Detective Work©
The next weekend, Dave and Dick arrived at Dr. Maloney’s ranch to meet with a realtor. They drove there in Dave’s beater Toyota, as they hadn’t used the Fiero since the tanker incident.
As they were waiting for the realtor to arrive, they discussed the situation.
"OK, let’s go over this one last time," Dave said. "We’re investors that are interested in the area, and maybe for marketing it as a retirement home for somebody."
"Right," Dick replied. "Because a lot of retiring east coast executives are interested in finally finding a quite life in retirement."
"Right," Dave replied. "And we need to look specifically at the barn foundation, if possible, as well as try to get an idea of what the realtor thinks is there, so our cover story is because a lot of these eastern executives have collections of cars, airplanes, etc."
"Here she comes," Dick replied, pointing down the drive to an approaching car.
"Now remember, Dick," Dave began with a smile, "Don’t fall for all the real estate doubletalk she’ll give you."
Dick smiled, remembering how everyone had teased him about the purchase of land for his house in Stillwater. The land had a pretty aggressive slope down to a stream, and everyone thought that while it was scenic, it would be difficult if not impossible to build on, especially considering the amount of space they knew Dick wanted in a home. Colleagues had teased him mercilessly about buying the proverbial oceanfront property in Arizona. Even the real estate agent had thought he had suckered Dick into it.
Little did they know, however, that this property was exactly what Dick had wanted. Dick had astonished them all, building a house inspired by Frank Lloyd Wright’s "falling water" that blended into the hillside while maximizing the natural sunlight that was allowed in. He topped it off by building an adjacent underground garage complete with a "batcave" style entrance. Tours of his home were a regular feature of the school of architecture’s advanced design classes. Banter with his friends about his "poor talents in resisting real estate agents" had become a running gag.
As the realtor pulled up, the two men exited the vehicle. Both were wearing shirts and ties, and had clipboards with checklists and figures scribbled on them. A digital camera dangled from Dave’s hand.
The realtor got out of the Cadillac, which could not have been more than two weeks off of the lot. She tousled her hair, pasted on a smile, pick up a clipboard of her own, and exited the vehicle. She then crossed over and introduced herself. "Hi! I’m Cassandra Espedera with the local Re/Max office," she said.
"David Christopher," Dave replied and shook her hand.
"Dick Lowery," Dick chimed in and did likewise.
"Pleased to meet both of you," she said. "The office didn’t give me much background. Can you tell me what you are looking for?"
Dave smiled, knowing that all of the information they had plainly explained to the secretary at the real estate office was probably right there in her clipboard. And that included the reason they were ostensibly looking at this ranch.
Dave began their cover story. "Over the years, we’ve made contacts with a number of people who are now in excellent financial position for early retirement, both out east and on the west coast. Rich retiring executives have traditionally looked to Florida or California as a place to retire, but a few have begun to realize the advantages of retiring in this area, not the least of which is the lower costs involved. We have a small business finding retirement homes for these people."
Dick picked up as if on cue, and continued the rehearsed speech. "When we are contacted by these folks, they tell us what they are looking for, and want us to hunt down a few properties for them to look at. Usually, we’ll survey a number of properties with the characteristics they ask for, and make up a short list for them. Then they’ll usually look at about half of the ones we pick out in detail, if they can spare the time. Every now and then, they just have us take photos, and pick it out based on reviewing them. Then when they buy one, they usually have us act as their agents so they don’t have to take time out of their busy schedules. Right now, we’re looking for property for a gentleman who has a collection of classic cars, and likes country living, so this seemed to be just about right."
The story wasn’t a lie. They had previewed and screened properties a few times before for their friends in high places, and did continue to offer that service to them. They did have a lot of contacts, and there was a gentleman who had a classic car collection and liked country living that might be interested in the ranch. It was Dick. What they didn’t say was that while Dick was interested, he already knew he wasn’t interested enough to move.
