“It was simply a house where happy times had been lived out and a tragedy had occurred. A house that had been cleansed of all signs of that tragedy and rendered bland for sale.She walked along the central hallway, looking into the silent rooms she knew so well. What struck her now was the lack of clutter. Ronnie had inherited a great many things from his father, a consummate collector, and all of it—books, a model railroad, stamps, coins, firearms, sculptures, animal heads, Indian artifacts, old... typewriters—had found its way from the architecturally overwrought mansion where he had grown up to this new, simpler house on the land that once had belonged to Noah Estes. The things Ronnie didn’t care for, such as the animal heads and firearms, were kept out of sight, but most of it had been on display. Carly supposed the real estate agent had packed it up so that the house would show better, but its absence made the house seem ordinary. The decor was nice, the curve of the staircase graceful, but the kitchen was badly designed and the rooms were too small.No, the house—even if two people hadn’t been murdered in it—was not what made this property desirable; it was the beauty of the land, the privacy.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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