Free DEATH COMES TO AN OPEN HOUSE by Yvonne Whitney

stopped in. Was supposed to meet Hua for lunch, but she was still out with buyers. Wrote a message on Hua’s desk where to meet her and left to run an errand. Hua came about half an hour later and left to meet Lily. Before I could get organized to leave—that would be just before one—Eleanor Harding came looking for Wayne. Told her he wasn’t working here yet. Let her use a phone in the staff room to try to reach him. Said her cell phone was dead.”
    “She said. ” Rita echoed.
    “Exactly,” Ed said with a meaningful emphasis. “Then Tim Docketter picked up a key to show one of our houses. The owners don’t trust lockboxes. Damn nuisance. Lot of agents won’t bother showing the house. He was alone while I got the key. Keep it in a locked drawer in my desk. Couldn’t close till he returned it. That was okay because Joshua Evanston, former client of Theresa’s, showed up. He never liked Theresa, but we got to be friends and he drops in once in a while. Interesting guy. Tim dropped off the key about three. Joshua would have been alone while I locked the key up or when I made a trip to the bathroom. Would have seen the opener on Theresa’s desk when he was working with her. Joshua and I talked until almost five. Maybe any one of the three of them could have grabbed that thing, but I doubt Tim even knew about it. My money’s on Eleanor Harding.”
    “Who is she, anyway? An agent?”
    Ed was looking at the phone on his desk. It was ringing again.
    “Please,” Jean said.
    It wasn’t a day Ed could refuse Jean anything. His eyes left the phone and he addressed Rita’s question.
    “Eleanor Harding.” Ed said this name slowly, emphatically. “Theresa brought her up before the Board on charges. Broker. Owned a real estate office in Kensington. Presented her agent’s offer on one of their listings and got a firm contract without mentioning another office had called to register an offer. That’s serious stuff. Theresa reported it. Went before Arbitration or Professional Standards, maybe both. Eleanor lost her license, so Theresa knocked her out of the real estate business.” He paused to emphasize his next words. “I’m betting she took the letter opener to throw suspicion on us.”
    That was more helpful than all the wine Jean had drunk for lunch. Rita was smiling, too, as she added an exclamation mark to this entry.
    “And the other two?”
    “Theresa talked Joshua Evanston into buying a house he couldn’t afford. Low initial interest rate. Rates went up, he couldn’t make the payments, sold the house for less than the loan and is in serious financial trouble. Common story these days. Lost his job as a professor at Mt. Vernon College when Georgetown took over the property. I can tell you he didn’t kill Theresa. Wrong type.”
    “Tim whatever?”
    Ed shook his head.
    “I don’t think they even knew each other.”
    The phone was ringing again. Ed looked disgusted.
    “This is going to drive me crazy. Calls are probably all for me about Theresa and I’ll have to return them some time. Harold,” he yelled through the doorway, “I’ll take my calls now.”
    Rita had closed her notebook, but she wasn’t ready to let go.
    “Who’s this Wayne Eleanor Harding thought was—”
    “I’m going to tell you all about Wayne tomorrow at sales meeting,” Ed said as he picked up the phone.
    The interview was over. They walked past Harold, still on the phone, on the way to the sales room. Jean’s briefcase was on her desk. Inside, all the materials from the open house. She opened the guest book, turned to the first page and found her own entry and the Powers’. No one else wanted to be remembered. No record of witnesses as to whether or not Harold had gone out. But Jean could smile back at Harold on the way out. Ed had been convincing.
    “It wasn’t one of us!” Jean said as Rita bleeped her car door open.
    “ Probably not one of us,” Rita corrected.
    “What do you mean, probably ?”
    “Well, it