T Is for Trespass

big construction loan, putting the house up as collateral.”
    “News to me.”
    “I gather she wants to remodel and upgrade, add a wheelchair ramp, redo electrical and plumbing, and generally bring the house up to snuff.”
    “The place could use a face-lift. Even with the cleanup Solana’s done, it’s still a mess. What’s the size of the loan?”
    “A quarter of a million bucks.”
    “Wow. Who told you?”
    “Jay Larkin, a friend of mine in the loan department. We used to date years ago and he was a big help when I was getting into real estate. He knew I’d been interested in listing the property and when this came up, he assumed I’d made a deal. It struck me as curious because I told Solana the two parcels together were worth far more than the house. This block is already zoned multiple-family. Any buyer with savvy would purchase both lots and tear the old house down.”
    “But it makes sense to remodel with Gus so adamant about hanging on.”
    “That’s just what I’m getting at. She put the house on the market. Well, maybe not Solana, but the conservator.”
    “For sale? How so? I haven’t seen a sign out front.”
    “This is a pocket listing. I’m guessing she’ll pay off the construction loan with the proceeds from the sale. I wouldn’t have known about it, but an agent in our Santa Teresa office is handling the deal. She remembered I’d done comps when my client came through town so she was calling to ask if I wanted a referral fee. I was sorely tempted, but with Henry so burned at me, I didn’t dare.”
    “What’s the asking price?”
    “A million two, which is a joke. Even fixed up, it’ll never sell for that. I thought it was odd after Solana swore up and down Gus would rather die than part with the place. What I can’t understand is why the house was listed with my company. Didn’t anybody realize I’d get wind of it?”
    “The conservator probably had no idea you were ever involved,” I said. “Solana doesn’t seem that sophisticated about real estate. If this is her doing, maybe she wasn’t aware how closely you work with one another.”
    “Or maybe she’s thumbing her nose at us.”
    “This is being done through Gus’s bank?” I asked.
    “Sure. One big happy family, but the whole thing stinks. I thought you should know.”
    I said, “I wonder if there’s any way to gum up the works?”
    Charlotte pushed a piece of paper across the table. “This is Jay’s number at the bank. You can tell him we talked.”

30
    I slept poorly that night, my brain abuzz. Lettie Bowers’s revelations had been a gift, but instead of feeling good, I was kicking myself for not interviewing her earlier. She and Julian both. If I’d talked to neighbors before my first meeting with the Fredricksons, I would have known what I was dealing with. I felt like I was slipping, distracted by the miscalculations I’d made in my dealings with Solana Rojas. Not to beat myself to death here, but Gus was in big trouble and I was the one who’d put him there. What more could I do? I’d called the county so there was no point in going over that ground again. Nancy Sullivan had doubtless drawn and quartered me in her report. Beyond that, I hadn’t witnessed verbal, emotional, or physical abuse that warranted calling the police. Which left me where?
    I couldn’t persuade my mind to shut up. There was nothing I could do about any of it in the middle of the night, but I couldn’t let it go. Finally, I sank into some deep canyon of sleep. It was like slipping into a trough in the ocean’s floor, dark and silent, the weight of the water pinning me in place. I wasn’t even aware I’d fallen asleep until I heard the noise. My leaden senses registered the sound and invented a few quick stories to account for it. None of them made sense. My eyes popped open. What was that?
    I checked the clock, as though noting the time would make a difference. 2:15. If I hear the cork pop from a champagne bottle, I automatically check the time in case it turns out to be a gunshot and I’ll be asked later to file a police report. Someone was riding a skateboard in front of the house; metal wheels on concrete, repeated clicks as the skateboard rolled across cracks in the sidewalk. Back and forth, the sound surging and receding. I listened, trying to determine how many skateboarders there were—only one as far as I could tell. I could hear the kid try kick flips, the board slamming down when he made it,