Since Spence didn’t have Gregg’s number, something he intended to rectify the next time they talked, he had to wait for Gregg to call him before he could tell him he might have gotten the name of the man who had been so interested in buying the house.
Unfortunately, so far, Gregg hadn’t called, as Spence found out when he went through his voicemails. There were only three, two from reporters, and one from Mr. Wilson, the neighbor across the street, offering his condolences. Spence returned the call, and spent five minutes listening while Mr. and then Mrs. Wilson told him how sorry they were. When they’d hung up, he felt worse than he had all day, which was saying something.
He wasn’t hungry, but it was suppertime and he knew he should eat. He’d almost finished putting together a sandwich
