Робин Карр – The Wanderer (страница 10)

“Sounds terrible.”

“No termites,” he said with a lame smile.

“What do you recommend?”

“We can’t turn over a good property to you unless we pretty much gut it. It needs a new septic system, plumbing repairs, and we can’t get at that mold without tearing out some walls and flooring. The good news is, you have some water-damaged, rotting wood that would have to go anyway, so you kill two birds with one stone. You let us tear out the old wood to get to the mold and we’ll only charge you once.”

“I don’t plan to keep it. So now what do you recommend?” he asked.

“You could raze it,” he said. “Sell the lot it’s on. But if you’re thinking about selling the structure, you’d have to do some serious work. Massive remodel. And I can’t guarantee you’d get your money’s worth. See how it sits right in the middle of this land? The people who own the rest of this beach and land, they’d be the ones to ask. Maybe they’d buy your lot just to get you out of here so they can put up a hotel and strip mall. You should ask.” He looked around, stretching his neck. “Not exactly a prime location for that, though. This place is kind of out-of-the-way.”

Cooper was silent a moment. “You got an estimate to gut it?”

The man ripped off the top sheet and passed it to him—$5,890.00. “That doesn’t include plumbing, septic system or removal of damaged, rotting wood. That would be another several thousand. Then you’re left with a frame, pretty much.”

“Roughly six thousand? Just to tear it apart?”

“That’s a real nice estimate. And that bar? As bars go, it’s terrible. It’s a good fifty years old. And it’s not an antique. It’s just old and cheap. And rotting.”

“Is anything on this place all right?” Cooper asked.

The guy gave a nod. “Good deck. It’s newer than the structure. And as far as we can tell, the foundation is solid—but I wouldn’t guarantee it. You have a really bad roof. If you get it in your head to renovate, I’d recommend a new roof. We don’t do renovation, but I’d bet you’re looking at over a hundred grand there. But hey, do you know what people would pay for your view?”

Cooper ran a hand around the back of his neck which, despite the cold, was sweating. “If I decide to just knock it down, can you do it?”

“Nope,” he said, shaking his head. “But I can recommend a good demolition team. I can also recommend plumbers, septic repair or replacement, interior work, roofers. These are the people we work with on a regular basis—contractors of every stripe. We specialize in fire-and-flood damage—after our work is done, the rebuilding starts.”

“Don’t you ever go in and just clean up the mess?” Cooper asked.

“Pretty often. But this one is bad.”

“Just because the electricity was off for a few weeks and the bait died?”

“It was in serious decline, filling up with mold, before that happened. You might want to check with your insurance company—they might help. But this place has been neglected for a long time. Looks like someone tried to get that septic system up and running for a while, when it should’ve been replaced.” He lifted bushy eyebrows. “You?”

“No, not me. I have to think about what I’m going to do.”

“Fair enough,” the man said, sticking out his hand.

“If I decide to do something with this, how much notice do you need?”

“It’s turning winter. The schedule isn’t too bad. But if you don’t act soon, we’re going to be weathered out.”

“I’ll try to think fast,” Cooper said. “Got any more of those face masks?”

The man reached into his pocket and pulled out several. “Just so you know—they’re not that effective against the smell in there.”

“I’m sure.”

“Just out of curiosity, why didn’t you fix the place up before it got so bad?”

“It wasn’t mine until recently. The man who owned it died.”

“Really? Well, hell, man! Cash it in! The land it’s on is probably worth something.”

He knew that, Cooper did. But something about the whole thing just gnawed at him. He wasn’t going to be able to make a decision until he understood why Ben Bailey lived with mold and rotting wood. The fact that he was pretty unmotivated didn’t explain it. Ben could’ve made one phone call and traded some land for enough money to build himself something nice. “So,” he said to the man with the cleanup crew, “how much to make that fish tank and any rotting food go away?”

“Twenty-five hundred. But that won’t solve your septic problems. We can deal with that, too, short of replacing it. But that won’t leave you a sound building and the plumbing won’t be serviceable.”

