As Olivia stared at the familiar bungalow, Nick excused himself and headed toward the restroom. Within seconds, Dixie was leaning over Olivia’s shoulder, studying the black-and-white photo.
“I’d have thought he’d go for somethin’ fancier.” Dixie frowned. “What’s the point of bein’ loaded if you don’t toss your money around? It’s not like you can take it with you.”
Olivia jabbed at the paper with her index finger. “Never fear, Dixie. Nick Plumley won’t be living here. He’ll have to choose something more suitable.”
Dixie shook her head. “I don’t think so. I heard him tell the real estate broker that he
had
to have this house, so I reckon it’s as good as sold.”
Handing Dixie some cash, Olivia stood up and signaled to Haviland to follow suit. “You tell Nick Plumley that this house is unavailable. Tell him it has ghosts or asbestos or that it’s been condemned. Tell him it’s built on sacred Indian burial ground. I don’t care what you say, but tell him it’s off the market.”
Dixie put her hands on her hips. “What on earth has gotten into you, ’Livia? Whether you like it or not, Oyster Bay’s newest celebrity is gonna leave that gorgeous place he’s renting and set out a welcome mat at this little house by Memorial Day. You just mark my words.”
Olivia snatched the paper from the table and opened the front door. As soon as Haviland had trotted outside, Olivia turned to Dixie and calmly declared, “The only way he gets this house is over my dead body.”
Without waiting for a response, she left, shutting the door so firmly that the bells were still ringing when Nick Plumley returned from the restroom to find that the woman, the poodle, and his house listing were gone.
Berkley Prime Crime titles by Ellery Adams
A KILLER PLOT A DEADLY CLICHÉ