The realtor

“Hey, look!”

Jenny Parker pulled her Honda Civic next to the curb in front of 1974 Chameleon Lane, pointing at the “For Sale” sign in the front yard of the ranch-style house. Her husband, Chase, rolled down the window and gave the property a once-over.

Scott Adamson writes stuff. Follow him on Threads @sladamson1960 and Adamsonmedia on Facebook.

The gray roof looked new, as did the bone-colored aluminum siding. Twelve Whitestone steps led up to a spacious porch and a large, red front door.

“Looks promising,” Chase said. “But a lot of houses we’ve looked at were promising until we found out the cost. Let me take a picture of the number on the sign so we can call and check it out.”

Just as Chase aimed the camera on his smartphone at the sign, the front door swung open and a man wearing a tan linen suit stepped out.

“Hello,” he said, smiling and waving at the couple. “Are you guys interested in looking at the house?”

Jenny and Chase couldn’t get out of their car fast enough.

“Yes!” Jenny said, excitedly. “We moved down from Bridleton about eight months ago for my new job, but we’ve had no luck finding a house. We’re getting really tired of apartment living.”

“Thing is,” Chase piped in. “It’s a seller’s market, and we’ve only got so much we can afford.”

The man walked down the steps and extended his hand.

“I’m Norv Paxton of Mockingbird Realty,” he said. “To set your mind at ease, what do you think this house is going for – just a ballpark guess. I’ll bet you’ll be pleasantly surprised.”

Jenny and Chase looked at the house, then looked at each other.

“It’s what … 23, 2400-square feet?” Jenny asked. “This is mostly a rural area so that might knock the price down some. I’m gonna say about $800,000. But right now we’re on a tight budget, so that would be a pretty big stretch for us.”

“What if I told you,” Norv said, “that you can have this house for $650,000?”

Chase laughed.

“No way,” Chase said. “Seriously? If that’s what you’re asking there must be some serious structural issues. Don’t tell me … the basement floods, right? There’s gotta be something wrong.”

Norv motioned for the potential buyers to follow him into the house.

“OK, “ Norv said, after Jenny and Chase had made their way inside. “Walk with me. There are no structural issues – at all. It’s four bedrooms, two and half baths, hardwood floors in the living room with cathedral ceiling and a gas log fireplace. You’ve got a dining room with great natural lighting and a kitchen with everything you need.

“The primary bedroom has a bath with a double vanity, and the lower level has a bonus room, laundry room and half bath. Come down and I’ll show you.”

Everything looked perfect – until Jenny spotted a large, dark stain on the floor of the bonus room.

“Ah,” she said. “That looks like there are some water issues down here.”

Norv shook his head.

“No,” he said. “No water issues. But that stain is the reason we’re offering this house at such a huge discount. By law, I have to let you know that there has been a violent death in this house in the last three years. And because you look like nice people, I’m going to be completely honest – it was a pretty grisly murder.”

“Ugh,” Jenny said. “I think I already know the answer, but is that stain … blood?”

Norv, who had been grinning continuously, suddenly turned serious.

“Well,” he said. “It’s whatever chemicals they used to clean the blood. Look, I realize how off-putting something like that can be. This is hardly a high-crime area, it was just a random act. And, the killer is spending life in prison without a shot at parole, so the house is not some kind of target.

“I tell you what … I’ll talk to the trustee. I think I can get them to go as low as $600,000. Whaddya say? You’ll never, ever find a deal this good – not for a house this great.”

“Excuse us just for a second,” Jenny said.

The couple whispered quietly to each other as Norv walked a few feet away.

“Norv,” Jenny said. “I think you might have a deal. This is the perfect size for us – and the perfect price – and houses don’t have memories, do they? Can we meet back with tomorrow morning around 11 and set the wheels in motion?”

Norv pumped his fist.

“We most certainly can!” he exclaimed. “Let me check everything inside and lock up the house, and I’ll see you guys in the morning.”

Jenny and Chase got back in the car, cranked it up, and drove away.

“Is it creepy that we’re gonna move into a house where somebody got killed?” Jenny wondered.

Chase shrugged.

“A little maybe,” he said. “But I’d rather feel creepy than feel broke. We can just put a rug down and …

“Shit!” Jenny shouted. “I have to meet with a  client tomorrow at 11. I completely forgot. Call the number real quick and see if we can do it after, say, 12:30.”

Chase looked at the photo of the sign and punched in the numbers.

“Yes,” he said. “This is Chase Parker. My wife and I just met with a Mr. Norv Paxton over here at, uh, 1974 Chameleon Lane, I believe it is. He wants to meet us at 11 a.m. tomorrow to discuss – excuse me? Yes, Norv Paxton. No, I’m not kidding, I …”

Jenny glanced at Chase, who stayed on the phone another 30 seconds or so before dropping it onto his lap.

As he turned to Jenny, she could see all the color had drained from his face.

“What’s wrong, Chase … You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” she said.

“I guess I did,” he said. “Whoever I just talked to thought I was making a sick joke. She said Norv Paxton used to live at 1974 Chameleon Lane.

“He was murdered there three years ago.”