“I just want time to look around the inside. And think. And brother, I can’t think when it smells like that.”

“Twenty-five hundred makes it unpleasant rather than deadly.”

“Done. How fast?”

“Tomorrow. We’ll bring in a crew, a Dumpster and some fans to air the place out.”

“Let’s do it. I have to look around in there before I can figure out what to do next. Right now I’m leaning toward a bulldozer.”

“Can’t say I blame you, Mr. Cooper.”

Four

Rawley lived in a little inland town called Elmore. Mac gave Cooper directions to his place. Besides a gas station, post office, elementary school and Dairy Queen, Elmore wasn’t much of a town. The larger town of Bandon wasn’t far away and possibly served the small population’s needs.

The house was a small, old, brick structure with a porch. That classic pickup was parked on the side, identifying the place as belonging to Rawley. The yard was well kept and the grass still green, though the trees and shrubs were showing signs of fall with either color or brown. When Cooper knocked on the door and Rawley answered, the last thing he expected was the homey, clean, orderly house he saw inside.

“Hey. Got a minute?” Cooper asked.

Rawley gave his version of a nod, which was a smirk and a tilt of his head, stepping back so Cooper could enter. Inside was a living room and dining room that looked like a woman had left it behind—lace covers on the worn arms of chairs and sofa, pictures of farm scenes on the walls, a buffet with a couple of good glass bowls on top of a fabric runner, candlesticks on the table. All old, all maintained. In front of the fire sat an elderly man in a wheelchair. He was dressed in overalls and a long-sleeved shirt—clean—and on his feet were socks only. No point in shoes if you never walked.

“Very nice, Rawley,” Cooper said, taking it in. “That your dad?”

Rawley nodded.

Cooper had never been a patient man, but this was really stretching what patience he had very thin. “I wish you’d talk,” he said. “Unless you’re mute.”

“I’ll talk when I got something to say,” he said.

“Well, there,” Cooper said. “You doing okay since Ben’s death?”

“Not hardly,” Rawley said.

Well, there you go again, Cooper thought. Honest, if not informative. “Anything you need that I can get for you, now that he’s gone?”

“Can’t think what,” Rawley said.

At that statement, the old man turned his chair around to face Cooper. He didn’t exactly hold his head up, and Cooper could see that he was very likely a stroke victim. He turned the chair with his left arm, the right kinked in protectively at his side, and the right side of his face—mouth and eye—sagged.

“You looking for work?” Cooper asked.

“Hadn’t been. Why? You gonna open up Ben’s place?”

“No, but I’m cleaning it up and clearing it out. It’s got troubles—rot and mold and dead fish. Tomorrow a crew is coming out to clean out and remove the fish tanks, rotten food, trash...”

“Police locked it up and wouldn’t let me in,” Rawley said by way of explanation.

“I know. And the electric company turned off the power,” Cooper said. “The result is a stink and mess. But once they get the place so I can breathe in there, I have to go through his things. You know—pitch, give away, sell, whatever. There might be some things in there you want. If you help out, I can pay you what Ben paid you.”

Rawley grinned and showed off a stunning set of dentures. “He paid me a ton.”

“Gimme a break, Ben didn’t have shit. And he couldn’t tolerate a lie, either.”

“Eight dollars an hour,” Rawley said. “When?”

“In three days, I guess. Your dad okay alone if you work?”

The old man inhaled sharply and briefly lifted his head. It looked like he scowled, but with the uneven features, it was hard to tell. His good eye narrowed.

“He’s okay. If I work, the neighbor checks on him twice a day. I leave him fixed up for what he needs.”

“Okay, then. If you’re interested.”

Rawley gave a nod. No questions, no suggestions, no commentary.

“Rawley, I don’t know what I’m going to do with the place. Fair warning. This could be a week of work and that’s all. I might just tear the place down and sell the land.”

“You’ll figure it out,” Rawley said, apparently unconcerned.