Author: GJ Welsh

Sarah was like all the other estate agents, as was her fate.

“Pristine, you can see she has had a bit of work done. But she has solid bones and great resale value.”

Every house they saw came with a matching real estate agent, in matching skirting and branded vehicle, their airbrushed smiles beaming from magnetic signs on the doors of outdated luxury sedans.

Gail was a fix-er-upper. She told us about her failed marriage. And the fact that she had to ‘downscale’ herself. But she still had her ‘gals’ and ‘wine night’. She just needed a polish, and she would be up on the market again herself.

Penelope was falling apart. The more you looked around, the more problems you found. Five rundown bedrooms, one for every ex-husband, and a kitchen that hadn’t had its stove cleaned in years. But still, going for a bargain price.

They had met dozens like these ladies. Every house had a story, and every agent had a few more. They were a great team; he played the disinterested husband, while his wife always knew the right questions to ask. While he sneaks up behind them with the sedative.

Sarah took a little extra effort to take down. You see, Sarah had had it tough. She lost it all and then tried to inhale life back from a paper bag. She was used to solvents. She had fought off thugs under bridges and stabbed a guy behind a warehouse with a fork. She knew how to fight.

Sarah is doing better now, she is off the drugs, has a new boyfriend who is too into bats, and she is taking taekwondo down at the community centre.

“Are there good schools in the neighbourhood?”

Sarah was about to answer.

Sarah doesn’t go down like the others. She has a bit of tolerance to the substance. She staggers. Her face contorts in a dopey sneer as she realises the danger that these two sweet househunters present to her. She didn’t even tell Carol at the desk at Top Floor Realty that she had taken the keys for the Pringle place by the lakeside. No one knew she was here.

The parquet floors really are immaculate and have been polished to a beautiful sheen for the showhouse. Sarah slips on her way out. He follows.

She made it to her vehicle before he got her, the bonnet of the car finished the job that the chloroform had started.

Sarah was like all the other estate agents whose airbrushed smile on a magnetic sign is added to their collection. Sarah and the sedan both fetch a fair price. They were almost pristine, despite a few dings.