Selling Murder House

Chapter 1 (Continued)

Winnie stopped to lift his leg on a thick oak tree. While I waited for the dog to do his business, my gaze drifted down a side street. The fog was thinning, and through it I could just see the Madsen House. It had probably once been bright, but was now a pale yellow, with jet black shuttered windows and greying white columns. It was huge, three stories high and just as wide, with covered porches on either side. It stood out from the rest of the Saddlebrook homes, not necessarily because it was larger or more beautiful, but because of the yellow tape that enclosed it.

Something bad had happened at that house. Someone had died.

This was big news for Saddlebrook and the surrounding neighborhoods, because nothing bad ever happened at Saddlebrook. It wasn't even really "news," because there were no real reports of what had happened. Everything I knew, and everything anyone knew as far as I could tell, was all speculation and gossip. Some guy at a work event said he knows someone whose client knows someone who knows the Madsen family (a reliable source, no doubt). He said it was a murder-suicide, that Mr. Madsen just snapped one day.

From my vantage point, the house looked old and sad. I knew it was my imagination -- I had seen the house on many other days and had never felt one way or another about it -- but I swear the windows looked darker, the shutters seemed to sag. Everything about the facade was closed, like a prison full of secrets.

I shivered. Winnie started sniffing at his own pee puddle, so I pulled him along. I wasn't about to show up to this meeting with my dog smelling like piss, though the thought of Winnie kissing Stassi on the mouth was kind of entertaining.

The Larson Group had a chic little office uptown, with just enough room for each agent to have a desk, and each owner to have an office. Lilian and her brother Leo owned the Larson Group. Both Larsons were tall, blonde, devastatingly fashionable, and somewhere between the ages of 35 and 65 -- it was really hard to tell.

When I entered the office's main room, some of the agents were busy on their laptops, others hadn't arrived yet. Lilian and Leo were there, chatting over cups of coffee in the small lounge area where we held our staff meetings. I smiled.

"Good morning, Mary," Leo said, flashing his signature smile, one that said 'yes I know how handsome I am.'

Leo and Lilian were alike in a lot of ways. They were obviously similar in appearance, and they were both extreme workaholics and startlingly intense. Lilian, though, had a maturity and poise that her brother severely lacked. She was strong, but kind, fair, but ruthless. She was a natural born leader.

Leo was . . . kind of an asshole.

He eyed Winnie with distaste as I removed his leash.

"Is that a dog or a . . . teacup pig?" he asked.

I couldn't tell if he was being an asshole or not. I think it might've been a serious question. I sometimes wondered if Leo said asshole-ish things simply because he didn't know what else to say to people unless they were talking about money or property. I decided to let him off easy.

I laughed and lifted Winnie. In Leo's defense, he did have a certain pig-like quality. He had short black fur, a round little body with short, skinny legs, and his snoot had that smushed, wrinkly look. He was a weird little creature, but undeniably adorable.

"I don't think he's got any pig in him, but he might be part pug," I said with a laugh, rubbing Winnie's chin.

Leo was saved a response when Stassi entered the office. A Stassi entrance is like a short, violent storm, all clomping heels, jingling keys, and shouting. She wasn't the kind of person who could sneak up on you -- you always heard her coming.