Apparently, the Goodwins were still interested enough in the Waxmans’ house to hire an engineer to evaluate it. It was, she said, a miracle that someone would be willing to buy a house that was the scene of a murder, and that we should “bend over backward” to accommodate them. The reason Linda called me was that she needed Renee’s permission to let the engineer make his inspection, but every time she called the number in Florida she got disconnected. Sam, I figured, must have been intercepting the call and hanging up on her. I told her I would get right on it. Sure enough, when I called the Waxmans’ home Sam picked up on the first ring. I pictured him sitting on a floral sofa with the phone on his lap, not letting anyone near it. “It’s Bev Bloomrosen,” I said. “I need to talk to my mother. It’s important.” I was being cagey. I thought if I asked to speak to my mother he might pass the phone, whereas if I asked for Renee he’d likely hang up. “Who is this?” he said.
