Selling Murder House

Chapter 6 (Continued)

I left the Madsen House feeling sweaty and raw. The light of day looked pale and bluish to my adjusting eyes, as if the pink shade of the walls had become, in that short time, a kind of default setting in my vision. It made me think of the phrase "rose-colored glasses," and now that they were off, the dread of reality was setting in.

What the hell was I going to tell Paul if Leo ultimately decided the Group wouldn't represent him? If Leo did decide to let me list it, there was no way he could ever know about the state of that house, I decided then. He could never set foot in it, at least not until it was painted and redecorated. A hideous dollhouse motif on top of an already brutal reputation would be way too much even for Stassi's power of influence.

I fished out my phone to check my email as I walked home, but it was dead. I sighed and put it back in my purse.

Just as I reached the end of the drive, a figure emerged from behind a tall shrub, nearly running into me. I yelped in surprise, jumping back.

"Sorry," he said quickly, head bent low, then walked by me in the other direction.

"Sorry," I said back, my reflex-response to getting too close to any stranger, even when it was their fault.

I watched him walk away, letting my heartbeat return to a normal rate. He was tall and muscular, maybe late 30s, from what I could see. My gaze paused on his head, where he wore a blue baseball cap.

How had I missed him as I'd made my way down the drive, I wondered as a spasm of paranoia twisted my stomach. After we nearly collided, he made his way off down the sidewalk, as if he'd been walking that way, but I would have seen him, wouldn't I? Unless he'd been standing behind the shrub as I walked down the drive. But doing what?

I suppressed the urge to shout after him. What would I even say? Hey, I demand you tell me who you are and what you're doing! And where were you on the night of Family Dinner? Instead, I walked home, like a normal human being.

When I got home, I put my phone on the charger. It was so dead that the screen stayed black, despite my constant pressure on the power button. I sighed. I'd been looking forward to checking my email, to see if Leo had made a decision about the listing. What had he said, "I don't have a good feeling about it"? Well, I certainly didn't either. My earlier optimism had almost entirely faded.

Winnie whined at the door, his little cast dragging heavily beside him.

"I promised you some play time, didn't I?" I said.

Winnie stared back at me with a pleading expression that was so cute I momentarily forgot about all my problems. I left my phone to charge and took Winnie down to play in the courtyard.

The courtyard was one of the best features in the complex and nobody ever really used it. It was a grassy patch of land with a few sun-bleached lawn chairs and a grill that was about 90% rust. What was great about it, though, was that it was an entirely enclosed space with more than enough room for a tiny dog with a broken leg to waddle around in off-leash. I'd brought a few of Winnie's favorite toys down with us, a tiny frisbee, a raggedy knotted rope, and a squeaky stuffed duck that had long lost all of its stuffing. We played a half-hearted game of fetch with the ball, before Winnie wandered off, frustrated by the weight of the cast slowing him down. He sniffed around the grass, found a comfortable spot, and laid down.

"Poor baby," I whispered.

I sat on the grass beside him, then laid down as well. The grass was cool and itchy on the back of my deck, but a patch of sunlight warmed the skin on my face. I closed my eyes.

I was back at the Madsen House, somewhere upstairs. I was alone in a room, where a sparkling chandelier shone so bright I could barely keep my eyes open. The pink walls were bright too, brighter than I remembered them. Less of a muted, dusty rose and more of a bubblegum Barbie color. The effect was mesmerizing, overwhelming, and I struggled to take in my surroundings. There was a bed, I noticed, a large four-poster with flowers etched into the wood of the frame.

I wondered where Paul was. He must have led me here, on a tour of the house, I thought, but I couldn't remember where he'd gone off to. I felt embarrassment warm my cheeks. Had I wandered off, gotten lost? Had I fallen asleep on this stranger's bed? Whatever it was, I had a sense that I had done something wrong. My eyes hurt. They wouldn't focus on any one thing. I needed to get out of there. I needed to go home.

I moved through a doorway into a long corridor I didn't recognize. It was bright there too, everything was sparkling and oversaturated. I looked for the stairs, found them at the other end of the hall. I walked unsteadily, like I was drunk. Every time I blinked the hall shifted and I'd lose sight of the stairs. I tried to focus, to keep my vision locked on the target, but it was no use. I stumbled and caught myself on the bright-pink wall. I used it to guide me along the corridor. I kept one shoulder against the wall, leaned my weight against it, the weight of it pushing back on me grounded me in place. I made it to the stairs. I gripped the railing tight as I went down.

It led me to another landing I didn't recognize, not the ground floor. It wasn't as bright there, wasn't as difficult to see my way around. Still, I was lost. I couldn't remember this part of the house on the tour either. I supposed there must be another set of stairs leading down to ground level, where I could surely find the door to exit. Until I found it, all I could do was wander.

I searched room by room looking for the stairs. My vision wasn't shifting like it had before, but all the rooms looked so much alike I couldn't tell which ones I'd been through and which were still unexplored. The layout didn't make sense. One room, a bedroom, led directly into another, nearly-identical bedroom, but when I passed through the threshold, then turned to go back, the doorway was gone. Another time, I tried to go back the way I'd entered, and the doorway opened to a small walk-in closet.

My breath became shallow with impatience and rising panic. I noticed, as I explored, that the lights became dimmer and dimmer. Soon, the house was dark, and I was squinting to see, feeling around for doorknobs in the darkness.

Someone was coming. I could hear footsteps, heavy and booming above my own every time I walked. They came louder and louder, so loud I couldn't ignore them . . .

I gasped and sat up, unsure where I was. Winnie's furious barking and the dampness on my back grounded me. I was in the courtyard. I'd fallen asleep. The sun had set. And there was someone standing over me.

"Are you okay?" someone said.

I took a deep breath. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I realized I recognized the person standing in front of me. He was a neighbor I'd seen around. Behind him, another figure stood, a girl I vaguely recognized. Probably his girlfriend.

I managed to laugh. "Yeah, I'm okay. Oh my god, I must have fallen asleep out here."

He returned the laugh nervously and nodded at the figure behind him.

"Oh thank god," he said. "We couldn't tell if you were a mannequin or a dead body. Sorry we startled you."

"Just an embarrassingly disorganized person," I said.

They waved and walked away. I put my head in my hands.

I returned to my apartment groggy from the nap. I fed Winnie, hoping he hadn't filled up on mulch and grass while he was unsupervised. I poured myself a bowl of cereal -- I was starving, and too tired to make a proper dinner -- then sat on the couch to check my emails. There was nothing in my inbox from Leo, but there was a new message in my voicemail box.

"Mary, I thought it over," Leo's voice, loud in my ear. "I'll let you rep the Madsen House, but on one little condition. Seeing as you're so new, and this house has its uh, challenging history, to say the least, I'd like you to co-list it with Stassi. I think the two of you have very complementary skill sets that . . ."

"Fuck," I said aloud, through a mouthful of cocoa puffs.