Gina Cresse - Devonie Lace 05 - A Deadly Change of Luck Read Free Page B

Is it this crazy wig again?” she said, using both hands to smash it down on her head, wiggling it back and forth until it seemed to be centered more or less on her skull.  In that process, I noticed she was missing six of her false fingernails.  The four remaining were painted bright pink except where they were chipped at the tips.  I smiled, not sure what to say.
    “How’s that?” she asked, waiting for my approval.
    “Better,” I answered.  “But, maybe just a little more to the left.”
    She adjusted it one more time before rifling through the mass of papers on her desk.  Then she took a pencil and slipped it under the wig, scratching her scalp.  “I hate this darn thing.  Itches like crazy,” she complained, rubbing the pencil up and down, pushing the wig out of place, again.  “But I can’t grow a decent head of hair since I turned sixty.  Without it, I look like a radiation fallout victim.”
    I frowned.  She seemed to be fighting the aging process with the determination of a Hollywood star desperate to remain young.
    “But you couldn’t give a hoot about that.  You’re here to see the bank repo,” she continued.  She put her pencil down and rearranged the stack of papers on her desk.
    Her phone rang and she stopped to answer it .  “Fiona Oliviera Realty.  Fiona speaking.
    “You’re kidding.
    “No.  The people withdrew their offer last week.  They got tired of waiting.
    “Great.  Fax it over.  Thanks, Chuck”
    Fiona hung up the phone, leaned over on her desk and grinned as though she was about to reveal the secret whereabouts of Elvis Presley.  “Toots, this is your lucky day.” 
    “Really?”
    “Yes.  That was Chuck… oh, what’s his last name?”  Fiona snapped her fingers repeatedly as if the action would cause the man’s last name to magically pop into her head.  “Doesn’t matter.   He’s the executor to an estate I’ve had listed for, let me see, must be almost six months now.  Thought I had it sold, but the people got tired of waiting and found something else.  It’s a great deal.  Better than the repo.”
    Fiona continued rummaging through the stack of papers on her desk, pulling one out to the top.  “Here it is,” she said, placing a black-and-white photocopy of an old house in front of me.  “It’s got potential, but it needs some TLC.  That’s tender loving care in real estate talk.”
    I nodded with understanding as I inspected the picture.  The house was cute.  It had a lot of curb appeal from what I could see from the photo.
    “What it really means is the place is a wreck and after you’ve finished fixing everything that’s wrong with it, you’ll swear on a stack of home repair books that you’ll never do it again.”
    I chuckled at her directness.  “Is it that bad?” I asked.
    “Let’s just say it’s more than new paint and carpet.  If you’re handy at all, you can flip it and make a nice little profit.”
    I squinted at the photocopy in my hands.  “Can you show it to me?  I’d like to see what’s involved.”
    Fiona smiled, revealing a thousand wrinkles on her over-tanned face.  “Good.  I had a feeling you weren’t one of those gals afraid to break a nail or two.  Let me get the key.”
     
    I rode with Fiona in her huge boat of a car.  The springs on the old Lincoln felt like they hadn’t been replaced since it was new, at least thirty years ago.   She took the corners like a policeman in hot pursuit of a bank robber.  I gripped the door handle and tried to remember that the car was built like a tank and could probably survive anything short of being broad sided by a semi-truck.  “Come on, baby,” she coaxed as she pressed her foot into the accelerator to climb a steep hill.  We nearly ripped the door off of a car as some poor unsuspecting man pushed it open into Fiona’s lane.  I cringed as she swerved to miss it at the last second, honking her horn as she blew by him. 
    “Another graduate