Alright, Eddie Cochran, where the hell are you?
Five minutes late herself, Jane had considered shooting him a text on the way over, but coaxed the accelerator even closer to the floorboard instead. She was relieved to find that she had beaten him to the property. Now that ten minutes had elapsed since she eased the Land Rover alongside the curb, however, that relief was quickly becoming annoyance. She barely had enough time to squeeze this showing in as it was. Plucking the Treo from her purse, the phone vibrated furiously in her hand before her thumb could even find the first digit. A moment later, a tinny rendition of "When the Saints Go Marching In" blared from the tiny speaker. She glanced at the display.
Private Name, Private Number.
“This is Jane,” she said upon answering. “Hello, this is Jane,” she offered again when there was no reply. “Hello?”
She hung up and stepped out of the vehicle and into the crisp autumn day. The phone jumped in her hand again. This time, though, it wasn’t followed by song, but the telltale tone indicating that she had just received a text message.
that was me. bad reception. on my way - traffic. sorry!
Jane sighed heavily, knowing that her day was verging on blowing up, and it was only a quarter to ten. After calling to push back the client she was scheduled to meet on the other side of town in half an hour, she strode confidently to the front door. With the lockbox nowhere in sight, she took a 50/50 shot and headed to the left side of the house. Not there either. Naturally. Retracing her steps, she continued to the other side of the house, where she found the lockbox on the water spigot. Over the river and through the woods, she thought humorlessly as she fought through the bushes and heel-snagging gravel en route to the front door.
Upon unlocking the stubborn deadbolt and crossing the threshold, she was assaulted by the dank, oppressive stench of stagnant air. As so many homes do without a regular caretaker, it felt like stepping into a cask. She offhandedly wondered if the listing agent had ever set foot in the place. Not likely, she surmised. Determined to put the dead time to productive use, Jane scurried about the empty house, groping for light switches. Not believing what those in the front entry told her, she checked the dead connections in the kitchen and living room as well. No power. She didn’t really expect otherwise in a bank-owned property, but she always held out hope that there was an asset manager somewhere on this planet that got it.
She vainly tried to cast off some of the stuffiness by opening a couple of windows, all the while knowing that an entire potpourri factory could not mask the lingering regret and despair in the little Craftsman. Retrieving the dreams and promises that the home once held was not as simple as cracking a door to let them back in.
Another quick glance at her watch, and her annoyance was now verging on anger. Just another flakey internet lead who had no respect for her time. As she forcefully punched out a reply to his last text, it struck her that she had never even spoken with Eddie the Eagle (as she had immediately dubbed him after his initial registration on her website's MLS search). Welcome to the land of digital milk and honey. Without thinking about it, she depressed “Send” on the phone. A moment later, she was flooded with regret. Very professional, she mused.
Not a moment later, the phone buzzed in response. With considerable trepidation, she retrieved the new message. Above her previous message, which inquired, You coming, or what, was the terse reply.
I’m here.
Looking out the front plate glass window, Jane felt the first icy fingers of fear lightly trace a path along her spine. Despite the Eagle’s assertion that he had landed, the Rover was the only car parked out front. He had simply gone to the wrong address. Nothing sinister about a faulty Google map. So why did she suddenly feel vulnerable?
The phone shuddered again.
You are even prettier in person :)
Unable to draw the breath needed to scream, she backed away from the window in wide-eyed terror. From somewhere in the back bedrooms, the muffled, but deliberate sound of footsteps made its way to her.
She wasn’t alone in the house.
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So I'm at the edge of my seat ... a tale that one can draw our own ending maybe? It does serve as a reminder to us all regarding Realtor safety. Lets hope the story ends on a positve note and serves to remind this Realtor of the real dangers of not screening and meeting prior to showing and all the other smart things to do.
Okay, that is pretty creepy. But also a good cautionary tale for women showing homes to strangers. Is there any more?
So many messages here!!! Great blog!
Um yeah. When my broker wants to know why I'm not answering my phone now, I'm going to send him to your blog. Scary!! Thankfully I always take my hubby or partner when showing to strange men. One of these days a single woman's gonna whack me though and I'll be unprepared.
Is a new short story coming on? Inspired by your recent trek into the land of Growth Leader perhaps??
