Page 18 of Fire Dancer
Hardy threw a wild-eyed look at the only other person in the office — Louise Bartly, according to her nameplate — who reached for her phone, eyeing the numbers nine, one, and one.
I flashed my government ID, then stuck it away before they noticed the Department of Agriculture part. “All right, everyone. Settle down.”
Hardy pointed at Pippa. “Tell her that.”
She crossed her arms. “No, you tellmewhy my property is listed when it’s not for sale.”
He stuttered a few times. “As I said, I only want the best for you and your sisters. And if your circumstances were to change…”
“What circumstances?”
A satisfied look flashed behind the fear in Hardy’s eyes.
“Say, a property reassessment or a tax increase you’re unable to meet…”
Pippa’s brows pinched. “Tax increase?”
Hardy shuffled through some papers, then turned one around. Pippa opened her mouth to yell, then stopped, stunned. Her eyes ran over the text again and again.
I frowned. Now what?
She grabbed the paper to inspect it more closely. “What are you doing with an assessment of my property?”
Hardy went from terrified to smug. “Property assessments are a matter of public record. And that there document says yours has been undervalued for years.”
Pippa reread the paper, muttering, “Harlon fucking Greene. He’s behind this, isn’t he?”
My ears perked at that mention of the warlock who’d recently been intercepted by the agency. I hadn’t been involved in the case, but it had led to the establishment of a new agency post in Sedona — the post I now filled.
I leaned in to read over Pippa’s shoulder. Harlon Greene’s illegal business deals had been brought to light by Pippa, her sisters, and Nash. Now, it appeared the warlock was wreaking his revenge, perhaps through an anonymous tip to the tax authorities.
“Property in Sedona is worth a hundred times what it was in your great-aunt’s day,” Hardy pointed out.
I narrowed my eyes. It seemed Hardy had had the ranch in his sights for years.
“Maybe, but twenty-six million?” Pippa shook her head.
Hardy pulled out a calculator and made a show of working out the math. “That’s…let me see… Yes. It comes to a tax increase of about ten thousand dollars.”
“Ten thousand?” Pippa screeched.
“Per year.” Hardy placed his glasses on the desk with glee. “And seeing as such assessments can be backdated three years…”
Pippa’s eyes went wide. Mine too. There was no way she or her sisters could come up with that kind of money.
“Thirty thousand.” Hardy tut-tutted. “Quite a burden, I know.”
Pippa slapped the document back onto his desk and leaned in, looking dangerous as hell. “You seem to know an awful lot about all this, Bob.”
The wheels of his chair squeaked as he edged away.
“You think I don’t see through this?” Pippa went on.
I touched her shoulder, but she smacked my hand away.
“You’ve been after our property for years, and you know it,” Pippa raged. “I bet you already have the plans all sketched out. Subdivisions, McMansions, a golf course…”
My nose twitched, and I glanced around. What was that acrid smell?