see his nose wrinkled from the retro color choices or the odor of stale cigarette smoke.
He caught my gaze. A hint of a smile crossed his lips. “Just a beanbag and lava lamp away from 1975.”
“Maybe there’s hardwood under this.” I stomped on the carpet, the underlying padding thin, as outdated as the style.
“Good try, Violet.”
He stepped through the archway into the kitchen, pausing on the green linoleum covered with yellow curly designs. I trailed after him. The cabinets painted peach, the stove autumn gold, the fridge avocado. The built-in microwave appeared to be one of the pioneers of its kind.
Now I understood why the pictures on the MLS data sheet had been in black and white. As I tried to think of a way to sell this place on something other than its looks, we strolled into the master bedroom. I blinked twice, feeling like I’d stepped onto the set of the Brady Bunch’s bedroom. Light blue, from the ceiling to carpet, filled every corner. The master bath boasted a bright pink toilet with a matching sink and bath.
“Whoever picked out these colors must have been color-blind,” Doc said.
“At least the drywall is in good shape.”
“Is that the best you can come up with?” Doc stared down at me, his grin wide, inviting my lips to play copy cat. When he smiled at me like that, I could almost forget about his whole human bloodhound routine. Almost.
“Well, the backyard is mowed,” I answered. After wading through Wolfgang’s yard, I thought this was at least a little improvement.
His gaze moved to the box window. “Interesting fountain. Does the water actually spout from the gnome’s pen—”
“Let’s check out the other bedrooms.” I grabbed his arm and pulled him back into the hall.
The stench of stale cigarette smoke thickened as we approached the two bedrooms at the end of the dark hallway.
“If you rip the carpet out, I bet that smell would disappear.”
“What smell?” Doc asked.
I stopped. He’d been sniffing through the place as usual. How could he miss the odor? “Are you a smoker?”
He pushed open the door to the bedroom on the left. “Not since high school.”
“Can’t you smell the cigarette smoke?”
He inhaled deeper and longer than usual. “Sure, but it’s not that bad.”
I stood on the threshold and gaped at him. Yesterday, the light scent of gardenias had sent him running and gagging from the house. Yet here we were, swimming in burnt tobacco from yesteryear, and he just shrugged it off?
Treading after Doc as he moved across the hall, my shoulders tightened as he stepped into the last bedroom.
According to Mona, Lilly Devine had been strangled by her “John” in this north-facing bedroom. Vertical skinny stripes of red, white, and blue covered the ceiling and ran down the walls to the fire-engine red carpet. A wave of vertigo had me leaning against the open door for support. If the wallpaper had been the same back then, I had an idea what drove the murderer to do it.
“Whoa,” Doc backed out of the room, covering his eyes. “That hurts.”
I flicked off the light and followed him back to the shag-filled living room. “Sorry. This place looked pretty good in the black-and-white pictures.”
“It has potential.”
Sure, as a nightmare. “You want to check out the basement?”
“Lead the way.”
I did. A light switch at the top of the stairs flooded the room with florescent light. I’d reached the bottom step before realizing Doc wasn’t following me. I turned around and found him still standing at the top of the stairs. His face looked pale. Maybe it was the lighting. “Aren’t you coming down?”
He caught my gaze. A hint of a smile crossed his lips. “Just a beanbag and lava lamp away from 1975.”
“Maybe there’s hardwood under this.” I stomped on the carpet, the underlying padding thin, as outdated as the style.
“Good try, Violet.”
He stepped through the archway into the kitchen, pausing on the green linoleum covered with yellow curly designs. I trailed after him. The cabinets painted peach, the stove autumn gold, the fridge avocado. The built-in microwave appeared to be one of the pioneers of its kind.
Now I understood why the pictures on the MLS data sheet had been in black and white. As I tried to think of a way to sell this place on something other than its looks, we strolled into the master bedroom. I blinked twice, feeling like I’d stepped onto the set of the Brady Bunch’s bedroom. Light blue, from the ceiling to carpet, filled every corner. The master bath boasted a bright pink toilet with a matching sink and bath.
“Whoever picked out these colors must have been color-blind,” Doc said.
“At least the drywall is in good shape.”
“Is that the best you can come up with?” Doc stared down at me, his grin wide, inviting my lips to play copy cat. When he smiled at me like that, I could almost forget about his whole human bloodhound routine. Almost.
“Well, the backyard is mowed,” I answered. After wading through Wolfgang’s yard, I thought this was at least a little improvement.
His gaze moved to the box window. “Interesting fountain. Does the water actually spout from the gnome’s pen—”
“Let’s check out the other bedrooms.” I grabbed his arm and pulled him back into the hall.
The stench of stale cigarette smoke thickened as we approached the two bedrooms at the end of the dark hallway.
“If you rip the carpet out, I bet that smell would disappear.”
“What smell?” Doc asked.
I stopped. He’d been sniffing through the place as usual. How could he miss the odor? “Are you a smoker?”
He pushed open the door to the bedroom on the left. “Not since high school.”
“Can’t you smell the cigarette smoke?”
He inhaled deeper and longer than usual. “Sure, but it’s not that bad.”
I stood on the threshold and gaped at him. Yesterday, the light scent of gardenias had sent him running and gagging from the house. Yet here we were, swimming in burnt tobacco from yesteryear, and he just shrugged it off?
Treading after Doc as he moved across the hall, my shoulders tightened as he stepped into the last bedroom.
According to Mona, Lilly Devine had been strangled by her “John” in this north-facing bedroom. Vertical skinny stripes of red, white, and blue covered the ceiling and ran down the walls to the fire-engine red carpet. A wave of vertigo had me leaning against the open door for support. If the wallpaper had been the same back then, I had an idea what drove the murderer to do it.
“Whoa,” Doc backed out of the room, covering his eyes. “That hurts.”
I flicked off the light and followed him back to the shag-filled living room. “Sorry. This place looked pretty good in the black-and-white pictures.”
“It has potential.”
Sure, as a nightmare. “You want to check out the basement?”
“Lead the way.”
I did. A light switch at the top of the stairs flooded the room with florescent light. I’d reached the bottom step before realizing Doc wasn’t following me. I turned around and found him still standing at the top of the stairs. His face looked pale. Maybe it was the lighting. “Aren’t you coming down?”
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