Nick told her about getting locked into the house and the door knob burning him. Leslie glanced back at the old house. The door stood open. Together they went back to the porch. All looked normal. There were no sounds.
Leslie still paid Nick a bit for removing the one shrub and a bit extra. They agreed that it was best to call it quits on the house repairs. They parted ways.
Leslie went back to her office and listed the property on the company website. But she couldn't forget the strange events. She went online and queried the building's address. Some old newspaper articles popped up.
She found that previous owners had called the police to report strange things with the house, but the police never found anything. There was the murder in the 1970's. Those people had been the ones to remodel the house. She even found their original permits for the job. She also found that a bar fight in the 1920's had resulted in the death of the owner who converted the house to a speakeasy.
She dismissed all the articles as just coincidence. It was her job to sell the place and collect her commission, which she needed badly.
She put the Walker house out of her mind and went home for the evening. She didn't think about the place for several days until she got a call from a real estate speculator. He thought he might be able to use the land for some condos. She agreed to meet him at the property to show him around.
Leslie went to the property twenty minutes ahead of time. She had to look around to find something positive about the place. There must have been something there she could talk up to the prospective buyer.
She went back into the house; not with the idea that anyone would live there. She looked around for architectural elements that could be salvaged before the house was torn down. Those salvage items would be money in the buyer's pocket above the sale of the condos. Who knew, she could maybe be the listing agent for the condos as well.
She felt pretty happy at the prospect of making a good bit of money as she walked through the house, forgetting all that had happened to both her and Nick during their previous visits.
She made note of the few items in the house that she thought could be salvaged. The remodel in the seventies had removed any of the charming items usually found in Victorian styled houses as old as this one.
She thought that if not for the remodel, there might have been a chance that a new owner wouldn't plan on tearing the place down. Just as the thought crossed her mind, the light streaming in from the windows grew noticeably darker. "Just a cloud," she thought. She continued to her search as the front door slammed behind her.
Leslie, jumped, remembering the previous incidents. She called out thinking maybe the buyer came early. No one answered.
She took a step closer to the door, but the floor boards creaked loudly under her feet. They suddenly felt weak and sagged noticeably under her weight. With her second step, the board snapped catching her foot as it went through into the crawl space below.
Leslie yanked her foot out of the hole, losing her shoe and cutting her foot on a nail that happened to be there. A tear rolled down her cheek as she felt the pain. With her heart beating wildly, she rushed back to the door finding it stuck.
In desperation she cried out, "I hope they do tear this place down and soon!"
No sooner than the words left her lips, she felt the old house shake. She knew that there were no earthquakes in that part of the country, but that was exactly what it felt like. She glanced around with wide eyes to see if the house was really moving. Her back to the door, she saw the dishes topple out of the curio on to the floor.