Chapter 5 - The Broker Who Disappeared
Richard reported Elise's message to the appropriate authorities and advised me not to investigate alone.
But obeying a lawyer did not stop me from worrying about the frightened woman on the recording.
She had called to warn me.
By noon her office line went straight to voicemail.
Her brokerage website had vanished.
"Could Daniel have hurt her?" I asked.
"We don't know," Richard replied.
"Uncertainty is not evidence."
He had a way of refusing easy villains while still taking danger seriously.
A detective assigned to the document complaint contacted Elise's family.
Her sister said she had left town unexpectedly after receiving threats about her professional license.
She was alive, but she had asked for privacy.
I breathed again.
Meanwhile, Vanessa filled the neighborhood with a different story.
A woman from church called to ask whether I was seriously trying to evict my grieving son.
"That's what Vanessa says," she added.
"She says you've become confused since Thomas passed."
I looked at the hospital volunteer badge still hanging from my handbag.
For thirty-eight years I had calmed frightened patients and made careful decisions in emergencies.
One woman with a convincing smile was trying to erase all of that.
"I'm not confused," I told her.
"I'm protecting property my husband put in trust."
My friend hesitated.
"Maybe you should tell everyone that."
"Not until the facts are ready."
I put down the phone, furious with myself for caring what strangers thought.
That afternoon Judith forwarded images from the public real-estate listings.
Vanessa had advertised the house as an available executive rental.
The listing described an updated four-bedroom colonial and mentioned immediate occupancy.
Our bedroom was shown with new bedding.
My mother's quilt was nowhere in sight.
A caption called Thomas's workshop a bonus storage room.
Richard sent a formal demand to remove the listing while the ownership issue was unresolved.
That evening a neighbor, Mrs. Patel, called me.
She had lived across the street almost as long as we had.
"Margaret," she whispered, "I saw a man go through your back door with a crowbar."
I sat upright.
"Was Daniel there?"
"His truck was in the driveway."
She hesitated.
"There is something else."
"Tell me."
"They carried out a metal cabinet from Thomas's workshop."
I pictured the tall gray cabinet where my husband kept appliance manuals and spare parts.
But I also remembered the way he always kept its bottom drawer locked.
"When?" I asked.
"Ten minutes ago."
Then Mrs. Patel said something that chilled me.
"Margaret, the men weren't movers."
"How do you know?"
"Because one of them was wearing a police evidence jacket."
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I looked at Richard's number on my screen and pressed call.
