Page 43 of Dragon Detective

Reylor finished with the security system and sat in the front parlor, where he continued researching our potential villains.

Shriek & Nail called and the woman said they’d be over tomorrow to do some more measurements and give me estimates. Ending the call, I slumped on the front porch. I was still stunned by what happened. It was clear someone was trying to sabotage my renovation, because everything they did slowed me down or took my progress backward.

Why did it matter that much to them? With only eight rooms to rent, I wasn’t going to give the area’s hotel businesses much competition. And Victor specifically told me he rarely had a vacancy. If anything, we could refer the overflow guests to the hotel chains.

Reylor joined me on the front porch later in the afternoon, and we went through what he’d discovered. He’d only scrolled into his phone to start sharing when Sylvia strode up the driveway and joined us, sinking into a wicker chair. She dimpled a smile both my and Reylor’s way.

“You’re just the person I was hoping to see,” Reylor said.

“Oh?” Sylvia smoothed her pink and white checkered grannie gown across her knees and demurely crossing her leather, button-up boot encased ankles. “What can I do for you?” Her voice fluttered along with her hands on the ties to her bonnet.

“Does Hannah know that you and Justin Blakemore were once married?” he asked.

My eyes widened as I gaped at her. “You were?”

“And that you both lived here for the ten years you were together?” he added.

“That’s old news.” Sylvia’s spine stiffened, and her eyes darted around wildly. “Everyone in town knows we were married and divorced a long time ago.”

“You divorced two years before he died, actually.” Reylor looked down at the notes he’d taken on his phone. “It wasn’t an amicable split. In the proceedings, you accused him of having an affair.”

“Which he did,” she said primly.

“Of trying to hurt you.”

“He had a rough touch.”

“And you asked for this building and all the possessions in the divorce,” he finished.

“Because most of them were mine,” she ground out, her face flushing with anger. “He was the one who cheated. I should’ve named his floozy in the divorce, but no, I was trying to be kind to a friend, so I kept my mouth shut.”

“Who was it?” I asked.

“It hardly matters. She died within a year of Justin, dramatically following him to the grave. But I made sure she wasn’t buried in the same cemetery. How dare her family try to do something like that?”

I wasn’t sure why that would matter. “You weren’t given the building in the divorce,” I pointed out.

“It had been in his family for generations, and he fought me on that.” She slumped back in her chair. “He kept it all, and I got money instead. Like money matters? He has some amazing antiques, and I adored them. He knew I wanted them. He should’ve left them to me when he died.”

If she felt that proprietary about them, maybe I should let her go through the attic. As long as I wasn’t excited about a piece, she could have it. Her friendship meant more to me than a few dusty old things that had been locked up inside the house for six years.

Once I organized the window repair, I’d set up a time where she could come over. That might make her feel better about all this.

“Frankly, I’m a bit insulted by what you’re implying with this questioning,” Sylvia burst to her feet and hurried down the front stairs.

“Wait,” I called out, standing, ready to go after her.

She flicked her hand our way and broke into a half-run once she hit the sidewalk. She was soon lost from view.

“Well,” Reylor said with a wince. “Sorry. I should’ve been more delicate in my questioning, but—”

“What’s her motive?” I retook my seat.

“She wants the building. If you were determined to sell, she could make a low-ball offer, and you might accept it.”

“Why would she want it? She has a cute place above her antique shop. I’ve been inside and it’s roomy, sunny, and she’s decorated it with her favorite old west theme stuff.” I should’ve asked her why she’d wanted the building while she was here. I’d give her a few days to cool off then go see her and make my offer about the things in the attic. No wonder she kept asking to take a peek. There must be precious things up there or pieces of furniture that had sentimental value to her. I had no need to fight her over something like that.

“Maybe she plans to demolish the building and turn it into condos herself,” he said.

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