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Fiction Short Story

by Fiona L. Woods

For Sale

My husband Matt and I got home from our regular six o'clock morning workout at the gym on Wednesday. That was when I pointed out that our neighbor, Miss Violet Madison, two houses down, had a For Sale by Owner sign propped up against her front porch.

"That's strange," I told Matt. "Miss Madison asked me to see Pepper each day at the kennel while she's visiting her brother." Miss Madison had been my first grade teacher and even now, fifteen years later, she was still Miss Madison to me.

"Maybe she decided she liked it in Florida and she's not coming back," Matt said. "Or, maybe her brother isn't recuperating from his broken wrist as fast as she expected."

"What about Pepper?" I said distractedly. "She wouldn't leave him here; he's like her son."

"She'll call you to ship Pepper if the kennel can't do it for her," Matt said as he drove into the garage. "Did she give you a phone number to reach her?"

"She didn't leave me a phone number," I said, looking out the garage door at the For Sale sign. "We talked about it, but she said it wasn't necessary since she only planned to be gone two weeks."

"Well, she has our number. Check the answering machine. Maybe she already called about her change in plans."

But, when we got inside, she hadn't called.

After Matt left for his job at the police station, I decided it would be a good time to visit Pepper at Pet World Kennel.

Pepper recognized me instantly. He put his little front paws up on the side of his cage and barked his "Hello." The kennel owner, Jason Roberts, told me Pepper had already been exercised by one of his kennel assistants. When I went to take the little black Chihuahua out of his cage, he was shaking and wriggling with excitement.

"Be careful you don't get dog hair all over your suit," Jason cautioned. "Miss Madison told me he sheds when he gets excited and nervous."

"Have you heard from Miss Madison since she left yesterday?" I asked.

"No, she told me about his shedding before she left."

"Did she say when she'll be back?"

"She paid for two weeks."

It was later that morning when I went to put a letter in the mailbox that I saw the rental truck back up Miss Madison's driveway. I watched as two men got out and went into the house. The two movers were both tall and muscular; one was redheaded and the other blond. One of them, the redhead, seemed to be looking up and down the street as though watching for another truck. The blond was brushing the front of his t-shirt and jeans before walking in the front door.

Maybe Miss Madison was going to sell the house, I thought.

I walked over to Miss Madison's front door and listened for a moment. I heard nothing. I sneaked around to the side window and peeked in. The blond was pulling silverware out of the buffet and wrapping it in a cloth bag; the other man was nowhere around.

I sneaked back to the front porch. I stepped boldly up to the door and knocked.

When the blond man opened the door, I found myself staring into his dirty white t-shirt with a smell that almost made me gag. He was at least six feet tall to my five feet two inches.

Looking up, I smiled. "I saw the For Sale sign. May I take a look at the inside of the house?"

"The owner's not here right now," the man said, his bulk filling the doorway so I couldn't see inside. "You'll have to come back tomorrow."

"Please," I looked up and gave him what I hoped was a teasing wink. "It won't take long. I just want to see how big the house is on the inside."

Just then the other man came to the door. "Bill, what are you doing?" He stopped when he saw me.

"Could I see the inside of the house?" I asked the second man.

"We're not supposed to let people in when the real estate agent isn't here," the tall blond one said. "I told you, you'll have to come back tomorrow." He closed the door in my face.

That did it. I had a hunch.

I hurried back home and called Matt at the police station.

"Matt, I need you to come home. There's something fishy going on at Miss Madison's and I need your help."

"I'll be there in five minutes," he said.

"Come in an unmarked car," I said, "or you'll scare them away."

"Ten minutes then," he said and hung up.

When Matt got home, the movers were loading Miss Madison's possessions into the truck.

"Jason Roberts hasn't heard anything from Miss Madison since she dropped Pepper off."

"You're right," Matt said. "She wouldn't leave Pepper here, but that's not enough to prove anything."

We watched as the two men carried Miss Madison's television out to their truck.

"I think that blond one works at the kennel where Pepper is," I said. "He has dog hair all over the front of his t-shirt and he smells like a litter box."

"That would explain how they'd know she was gone and for how long."

"Look at the sign." I pointed out the living room window. "It says For Sale by Owner. When I went over there, one of the men told me to come back when the real estate agent was there."

"There's no real estate agent when the owner does the selling," Matt said.

"Remember Miss Madison's class motto, Always use the precise word in the precise place," I said. "She would never allow that sign in front of her house unless she was selling the house herself and there to show it to buyers."

"You're right. I'll call for backup and get those two downtown."


About the Author
Fiona L. Woods lives in Auburn, Washington. Her other fiction pieces featuring Lori and Matt Stockley have appeared in The Storyteller and Crime and Suspense.