Flea Pit Flip: A Dose of Reality, #1

By Sydney Hunter

A dream flip turned on its head, a body insulated than most homes, and the bomb squad on speed dial? Could this flip be a stone dead flop?

 

Henry thought he'd hit the jackpot with his fixer-upper, but that was before he uncovered a body hidden in one wall. There wasn't a chance the guy had gone gentle into that good night. Kicking and screaming and without teeth and fingerprints was Henry's summation.

 

The other thing he'd unearthed on reporting his grisly find was a decades -old vendetta. One that saw him at odds with Police Chief Stan Baker, the guy heading up the investigation, and the jerk determined to charge Henry with the murder. But why? Because this went way past high school bullying.

 

Lucky for Henry, he wasn't alone in trying to clear his name, with Jed his offsider, lawyer Belinda Wanamaker, and decrepit private investigator Ervine Wallace along for the ride.

 

Was the place going to be a flip or flop? Or would it prove to be the goldmine Henry always knew it to be?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Squabbling Sparrows Press
• Release date: Mar 23, 2024
• ISBN: 9798223763512

Book preview

1

Henry unlocked the battered front door of the decrepit fixer-upper he'd recently taken possession of, still unable to believe his luck. It had been a steal even at Winslow, Colorado prices, with Mirabelle Schneider practically giving it to him.

After a lot of jiggling, the tumblers on the lock finally played ball, allowing Henry to turn the key. Given what a pain in the ass this proved to be, he mentally added a new lock for the front door to his ever-growing list.

The broken-down shed out back already sported new hardware, the old padlock having been as ramshackle as the small building. Someone could have opened it with a bobby pin, which wasn't a risk Henry wanted to take.

He was still thinking about the shed when he stepped inside the house, a stench the likes of which he'd never experienced stopping him dead in his tracks.

A hand clamped over mouth and nose, he strode into the parlor and over to the sash window that fronted the house. His attention, momentarily taken by some new drywall, and he was desperate to open the window. Henry gave it his all, with the sash flying up and the glass smashing in response. Crap, those things were expensive to fix.

With the remaining glass tinkling ominously overhead, he didn't stick around. A second later and he was outside, spewing his guts into what passed for a garden. Never mind one dead pet, there must be hundreds of the little suckers in there.

Much as he wanted to stay out in the fresh air, time was tight with this flip. This saw him back inside with every door and window in the place soon wide open, not that it helped much. Out in the hallway, he took a tentative sniff, hoping to pin down a direction.

Where are you, ya little bastard?

The stench was strongest in what would become the kitchen. The room currently serving as a bedroom, as shown by a filthy mattress on the floor in one corner and a rickety closet in another.

Opening the door of the closet, he expected to find a small, furry carcass staring back at him. Nothing! Unless Fluffy took his last breaths underneath it?

His arms tight around the mahogany beast, Henry tipped it over, with it smashing to the floor and into pieces he could chuck into the dumpster. Not a dead pet in sight. The only thing he'd uncovered was a nasty dark stain on the wall.

Sheesh, what died in the place? Jed, Henry's offsider, sounded nasal, his nostrils stretched wide with industrial earplugs.

Not sure, but I think this is the spot. Henry nodded at the discolored wallpaper, not wanting to go near it with anything less than a sledgehammer or a flame-thrower.

They were out front arming themselves for demo when they noticed a late model truck with blacked-out windows roaring up the street. There was no missing it thanks to all the chrome and a light bar indicative of a small dick. Any feminist faced with a 'brodozer' like this would take their pussy hat off and shove it down the driver's throat, given half a chance.

The driver then confirmed exactly what an asshat they were by mounting the curb and skidding to a stop in the middle of the front yard. It was a good thing the sod was as crap as the rest of the house, or else Henry would have been ready to blow.

When he saw the size of the guy who got out, Henry revised this. Even he wouldn't approach him by choice. He was massive. Tall and broad, the tattoos that ringed his neck and covered his arms told of lots of spare time. Most of it likely spent behind bars if the spelling mistakes were any indicator.

Can I… Henry cleared his throat. Can I help you?

I'm looking for Henry Dalton? The guy looked first at Henry, and then Jed, before returning to Henry.

That would be me. Henry's grip on his sledgehammer tightened. Not that he planned on using it, unless the man mountain gave him no choice.

I'm here to buy the place.