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THE MIDNIGHT SKULKER 9

San Diego, California

February 28, 1974

2:34 p.m.  Pacific Standard Time

A few miles east of the City of San Diego, her lip curling in obvious disgust, “This isn’t such a great neighborhood.”

‘Reading’ Marsha and Mitchell over lunch, pegging them as fairly intelligent people that quite possibly liked to… or did live beyond their means. Knowing if they like a property enough they would spend beyond their means. Purposely taking them to this ‘dump’ first, “You’re right, Marsha, but following your basic requirements I wanted to show you what you can get for your money.”

The front lawn of this faded light blue stucco, time worn wood shake roof, one story home with attached double garage was weedy with the grass well into the process of becoming completely burnt.

“This place looks, uh, really shitty, Len.”

“Yeah, I know, Mitch. But with a little money, some maintenance and a lot of watering it’ll come back.”

Thinking, More money than I want to spend and more maintenance than I want to do. “You said It has a pool?”

“It does, Mitch. And it’s nice inside, you’ll see.”

Thinking, let’s see what we can get for our money. “Okay,” Marsha said, “so long as we’re here, we may as well see it.”

Though the wall to wall carpeting in the living room was a bit threadbare, the interior was surprising well maintained and yes, there were four bedrooms with a nice sized kitchen and, though going to seed with, what at one time might have been a pretty back yard, there was a swimming pool… with considerable rust and black algae spotting.

“I’ve a great list of people and can recommend some really good gardeners. And if you get the pool resurfaced…”  

“What’s the price of this place?”

Looking at the ‘listing sheet’, handing Marsha a sales brochure, “Just reduced to eighty-five, nine from eighty-nine, nine.”

“Well…” Mitchell said.

“No!” Marsha said emphatically, “I don’t like it!”

 A ten minute ride from the house in Lemon Grove; the house in Spring Valley was in a nicer neighborhood, but, at eighty-five, nine also, the house was in worse disrepair, and no pool.

Going further south to National City, “This house is beautiful,” Marsha said.

“Yeah,” Mitchell added, “and the neighborhood's pretty good.”

However, half a block from the 805 freeway, the continual roar of traffic was evident and, even for the short time they were there, rather nerve-racking.

The showing of the first three houses had gone exactly as Leonard expected. Having played the realtor’s game of showing prospective home buyers low end properties within their price range, or slightly less than their price range, caused their expectations to lower. As planned, he now moved on to the more expensive properties.

Heading further south to Chula Vista, Leonard showed a pretty four bedroom home with an ‘eat in kitchen’ large enough for a family of six but without a pool.

“This is nice, but Mitchie and me, and the kids would really like a pool. We may want to take another look here, but for now, let’s keep looking.”  

Backtracking about sixteen miles, the Buick headed north to La Mesa; to a lovely Spanish style stucco covered house that had three bedrooms and a beautiful yard, with a pool, without rust and black algae spots.

“I like this, “Marsha said, “I really like this, but only three bedrooms? No, I think we’ll really be crowded with only three bedrooms.”

Still going as expected, “Okay,” Leonard said, “I’ve one more to show you today that’s not too far from here and I think you’ll really like this one!”

About a ten minute drive to El Cajon, the house was everything Marsha and Mitchell had hoped for.

The Spanish style beige stucco, red clay tile roof house had four bedrooms and a study/den with a huge kitchen/family room combination with built-ins that looked to be new. The wall to wall carpeting – that would go nicely with their furniture – also appeared to be new. The front and rear lawns were perfectly manicured with a crystalline clear 14 X 30 foot pool with –Mitchell sighing – a Jacuzzi. However…

Walking through the house a second time, mentally placing their furniture, “You’re right, Lennie! This house I like… love, in fact!” In the kitchen now, seeing herself in this lovely, sun-bright kitchen. “What’s it listed at?”

Well aware of the price; well aware of this house because it was listed through his office – also well aware that he’d get a bonus for selling an ‘in office’ listing. – Studying the listing sheet, “A hundred fifteen thousand,” Lennie said, quickly adding, “but…” Knowing the owners were pretty firm on their price, but also thinking that the Lipenskys would take a counter offer at near full price, or, most likely, at full price if presented to them. Lying, “…I think, maybe they’d take one-twelve.”

“I love this house!” Turning to her husband, “You like it, Mitch?”

“ ‘Do I like this place’? Yeah, of course I like it. It’s beautiful! I think it’s too much money. But it you like it…”

Pegging Marsha; rightfully pegging Marsha as the prime decision maker in their family, itching to write the deposit receipt, completely thrown back when she said…

“It’s  really much more than we want to spend, so why don’t you let Mitchell and me think about it tonight and we’ll get back to you tomorrow morning.”

“This is a really ‘hot’ property, Marsha, and it’s a good bet that it won’t be here tomorrow.”

Hearing the words real estate people hate hearing: “So, if it’s gone tomorrow, if we don’t get it, then it’s not meant to be that we have this house,” Marsha said, “so then we’ll keep looking.”

“Marsha, you’n’Mitch really like this place and It may not be here by tomorrow,” Lennie repeated. “If you’d like, we can make a ‘low ball’ offer and see where it goes from there.”

Becoming annoyed at his pushing, “You're right, Len, I really do like this house, but ours just hit the market today and I do not want to make this kind of a commitment until we, at least, hear what the other brokers think of our price.”

Wanting a sale under his belt today, but catching Marsha’s tone of voice, “Okay, that’s a good idea.” Looking at his information sheet, “I see you’re staying at The Shelter Inn on Shelter Island. Good choice, it’s really beautiful there and they’ve a great restaurant overlooking the ocean.”

“Hell, don’t all restaurants here overlook the ocean?”

“Not all, Mitch.”

“It’ll have to go pretty far to beat where you took us for lunch.”

In the Buick now, driving to Shelter Island, Marsha now in the front seat, “I’ll call you in the morning at… Give me some time to see what else may be available and I’ll call you in your room at, say, eleven.”

“Sounds good to me, Len.”

“As soon as we check in we’re going to call Alice, uh, our broker to see what happened at the house today.”

 Glancing to his right, “I’ll also check to see if that last house is still available.”

Cooling on both the house and Leonard, “Like the house, don’t like the price, so we’ll see about that.”

 ©September 28, 2011 / Mark M. Lichterman

Checking into the Shelter Inn, “You’re in room 422…” the desk manager said handing him two keys along with two 4X4 message slips. “…and you’ve two calls, Mister Lipensky.”

Taking the keys and the message slips…

One was an ‘urgent’ from Alice, the other an ‘urgent’ from Sophie Chen of Century 21, San Diego along with her phone number.