THE LANDLADY by Jay Jay.

TWENTY.

Twenty years had gone by. One year for every party-goer that had died in the house. Maybe just twenty years too soon this time. The neighbours this time had long memories.

The Real Estate woman shook her head in frustration. The house was beautiful. It was fresh and clean, presented so well, yet, every time, one of the neighbours had quietly appeared and had a quiet word with whatever client she had brought to the house, and the deal would fall through.

No-one, it seemed, wanted to rent a well known murder house.

Cindy shook her blonde hair, ran a comb through it nervously. This latest client, a family man with a good income, wife and four children, would find this house ideal. Big backyard, reasonably priced, plenty of bedrooms, new extra bathroom. Neutral colours, a soft grey-white. Even cute period pieces, like the old Victorian fireplaces, not functional of course but a great talking point for visitors.

Hopefully they were the only talking points, she thought grimly.

The younger clients and the ones from out of the area had no idea that this was the house where the brutal, unsolved murders of twenty young people had occured. The murder case was still on the radar, however, since there had been so much improvement in forensics and a few cold cases were being re-looked at. Some of the parents kept the story to the fore, pleading for closure about what had happened to their loved ones. One in particular, the birth mother of a girl called Jess, was, in Cindy's opinion, a drama queen who liked to get off on the publicity and didn't seem particularly honest enough in her grief. But the years had moved on, most people had put it to the back of their minds. Plenty more murders had happened since then. Cindy was sure it was time to get some people back into the house.

Old Mrs Jones, the land lady, seemed such a nice old thing. She said she'd inherited the property from her parents a few years ago. She said that she was happy to live in the small cottage, since her divorce from her husband, she didn't want to rattle around in the big empty house anymore. She said it would be lovely to see some people enjoy the house, just as she had in the years following the tragedy. She said the house always felt positve to her, not a hint of the bad thing at all. 

Money wasn't an issue, she wanted enough to pay the rates and expenses and just a wee profit on top. Therefore, although other flats in the area were being rented out for considerably more, Mrs Jones' old house was at a very reasonable price. 

Cindy was charmed by old Mrs Jones and her faint English accent. Cindy loved Mrs Jones fine china tea cups and little dainty biscuits. Cindy was determined to find the right sort of people to live in the house, though Mrs Jones said she didn't honestly mind if the people were a bit rough, after all, everyone needs a home, dear.

So she brought her latest client to the gate, let him admire the house from the road, before leading him to the front door. But, once again, as soon as she had let Mr Banks in to look at the house, a neighbour from across the road appeared, and hung around the front gate.

Cindy had had enough.

"This is private property," she said.

"I'm not inside the property," the neighbour smiled. "Just having a look. Is it up for rent?"

"You know damn well it's up for rent. You can see 'Property Manager' all over my car!"

"Well, could be for sale, eh? Do you mind if I have a look inside?"

"NO!" Cindy screeched in frustration.

Mr Banks appeared. Could this get any worse?

"What's wrong?"

"You realize that this is where twenty youngsters were murdered twenty years ago?" the neighbour said.

"No, I did not know that." Mr Banks narrowed his eyes at Cindy.

"It was so long ago," Cindy flustered. "It is not an issue anymore. The place has been cleaned and redecorated and renovated."

"It is lovely inside," Mr Banks said, "and the price is attractive. But I feel I need to discuss this with my wife, and maybe do some research. Could we see some other houses today,  just for comparison?"

Throwing daggers at the neighbour, Cindy drove away with Mr Banks. It wouldn't do to read Cindy's thoughts just then. Lets just say, if the neighbour had turned up dead, Cindy might be on the short list of suspects.