Free Catharine Bramkamp - Real Estate Diva 05 - A 380 Degree View by Catharine Bramkamp

heavy landing would reverberate throughout the walls of the old house.
    The old place really needed insulation. Her grandpa could have used some leftover insulation from a job he did for Lucky back in the ‘80s but he hadn’t, and never explained why.  They had been good grandparents in their own way. They did let her go to high school and if she said nothing, she could take part in as many after school activities as she liked, as long as it didn’t inconvenience them.
    They used to be busy people: Bible study, church, more Bible study, Brotherhood meetings, and at night, the news.  All the terrors of the world brought to you directly to your living room, in livid color.
    Maybe she could get a computer when they passed, maybe there would be some money. Her mother would need some of course. But Sarah would not count her chickens before they hatched, she knew better than that.
    Her thoughts wandered to that cute guy at the theater, the one who had sat in front.
     
    I dropped off Scott at the front of the library, his library now.  I was on the verge of escape, but a woman hailed me.  I was conditioned to be polite and waited for her to catch up to the car.  The rain had abated but the air was still cold.  I hoped the chilly air would encourage a quick conversation.
    “I heard you were in town,” she panted.  “Nice car, four wheel drive?”
    “Of course.” I squinted, working hard to remember her. Had we met during one of my many summers here? If she were one of the many people I met at the river, odds were good I would never be able to recognize her with her clothes on.
    “I’m sorry.” I gave up. It was too cold to play guessing games.  “Do I know you?”
    “No you don’t. I’m Mattie Timmons, Danny’s ex-wife.  You dated him this summer.”  Mattie looked like she used to belong to the Future Farmers of America and had never changed her look after sophomore year. Her hair was scorched by years of perms and stood out from her head in kinked blond strands. Her thick stomach strained against her tight low riding Lee jeans.  I couldn’t see, but I guessed she wore cowboy boots.
    “I didn’t date him,” I corrected.  “We connected again and had few drinks.”
    “You know what happened to Danny?  Lucky thinks I don’t know, but I do.” 
    I nodded; Danny had shared his suspicions about how Lucky cut corners on his buildings, which included pumping cheap and highly flammable insulation into the walls of every house he constructed. But Danny decided to prove his theory by immolating himself in a conflagration of his own creation. He started the fire to prove how flammable the homes were, and of course all the evidence burned along with the homes. Apparently Danny hadn’t really thought that part through. Don’t drink and start fires.
    I did not share my insight with Danny’s divorced widow.
    Mattie dropped her voice, although there wasn’t a soul on the street, not in this weather. “Lucky was pumping bad insulation into those homes, but Danny couldn’t really prove it, he had no backup information or expert witness, that kind of thing.”
    “That makes it kind of awkward, don’t you think?”  Taking on Lucky Masters was not for the faint of heart, or for the unprepared.  Lucky was very powerful, well hated, and retained likely dozens of attorneys on retainer. To join the I Hate Lucky Masters Club, Mattie Timmons would have to take a number.
    “I can prove it,” Mattie insisted. “I have Danny’s old notes back when he worked on those first houses. He used to tell me how the guys on the crew used to squirt some insulation onto a bunch of wood and light a fire, it worked better than gas.”
    Lovely. 
    “And I told Lucky. He owes me, he owes the kids.”  She folded her arms across her puffy ski parka and glared at me as if I was defending Lucky’s actions.  
    I knew I should have been more impressed, by both her revelations and her take-charge attitude, but I get tired of