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Page 100
"My concern is that the Samborskys or somebody else dumped something in the ground."
"Listen, Calvin, I really doubt there's any problem. I mean, your lawn is nice and green, right?"
"That does not tell me why the place went for a song."
There was another long pause. Then: "Calvin, this is a small town, and small towns have rumors. You came in cold from the outside and had no knowledge of what the mill can crank out around here."
"So you're saying the place was a commercial dump, and everybody knew, including the Samborskys, which explains the pricetag?"
"No, I'm saying that there were rumors about that end of the woods. But there was absolutely no evidence, believe me. You should know that. You had your backyard dug up for the pool, right? Find anything funnybarrels, odd structures, foundationsanything but God's good dirt?"
She was right. "No."
"There you are. Rumors."
"But they had to come from someplace."
Beverly chuckled. "The Greenpeace Fairy? Calvin, who knows where rumors come from? Maybe they affected the price, maybe not. And if they did, count yourself lucky."
"But didn't it surprise you what they were asking?"
"Sure, but in this business there are surprises every day." She tried to laugh him off. "Calvin, like I said when you bought it, don't look a gift horse in the mouth."
"Empty rumors?"
"Exactly." Her voice had resumed its satisfaction.
"Such as what?"
"Ridiculous things," she said, spinning them out. "That the place was haunted, that the woods had some Indian curse on it, that there were demon dogs running around. Numb-nutty things that just come out of the air . . . or maybe a bottle of Chivas. Who knows? But it was all nonsense, believe me."
"Did Mrs. Samborsky know its market value?"
"Who knows what she knew? She was a grieving old widow."
"But you were her agent. If you knew they were empty rumors, why didn't you push for a higher price?"

 
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