Door to Door
Being a door to door salesman in the Midwest in the late 1950s was a pretty fine way to live for Arnold Jones. He was still single at the age of 36 and liked it that way. It meant he could travel from town to town selling the latest must have encyclopedia sets for a small weekly payment. He was surprisingly good at his job and made enough in commissions to ensure a decent standard of motel to stay in and all the creature comforts. He drove a three year old sedan that was fully paid for and dressed in a good suit.
Life was good for Arnold, who had decided to work a small town he had driven into en route to Minneapolis. It seemed a fine town with plenty of residential streets and would certainly be worth his while stopping over for a day or two. So he checked into the only motel on the outskirts of the town, showered and got himself ready to go knock on some doors.
The first few streets were harder work than he supposed they would be, but Arnold still managed to get two housewives to sign up for the incredible educational opportunity of a lifetime for their children. One thing that he enjoyed about his work was the fact that the product he was selling at least would be furthering the education of children, which gave him some satisfaction that could not be marred by the fact that he was most likely placing those families into a debt they could really do without.
About halfway along the third street he came upon an old house that looked like it could use a good clean up and a decent coat of paint. Nevertheless, he walked up the path to the front door. No opportunity was ever missed by Arnold, who knew from experience that anyone, no matter how poor in appearance, could be a potential customer. He knocked and waited, but there was no answer. He waited for what he considered was a reasonable amount of time before stepping back to check the upstairs windows for any sign of movement. A voice from his right startled him momentarily.
"You're wasting your time on that house," called the rather pretty housewife he judged in her late 20s called over the dilapidated picket fence.
"Good day ma'am. Might I ask why you would say that?" Arnold replied politely.
"Not seen hide nor hair of them in days. Always shouting and arguing they were. Violent arguing that I didn't much care for and I didn't like my kids to hear it either. Then it all went quiet almost a week ago, not a sound. I'm glad of the peace and quiet, to be honest."
"Did they move away?" Arnold had already lost interest but felt he should remain polite. After all, the neighbor was pretty and good manners often got him some extra-curriculum diversion from his otherwise mundane job.
"Don't know, sir. Just woke up one day after another night of fighting and yelling to blissful silence." She rewarded his good nature with a very comely smile. "Not my place to go prying into other people's business. Would you like a glass of homemade lemonade? You look like you could use some refreshment."
Arnold whispered a silent "thanks" and sneaked a quick glance towards the heavens and gratefully accepted the offer that would turn out to be far more generous than it innocently appeared. "I'd like that very much, thank you. The name's Arnold, by the way."
As Arnold started towards the neighbor's picket fence, he involuntarily glanced back at the upstairs window of the dilapidated house and could have sworn he saw that curtain twitch. But his attention was on a more interesting subject right now.
"Pleased to meet you Arnold, I'm Mary Jane."
Arnold stepped over the low fence and held a hand out to the young woman. "So tell me Mary Jane, you're husband out at work and the kids at school?"
"That's right Arnold. Just me all alone in this house with nothing fun to do. Can you think of something that might be fun to do?" She took his hand and they strolled inside her home, laughing.
Some time later, Arnold emerged from Mary Jane's home and saying his goodbyes through the closing fly screen door, started towards his car that was parked out front. But once again, his attention was drawn to the upstairs window of the next door house and a curtain that he was sure twitched as he looked up at it. His curiosity was peaked and he walked back up the path to the front of the house.
As he approached the front door, he had a strange sensation of being watched closely. The net curtains up at the ground floor windows were too dirty to see through and there was no movement inside that he could detect. There was something else that he noticed that wasn't apparent until he was almost on top of it. Behind the dirty, closed fly screen door, the front door to the house was now open.
He opened the screen door and pushed the front door all the way open, then called out. "Hello, anybody in here?"
He was greeted with a heavy silence but being a curious person, he just could not stop himself walking into the house. He called out again, but received nothing more than silence for his answer. He explored the ground floor and although it was untidy, there were no signs that anyone had lived here for a while. He steeled himself for some more exploration and set off up the stairs. There were three doors leading off the stair landing, one front and two back of the house. He went to the front facing door first, as he guessed that this was the room wherein the movement at the window first attracted his attention.
Opening the door released a terrible stench that assailed his senses and he almost gagged. His first reflex need was to flee the house and call the cops, because there was sure to be something or someone long dead in that room. But once again, his curiosity got the better of him and he pushed his unwilling body into the room.
To the left was a night stand with a white robe hanging from the first of three hooks. On the bed to his right was the lifeless body of a youngish man, probably in his early 30s fully clothed lying on his back. There was a lot of blood that had seeped out from what was probably a gaping wound on the back of his head. It stained the bedclothes upon which his dead corpse lay. It looked to Arnold, who was certainly no expert but who had watched enough cop shows on TV to figure out that the man had been killed by a single blow to the head with a heavy object and then had been lifted onto the bed and arranged to make it look as if he were just sleeping on his back. He was certainly at peace now.
Arnold stood there at the foot of the bed staring at the corpse for a while as he collected his thoughts to try and figure out what his next move would be. He didn't remember seeing a telephone anywhere, so he realized he would have to go back next door and ask Mary Jane to call the cops. He was about to turn and leave when a sudden sense of not being alone hit him. He broke out in a cold sweat as the thought struck him that the killer was almost certainly the dead man's wife. It was also probable that she was still in the house. Maybe she was in this very room and creeping up on him as he stood there with his back to her. He could almost feel her breath on the back of his neck as he turned suddenly to meet the woman who had murdered her husband, probably in their final and most violent fight.
The room was empty, but something was different. Then he saw it. The robe was now hanging on the second hook on the nightstand. He knew then that he had not been alone in the room while he stood gazing down at the dead man.
Now he was spooked and decided that a rapid exit was the most expedient next move. He left the room and hurried down the stairs. So far so good, he told himself.
Having met with no resistance he headed for the front door. The door was now closed and locked. He tried to open it but it was now secured with a mortise lock with a key that was not in the lock. In his raising panic, Arnold did not hear the person creep up behind him and quite likely did not even feel the sudden violent blow to the back of his head that rendered him lifeless as his body collapsed in a heap on the floor.
The following day, after she had gotten her husband off to work and the kids off to school, Mary Jane came out to her garden to tend her flowers. She noticed the car that belonged to Arnold Jones parked out front. Well, he just had to go next door and find more than he was doubtless looking for. Well of course, he was an inquisitive man. Now she would have to arrange for his car to be towed. So much trouble and she was just a simple wife and mother who only wanted a peaceful existence.
Those neighbors were so noisy. Always fighting and shouting and cussing angrily at each other. Something had to be done to silence them. She was glad they were quiet now. She wondered if Arnold had found the woman in the back bedroom as well as the man in the front bedroom. Or the other door to door salesman in the guest bedroom that had also been rather more curious than was good for him after sampling her lemonade and partaking of her generous hospitality.
Mary Jane smiled a sinister smile and continued tending her flowers.