Monique exited Martin’s store and pulled her car into the street all smiles and bright-eyed. Once out of site she reached under her seat and pulled out her phone. Reception here was iffy at best and she had some kind of signal booster – quite illegal and so what? – installed. She didn’t know if her calls bounced off a satellite and she didn’t care so long as her calls went through uninterrupted.
Her first call was to her agency’s attorney. She politely and flirtingly asked if any problems came up with the Kristoffersen property sale.
None. Clean as a whistle. Was she expecting –
She pressed END before the attorney finished.
Next call. Her private attorney who also came up blank.
Her bank. Ditto.
Okay, one place left.
Her Banco Central de Honduras connected after a few minutes wait and the news there was also good. Money in, not touched since.
What the hell was going on? She got her commission all right and proper. No complaints from the owners…
Who were the owners?
She knew the Kristoffersen place was in a trust. She knew she received a healthy stipend for going in once a month and making sure the place hadn’t fallen down – it was a miracle it hadn’t. She knew every time she contacted the trust with a maintenance issue it was fixed within a day and nobody ever saw the crew who did the work.
She knew. She’d sat and watched after the fifth time it happened.
And the only contact through a law firm’s phone number. She’d leave a message, whatever needed to get done got done. Always an answering machine, never a human, never a secretary, receptionist, principal, partner, …
What the hell was this?
She tracked the phone number once. A blind. The phone number went here but then transferred to there then to another there then…
But also never a complaint and monies got transferred with never a hitch.
And the money was always good. So good she never questioned anything.
Why rock the boat when it’s sailing smoothly along?
But this deal was a bit much. Were they cutting her out? Were they going to hire another agent?
Real Estate agencies for fifty miles around knew nobody invaded Monique’s territory.
Nobody.
What the fuck?
She’d call and leave a message. A polite message. Making sure they knew she was at their disposal for any area real estate needs and thanking them for allowing her to handle the sale.
A man’s voice answered the phone on the first ring. “Hello, Monique. You’ve done a fine job. We’re very pleased. Thank you. We’ll definitely keep you in mind for any future needs.”
The line went dead.
Monique never said a word.
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