Hearts and Houses for Sale: Whose Crazy Now?

The view from the Palos Verdes Peninsula never looked greener than on a rainy, cold day in January. Hopi had his BMW at the door before Selene could open her umbrella. He hoped out, whisked open the door, and scooted her into the passenger seat before rain drops left a single mark on her vintage Prada pumps.  "Still want a drink?" he asked.

"Maybe a cup of tea would be best," she said. "The hand of God will be their next ploy. I don't know what to expect. Where do these crazy people from?"

"What can I do?" he asked. "I have to get back to the O.R."

" A doctor. I like that," Selene said. "I need to extract the asking price from a nut case and her bellicose father," she said. "While the fireman husband pays the tab. They probably have more in their life insurance policies than in their bank account."

   "You meet all kinds in your business, I suppose, he said."

"It's the tree house. Weird. It was really something once upon a time," she said. "I wonder why it wasn't kept up?"

"The family was murdered in the tree house," he said. "Didn't the heirs tell you the story?" he asked.

"No, Henry, or I would have had to disclose it to potential buyers, " she snapped. "I thought it had been on the market a long time because of the housing downturn. I wonder if the Brooms will still want it."

"I feel for the husband," he said. "Bat's in the bellfry."

"It only has a tiny attic," Selene said. "What's with the 'Hopi" stuff."

"In prison, it was my nickname," he said." It stuck, better than a tattoo. At least for my work. Imagine a doctor with a devil and pitchfork up and down his arm."

Selene's heart gripped. Her breath came in shallow doses. Now, she understood the expression, 'an elephant in the house'. She had to ask. "Why were you in prison?"

"They said I murdered the people who used to live in the house you're selling," Hopi said. "My lawyers got me off."

Silence. Selene noticed he blinked rapidly as he drove faster than she would have. The hard rain allowed for maybe a ten foot visibility on the winding Palos Verdes Trump golf course road. "So why were you found guilty?" she finally asked in a voice strained and high-pitched.

"Oh, I was guilty alright. I admitted it," he said, looking over at her instead of the road, smiling, and blinking rapidly. 

"I really need a drink," Selene said. "Time to go home. Please take me back to my car."

Hopi laughed. "You don't think I'm serious, do you? Come on, I got the name in boarding school. I was the class clown. Henry Olden Powell, III just didn't fit," he said. 

"Oh, no, of course not," she said, a little sqeak of a laugh sputtering out. "Boarding school."

"I have to get back to the hospital anyway. Only had time for a quick drink, remember?"

"Thanks," Selene said. She looked at her watch. It should take about half an hour to get to the office in this downpour. She'd check out the history on the house tomorrow.

And go to yoga class. She needed peace and tranquility.

And that's the truth. To some extent.

to be continued...