I really enjoyed this one. Keep it up, buddy. You are honing your craft.
When I read this blog, my first thoughts were why oh why did she go into the house alone.
I hope that this was a nonfiction story, and was created to teach a lesson.
Are you already taking another sabbatical? After all of the rest you got during the last one, I figured you had several more months before you had to step away again.
Hi Paul, Very creative way to reinforce a very important safety lesson. Lets all be safe out there !
Connie - Precisely what I had in mind. Really just having a little creative fun, but it does behoove us to remain cognizant of our safety. I fear that the slowdown in the industry may spur some to chase every flakey lead, to the detriment of their safety.
Cameron - I don't think I'm going to follow this one up with any subsequent chapters. Been there, done that, got the t-shirt. Fun diversion, but eats up a lot of free time.
Edd - Thank you, sir.
Sheree - Trouble always comes from where you least expect it. I have toddlers. I know.
Melina - Hmm. Didn't notice the parallel ;)
Jason - Have to write one for my own entertainment every once in awhile. All work and no play keeps Jack in diapers ... but Paul, too, unfortunately.
Paul ~ Sorry to hear there is no follow-up, especially since I decided to give Stephen King one more chance (for the 10th time), and, well, that didn't work out. A lesson that can't be stated enough though.
Thank you for your deep concern for your fellow agents' safety. I will keep this terrifying situation on the top of my mind.
I will also be keeping my trigger finger on a can of bear spray.
Scary.
Creepy.....and I am waiting for the next chapter. Gee...maybe I should have bought one of those "personal, pink, TASERS at the NAR Expo on Saturday.
I have a nice prison issue can of pepper spray at hand at all times. Doesn't mean things can't still happen but it makes me feel much safer.
Yehhhh Paul's back. I missed your fictional writing. Is there a part 2, 3, 4, .......?
So Paul, are you writing a book here? When I stop by, I see something that looks like one.....are you an author in disguise? ;-)
The first thing I thought of was "I woulnd NOT be going into that house!" Unfortunately, this happens all too often. Great reminder, and great way to keep everyone on the edge of their seats!
What a great story that moves one to thinking I'm sure. I will certainly have this on my mind for a while. You just never know.
BAM! He's baaaaaaaaaaaack ;)
Hi Paul, I suspect there is a message and another of ten part story brewing here. Am I right? You certainly do have some excellent literary skill, are you thinking about doing a novel? Could be very lucrative, you are quite good.
Kathy - You are a brave soul, but I, too, have given Stephen King far more chances than he has warranted of late. On his worst day, he will give you a far better read, but I don't charge $29.95. Advantage, me ;)
Elaine - And that's One to Grow On.
Virginia - Have you checked the children?
Christine - Did they have any in paisley?
Lori - I carry a dead skunk in my console at all times.
Mana - Not expecting any follow-up to this one. Then again, I wasn't on the last one either ;)
Teri - Nah. Just having a bit of fun. It seemed like a good way to make a point about safety while also satirizing the increasingly impersonal nature of our industry.
Jeannie - I wouldn't go into that house, but not because of the safety aspect. I just don't like the smell of moldy cat urine.
Joyce - Stranger things have happened, right?
Lisa - The Devil's greatest trick was convincing the world that he didn't exist ;)
William - There's always a message, sometimes it's just a bit muddled, even to me. I don't expect to embark on another multi-part story with this, but I thank you for the generous critique.
Quit calling me.
Wow that one had me holding my breath. Funny thing is I have been thinking about writing a blog on how to be safe. You all wouldn't belive what I do!!
Virginia - Stop screening my calls.
Tami - Now I'm intrigued. Do tell.
Dia Duit Paul,
Your Kids must love your bed time stories :) Nice writing Paul.
The wife doesn't let me tuck them in, Patrick ;)
Yikes... the blogger formerly known as Mei Ling is at it again... nice. Carwash redux?
No way, Jesse. I was thinking a syphilitic he-she for this one.
Why did you have to tell this story using one of my listings? Geez!!!!
Great work Paul.
You camping out in attics again, Cameron? Doesn't that violate your probation in one manner or another?
Hey, That probation thing is only a rumor started by some lady in Texas.