Book One, Page Ten. Death Slows Things Down.
Smiling with expectation, Karen punched in the number for the owners of the Roquette's Pharmacy building. As she did, Jerry called Julie to tell her the news, and to take her counsel.
"Guess what?" he told her. "I think we're leasing the old drugstore right here, right now!"
"How much?" Julie asked.
"Forty-eight hundred a month. I think we can swing that, although it won't be easy."
"I'm glad to hear you say that, Jerry," Julie said. "At least, I think I am. I thought the rent would shock you out of your scheme, and I figured it would be at least that much. But if you're still in the game, then maybe we need to talk about whether we really want to do this."
"I want to do it," said Jerry. "If you want to talk, you've got to get over here now, because if we don't nail this place down right now we'll lose it. A bank wants to buy it and tear it down."
Julie, who dabbled enough in real estate to know how deals were pushed along by agents, found this suspicious. "Be careful, Jerry. Why not wait to sign it until I get there."
"Okay, I'll ask her."
"I'm on my way," Jerry heard Julie say. He turned to Karen and saw a troubled look on her face as she spoke to her party.
"I understand," she said. "I'm so sorry. I'll be in touch after things settle down. Thank you. Again, my condolences."
She snapped her phone shut. "It looks like we wont be able to execute the lease just yet," she said. "The Roquettes want to put everything having to do with the building on hold. Mr. Roquette's sister just died. She was handling a lot of his business. But that might work in our favor. We won't have to turn this into a fire sale."
She paused, closed her eyes, and made a facing-reality face. "Or, on the other hand, maybe we will. Have to turn this into a fire sale, I mean. Who knows?" She looked distressed to the point of disgust.
"Did they say the name of the person who died?" Jerry asked.
"They did, but I can't exactly remember," Karen said. "I was thinking about something else. Might have been Winchester?"
"Was it Lancaster?"
"Lancaster! Yes, that's it. Do you know her?"
"I think so," he said. "A woman who said she was Mr. Roquette's sister was in my veterinary office a few days ago with a dead cat. Did they say what happened to her?"
"That's definitely her, then," Karen said. "Mr. Roquette said she was digging in her garden when she had a heart attack, and that her cat was next to her, dead in a box."
"Hmm," said Jerry. "Do you think we should go to the funeral?"
"Well, I'm not going, if that's what you mean. If you knew her, that's up to you. I would be very careful about talking real estate at a funeral, though."
"Of course not," said Jerry. "I just thought it would be nice to see Mr. Roquette again, and let him see me. I wonder if he'll remember me from all those years ago."
"Okay," said Karen, suddenly seeming impatient. "Let's swap cards, and I'll let you know when I find out anything," said Karen. "Damn! And I thought we'd get this done right now!"
"I'm not giving up," Jerry said, although he wasn't sure what his persistence would accomplish. This scenario was not in his dream about the restaurant. Nor was the sight of Karen Gottlieb tearing away in her BMW, kicking up loose gravel from a patch or road repair in front of the building. One rock hit the biggest window. And bounced right off.