The tour of the home progressed uneventfully, with the usual questions about construction techniques, pest problems, neighborhood, taxes, and ages of parts of the house. There was also the usual real estate agent doubletalk about not having the disclosure sheet with her, it must be back at the office, those are just cosmetic stains under that pipe, etc. When they asked about a soft spot in the water tank, and she said it was because the water had been turned off, it was all Dave could do to resist blurting out "How stupid do you think we are, anyway? That’s a clear result of not maintaining the hot water heater against the hard water around here, and I’ll bet you anything that the anode rod has been completely gone for over two years!" He settled for a cold stare. As far as he was concerned, there wasn’t a bigger crook in the world than a realtor, except maybe for the CEO’s of credit card companies.
At last the tour came around to the barn, which was Dick and Dave’s real item of interest.
"The slab foundation is a good feature. It is a slab isn’t it?" Dave asked.
"Yes, it is." The realtor replied.
"Would you know how thick it is?" Dave asked.
The realtor shuffled through some papers, obviously not looking at them, then replied "I believe it’s nine inches thick."
"Five’ll get you ten that if she says 9 the specs say 6," Dick whispered to Dave when she had moved on.
Dave nodded. "According to her information, anyway. For all she knows, she’s cheating us fair and square."
The barn indeed appeared to be on a slab foundation. However, it was also on a slight slope, with a large cedar tree covering the lowest corner. Dave glanced at Dick, and they wordlessly agreed that Dick would keep her occupied while Dave got a closer look under the guise of taking pictures.
As Dick led her back past the barn door, Dave snapped a couple of photos and slipped behind the tree. The perimeter footing wall showed a good deal more than two feet of height. Dave exposed six more inches by brushing away the material under the tree. Retrieving a multi-tool from his pocket, he rapped away at the top of the slab and worked his way down. There was a distinct change from a solid sound to a hollow sound about three quarters of the way down. Just what they were looking for. This definitely warranted further investigation.
Dave slipped out from behind the tree and wound his way around the barn taking pictures. He then entered from the opposite side to join Dick and the realtor. His posture signaled to Dick that they had all the information they wanted for the moment.
"So, how much interest has there been in this place, anyway?" Dave asked. "It may take a week or two for the fellow we are working with to pick and choose after going over our reports, and If he should hurry a bit more, I’d like to be able to tell him so right away."
"Oh, there’s been a lot of interest," the realtor replied. "It could go at any time."
"How many times has it actually been shown?" Dick asked.
"Well, now, I’m not exactly sure about that, see other agents have access to this property through the MLS."
"Have there been any offers?" Dave asked.
"The listing didn’t show under contract when I checked it an hour ago, so if there is one, it has just been made," she replied.
"Well, thanks for your hospitality. It’s certainly a lovely place," Dick said. "We’ll file our report as soon as we can, and advise our client to make a decision quickly."
"Sounds good. Thanks for the interest," She replied. She handed each of them a card as they headed for their respective vehicles.
As they were driving back to Dave’s house, they compared notes.
"What was the foundation like?" Dick asked excitedly.
"It went down at least a good four feet," Dave replied. "That’s further than it needs to just for a slab and to support barn walls, and if it were poured at the correct thickness for a single level structure, they would have regarded that corner. I bet the revealed footing wall is why they planted that cedar there."
"The floor inside made vaguely hollow noises," Dick said. "You couldn’t tell unless you knew what you were listening for."
"So did the outside," Dave replied. "After you went down about three feet. I think we need to investigate more closely."
"And look for a secret entrance?" Dick asked.
"Exactly." Dave replied. "What, you don’t think we need to?"
"Oh, I think we need to, I just don’t know how we’re going to find it. We looked that barn over pretty closely," Dick replied.
"The Fiero has a unified field generator that can function as a sensor array," Dave began.
"Are you sure?" Dick asked. "It’s only been a little over a week since the tanker incident."
"That stopped being news last Saturday," Dave replied. "Besides, it’s our only way in, and the car can conceal itself using the cloaking field. We can fly there and back invisibly, and no one will know. We’ve set up the computer to only take commands from us, using a voiceprint ID. It’ll be perfectly safe."
"That’s what you said about eating at El Charro!" Dick replied, smiling at the shared joke. Still, I guess it is the only way to determine what’s really there."
"Tonight, then," Dave said, "we’ll get the rest of the story. In the meantime, where would you like to eat lunch? How about El Charro?"
They both chuckled as they drove back. A further investigation of the barn was definitely needed.
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