Condemned, R.C. Bridgestock [most romantic novels TXT] 📗

appeared in the doorway at the back of the office. Small in stature with a slight stoop, he was dressed in a dog-eared suit, an ill-fitting shirt and paisley tie. Charley had a thing about shirts and ties. She liked to see a crisp collar fit properly, but the man’s shirt looked old and frayed. It was a few sizes too big, making his long, thin neck look scraggy. He addressed the detectives as he offered his hand. ‘Jonathan Raglan, proprietor of this establishment,’ he said. ‘How can I help you?’

‘How about you tell us all you know about Crownest and the Dixons?’ said Charley, noting that his hand was trembling in hers as she reached out to grasp it.

Chapter 15

The estate agent’s file on Crownest sat on the corner of a dusty mahogany desk which was covered with well-worn red leather and positioned in the centre of Mr Raglan’s small office, with the visitors’ seating arrangements to one side. Raglan shuffled around his desk, sat down heavily in his chair, put his round spectacles on his vein-threaded bulbous nose, and peered sternly across the desk at the detectives. ‘Sit,’ he said curtly, as he pointed to two ladder-backed chairs.

The faded, reused file with curled edges that he slid across the desk appeared to have been subjected to strong, direct sunlight at one time. One thing that was certain was that it was a large file and Raglan was frugal. After briefly flicking through the dossier, Raglan settled to study the handwritten note at the top. Charley’s eyes wandered to the dust motes that could be seen dancing in the grey light pouring through the yellowed window. The old transistor radio in the corner of the room played quiet, classical music. Raglan repeatedly took deep breaths, and sighed heavily.

As if someone had flicked a switch, the winter sun was suddenly gone, and Charley’s attention turned to the dark wooden shelves that lined the office walls, while the room took on a different mood. The bookshelves held old leather-bound volumes. She turned towards Mr Raglan and wondered if the estate agent had read them all. He probably hadn’t had the time, despite his years, considering how long it was taking him to read the summary on the file.

As Charley proceeded to further explain the reason for their visit, leaving out the extraneous material not related to the estate agent’s need-to-know status. The lifting of Raglan’s head revealed a slight tic on the right side of his neck, which not only disturbed Charley, but which she also found distracting. A moment later, as if he wasn’t able to keep it in a normal position, his head dropped, as if a puppeteer had loosened a string.

Charley raised her shoulders at Mike’s questioning gaze.

‘I’ve met Mr Thomas from JT Developments,’ she said, after a moment or two.

Raglan’s eyes turned upwards to meet hers, over the top of his glasses.

‘And?’ he said, in a drawl.

‘He was upset about the delay of the demolition. Due to our ongoing investigations.’

Raglan raised his bushy eyebrows. ‘Is it any wonder that he’s frustrated, really?’ he said gruffly. ‘The delay of a building project would test the most agreeable businessman, time’s money y’know.’ The estate agent grunted and continued to stare in Charley’s direction. ‘What else do you want to know?’ Confusion flickered in his eyes. ‘That Raglans will be selling the new homes?’

The insight into the background of the angry man that owned JT Developments was interesting to Charley.

‘What of the people who took up residence at Crownest before JT Developments took ownership?’ Charley said calmly, making herself more comfortable in the uncomfortable chair by crossing her legs at the knees, letting Raglan know she was in no rush to leave.

Mr Raglan looked uncomfortable. ‘A man and his wife were renting it, but it didn’t work out.’

‘We’re talking about a Brad and Brittany Dixon,’ said Charley, aware of his discomfort.

Raglan looked surprised. ‘Yes,’ he said curtly. ‘I see that those are the names that are recorded in this file.’ There was a pause. The detectives took a breath. This was the extra beat which the seasoned interviewer uses, to see if it brings further revelations from the interviewee. ‘It was rather awkward, if not somewhat embarrassing,’ Raglan continued quietly. ‘The Dixons, to all intents and purposes, were supposed to be buying the property before JT Developments took over the ownership. However, references were not forthcoming in a reasonable time, so at the request of the owner to “hurry the sale along”, and indeed try to secure the sale, they agreed to rent the property to the would-be buyers, Brad and Brittany Dixon. The couple signed a rental agreement, paid a bond, and at the same time submitted a further cheque for the rental of the property, whilst the sale was ongoing.’

‘Could you give us the name of the owners?’

Mr Raglan appeared flustered. He sifted through the papers to find the owners details in the file, to no avail. ‘I can’t bring their name to mind… It’ll come to me,’ he said, eventually.

‘Was the house habitable?’ said Mike.

Mr Raglan gave a slow closing of the eyes, and a slight nod of the head. ‘They told us that they weren’t bothered about the state of the place. They intended to live in a couple of the rooms, and when the purchase of the house had been completed, they intended to start renovating it back to its former glory. We had no reason to disbelieve them.’ He took a deep breath and a sigh escaped his lips. ‘After a few weeks however, I was surprised to learn that their cheques had been returned to us from the bank.’

‘The cheques bounced?’ said Mike.

Raglan raised a shoulder, silent and slightly sullen. ‘Yes. That’s what happened.’

The two detectives looked at each other, both with the same thought, how could the seasoned estate agent really be so naive?

Mike was the first to ask the question on both their lips, ‘What did you do?’

‘Miss Finch tried