Neighborhood Steele - Part Three
“Beautiful hardwood floors, French doors out to the patio…”
Now in the third house on their list, Steele and Laura found themselves beginning to tune out the realtor’s commentary. They’d also finally given up shooting furtive glances at each other, trying to make out their feelings about every detail.
He doesn’t like the railing on the staircase, Laura thought nervously. With everything else we’re spending money on right now, we may not be able to replace it anytime soon. And the kitchen was so much bigger in the last house. He really wants a nice kitchen.
Steele, on the other hand, noticed the small room at the back of the house. That would make a nice little study for Laura. She would love something like that. But she really liked the master bedroom in the first house, and if it’s a choice between a nice study for her and a nice bedroom for both of us…
“Shall we go out back?” the realtor asked, seeing their undecided expressions.
They followed him out into a nice garden. A fence ran around the outer edge, bordering two other properties, and there was a lovely big tree in the far corner.
“Well,” the realtor said, when he had finished pointing these things out, “I have another client to meet.”
Steele shook his hand. “Thank you. We’ll let you know what we decide.”
When they were alone, he turned to Laura. “Any thoughts?”
She let out a long breath. “Choosing a house is harder than I thought.”
“You don’t have a favorite?”
She was about to answer when they were interrupted by a loud “Psst!” from behind them. They turned to see a small man, mostly bald and wearing round glasses, straining to peek over the fence from the yard on the left. He gestured violently for them to come over.
“Can we help you?” Laura asked politely.
The man ignored her. He turned to Steele and said quickly, “You’re Remington Steele, aren’t you? The Detective. I’ve seen you in the newspaper. Front page at least once a month. Must be nice. I was in the newspaper once. Fifth grade volleyball team. We were the county champions. I had measles the day of the tournament, but they let me pose with them for the paper. I was sitting -“
Steele held up his hand and the man fell silent. “What can we do for you Mr. -“
“Devinsky. Leonard Devinsky. Like Leonardo Da Vinci, only… yeah, anyway. I’m an inventor too, you know. I specialize in kitchen gadgets. My new take on can openers got me into this neighborhood.” He reached an awkward hand over the fence.
Steele took it. “My pleasure, Mr. Devinsky. This is my wife, Laura.” Steele couldn’t help smiling as he said this. He reveled in every opportunity to introduce Laura as his wife.
Devinsky nodded at her before going on, “Are you moving in around here?”
“We’re thinking about it,” Laura answered, with a thoughtful look at the house beside them.
“Oh.” Devinsky seemed disappointed. “I thought you might be here about - I mean - you can tell me if you are. I understand. I won’t say anything.”
“What do you mean?” Steele asked.
“The Murphys? The Chans?.” He said this as if it should have been obvious. "They were the last two families to live in this house."
Laura frowned. “Why would we want to know anything about them?”
“Well, they both left in a hurry, and neither of them stayed very long. Didn’t say why they were leaving either.”
Steele glanced back at the house looking worried. “You’ve never noticed anything wrong with it?”
“Not from the outside.”
“What about the other neighbors?” Laura asked. “Do they know anything?”
Devinsky hesitated. “Not that they’ll admit to.”
Steele took a deep breath and looked around him. “You liked the neighborhood, eh Laura?”
Now in the third house on their list, Steele and Laura found themselves beginning to tune out the realtor’s commentary. They’d also finally given up shooting furtive glances at each other, trying to make out their feelings about every detail.
He doesn’t like the railing on the staircase, Laura thought nervously. With everything else we’re spending money on right now, we may not be able to replace it anytime soon. And the kitchen was so much bigger in the last house. He really wants a nice kitchen.
Steele, on the other hand, noticed the small room at the back of the house. That would make a nice little study for Laura. She would love something like that. But she really liked the master bedroom in the first house, and if it’s a choice between a nice study for her and a nice bedroom for both of us…
“Shall we go out back?” the realtor asked, seeing their undecided expressions.
They followed him out into a nice garden. A fence ran around the outer edge, bordering two other properties, and there was a lovely big tree in the far corner.
“Well,” the realtor said, when he had finished pointing these things out, “I have another client to meet.”
Steele shook his hand. “Thank you. We’ll let you know what we decide.”
When they were alone, he turned to Laura. “Any thoughts?”
She let out a long breath. “Choosing a house is harder than I thought.”
“You don’t have a favorite?”
She was about to answer when they were interrupted by a loud “Psst!” from behind them. They turned to see a small man, mostly bald and wearing round glasses, straining to peek over the fence from the yard on the left. He gestured violently for them to come over.
“Can we help you?” Laura asked politely.
The man ignored her. He turned to Steele and said quickly, “You’re Remington Steele, aren’t you? The Detective. I’ve seen you in the newspaper. Front page at least once a month. Must be nice. I was in the newspaper once. Fifth grade volleyball team. We were the county champions. I had measles the day of the tournament, but they let me pose with them for the paper. I was sitting -“
Steele held up his hand and the man fell silent. “What can we do for you Mr. -“
“Devinsky. Leonard Devinsky. Like Leonardo Da Vinci, only… yeah, anyway. I’m an inventor too, you know. I specialize in kitchen gadgets. My new take on can openers got me into this neighborhood.” He reached an awkward hand over the fence.
Steele took it. “My pleasure, Mr. Devinsky. This is my wife, Laura.” Steele couldn’t help smiling as he said this. He reveled in every opportunity to introduce Laura as his wife.
Devinsky nodded at her before going on, “Are you moving in around here?”
“We’re thinking about it,” Laura answered, with a thoughtful look at the house beside them.
“Oh.” Devinsky seemed disappointed. “I thought you might be here about - I mean - you can tell me if you are. I understand. I won’t say anything.”
“What do you mean?” Steele asked.
“The Murphys? The Chans?.” He said this as if it should have been obvious. "They were the last two families to live in this house."
Laura frowned. “Why would we want to know anything about them?”
“Well, they both left in a hurry, and neither of them stayed very long. Didn’t say why they were leaving either.”
Steele glanced back at the house looking worried. “You’ve never noticed anything wrong with it?”
“Not from the outside.”
“What about the other neighbors?” Laura asked. “Do they know anything?”
Devinsky hesitated. “Not that they’ll admit to.”
Steele took a deep breath and looked around him. “You liked the neighborhood, eh Laura?”