Out in the kitchen, I found Alan and Marge in a huddle, conferring over what needed to be done and when. “Hey, Alan,” I said, picking up Lucy’s leash, “Lucy and I are going to head out, too, so I can give you a ride there. I’ll take Lucy out for one last walk and meet you on P-4.”
It was clear outside, clear and sunny, but with the cloud cover gone it was also bitterly cold. The truth is, it was probably only in the mid-thirties. People from Chicago or Maine would be all over me about calling the mid-thirties “bitterly cold,” but in case you haven’t noticed, people who live in Seattle are well known for being weather wimps. That goes just as much for high temperatures as it does for low ones. We don’t approve of weather extremes at either end of the spectrum.
I was grateful Lucy was quick about getting down to business. I had just loaded her into the backseat when Alan emerged from the elevator lobby. Because Third Avenue is closed to automobile traffic at certain times of the day, I dropped him at Second and James and pointed out how to get back up the hill to his Child Services appointment and then on up to Seattle PD at Fifth and Cherry to file Naomi’s missing-persons report.
It seemed to me that nine fifteen was a bit early to show up at Highline Development, so I headed on down Fourth Avenue South and pulled in to the Denny’s parking lot. Mel may have had an appointment with His Honor the mayor. I had a scheduled morning meeting with a Grand Slam.
Overnight, during the times when Athena had awakened me, I’d had a chance to mull over some of the things Hilda Tanner had told me. One thing that struck me as odd was her mention of the upcoming estate sale. The orange netting designating Agnes’s property as a construction site was already in place, but did the proposed estate sale mean that Agnes’s goods were still inside her little frame house? Why would that be? In my experience sellers usually vacate and empty out their premises before a sale closes, especially if the structure involved is destined for the wrecking ball.
Guzzling coffee and waiting for my order, I opened my iPad and located Zillow. If you bring up the right page, you can see what’s for sale as well as the sale prices on nearby properties that have recently changed hands. It took some scrolling around before I was able to zero in on Agnes Mayfield’s West Seattle neighborhood. When I did so, I was in for a surprise.
All four of the Mayfield houses, including the one Agnes had recently occupied, had sold in the low $200,000s, well below the going rate, even for teardowns. Similar lots in the neighborhood had sold for or were listed for sale at amounts close to double that. JDLR is copspeak for “just doesn’t look right,” as in something seemed amiss here. Not only that, the closing date on those transactions had been in early October, months after Agnes, reportedly suffering from dementia issues, had been carted off to a care facility of some kind. So was this a variation on a theme of elder abuse? It wouldn’t be the first time some underhanded relative or real-estate developer had taken advantage of an innocent pensioner, cheating him or her out of hearth and home.
My original plan had been to walk into Highline Development and ask for information straight up, hoping to come away with Lenora’s last name. Now it seemed as though a bit of subterfuge might be necessary. I had yet to meet Lenora No Last Name, but if she was the kind of schemer I was beginning to suspect she was, I would need to find some other means of identifying her rather than showing my hand to the developer.
When I finished my part of the breakfast, I asked for a “doggie bag.” Back at the car, Lucy was happy to polish off any and all uneaten pancakes. After that we headed back to West Seattle. With the GPS calling out the directions, I drove straight to the address I’d lifted from Highline’s Web site. I found the office in a strip mall on 35th, tucked in between a nail salon and a chiropractor’s office. Two doors away was a Subway sandwich shop. I drove into the parking lot and pulled up next to