It was Valentine's Day and Pauline had one showing with the perfect client.
He was a decent looking fellow, well dressed as he walked into her cubicle two days ago. He politely asked if she could find a home that would fit the needs a couple with a baby on the way. All he required was a large walk in closet in the master bedroom, the rest would not matter.
Pauline had smiled at him, stepped from behind the desk and perched herself on the corner of the desk. At 5' 7", Pauline was leggy, blonde and athletic. She removed an imaginary piece of lint from her short skit, crossed her ankles and asked: "What price range are you looking at."
The Man looked at Pauline's legs, smiled and answered, "Price is not an issue."
That is what makes him the perfect client, thought Pauline as she gathers up her brief case and leaves to meet the Nice Guy.
The Nice Guy was waiting at the address that Pauline had given him. He had a small gear bag with him that held all his "tools": two long pieces of rope; three red scarves; a bottle of liquid soap; three bath towels; condoms; and a roll of gray duct tape. He also had a collapsible stool in the back seat. He smiled at the thought of how he was going to use that.
He had obsessed about Pauline since he had seen her picture in the real estate section of the paper. He was looking for a new home; Pauline was going to be an added bonus.
He saw her drive up and get out of the car. She is wearing a red mini dress and heels. She waves at him and he puts on his best smile and waves back. Then he grins...
Pauline saw that grin and hesitated. She saw something in that grin that set off every survival alarm bell in her body. For a moment, she saw a wolf, grinning at his prey. Pauline takes a step back towards her car as the Nice Guy gets out of his.
"I really like the house. I think this will be an easy sell," he says with the smile Pauline knew and liked.
The prospect of an easy sell begins to silence the alarms in her head. She steps forward and shakes the Nice Guy's hand. He smiles warmly.
He follows her up the drive way, his bag over his shoulder, stool carried in one hand.
Pauline looks back stops, and takes the stool from him.
"I'll help you with this."
"Thanks, I wanted..."
"To take measurements," she finishes his sentence for him. They both laugh together. Pauline sighs inwardly, pity he is married, she thinks.
Once inside, Pauline begins her running dialogue on the attributes of the house. She answers all his questions.
When they reached the master bedroom, he takes the stool from her.
"Show me the walk-in closet."
Pauline stops in mid sentence. "You sure you don't want to see the bathroom?"
"Water on in the house?"
Strange question, she thinks. "Yes."
"Then we will get to that later. Show me the closet."
Pauline nods and walks to the closet and opens the door. It is a deep closet with two long wooden closet rods running along the length of the space.
The Nice Guy flips the light switch on and closes the door behind them. He opens the stool and puts the bag on top of it. Pauline steps back as he steps forward.
"You are going to measure in here?" For some reason she her body begins to tremble.
The Nice Guy grins. As the survival alarms go off in Pauline's head, he slides a switch blade knife from his pocket, pops it open, and puts a hand over Pauline's mouth and the knife to her throat.
