THE SALESMAN

“No young man, I never buy anything at the door! My Bill always used to say to me, 'Nellie, never trust any of these people. They're all con men, every damned one of them.'”
Harry gritted his teeth, but only mentally.
He beamed his most winning smile.
“But Nellie, I'm sure if you just took a little time....”
The old woman's withered features suffused with rage. “Are you stupid, young man? How many times do I have to tell you? I'm not interested in what you're bloody selling!"
Harry could feel his mask slipping. It had been a bad day, a bad month, fuck it, a bad year. The bills were piling up, the mortgage was due, and the car was on its last legs. It cracked all the way!
The old woman spluttered to a halt, her eyes widening as she saw the changing expression on Harry's face. His teeth were bared in a carnivorous snarl; his eyes were holes in his head, radiating such venom that she instinctively raised her arms to protect herself and backed away from him. Harry, realising how close he had come to losing it, forced his features under control and took an apologetic half-step forward into the hall.
“ I'm sor..” He began.
Nellie, seeing him move towards her, accelerated her retreat down the hallway and into the sanctuary of her living room.
When she crossed the threshold, Nellie grabbed at the living room door, slammed it shut and braced herself against it. Her hands were trembling where she held them against the door and she could feel her heart pounding furiously. Almost as if it was responding to her recognition of it, the thundering in her chest reached a crescendo and a sharp biting pain tore through her....

Harry, standing uncertainly on the other side of the door, heard a muffled gasp followed by a slithering and soft thud.
“Nellie....” He ventured. Then again, “ Nellie! ” Harry pushed at the living room door, and found that it opened a little way, and then jammed. He pushed a touch harder. The door opened a crack more, but was still under some resistance. There was now room enough for him to edge his head around the door and to see what was causing the blockage.
The old woman was sprawled on the floor.
“Shit!” Breathed Harry. “The silly old bastard's had a heart attack.”
Harry put more of his weight behind the door and forced it fully open. He knelt beside Nellie and felt for a pulse. “Deader than a dodo,” he said to himself.

Harry looked around for a telephone. There didn't seem to be one in the room he was in. Walking back through the hallway, he took the first door on the left. He found himself in the dining room. On the table was a half-completed shopping list and thirty pounds cash. Next to these was a green shoe box with the lid half-open. Harry couldn't believe his eyes! It was stuffed full of money. With trembling hands he counted it. “Jesus, there's over twenty thousand pounds here.” His mind raced. This was it! The big one.
Harry reviewed his actions since entering the house. The only thing he had touched, apart from the money, was the panel of the living room door. He was fairly sure that no one had even seen him talking to the old woman. Besides, for this amount of cash he was willing to take the risk. Scooping up the shoebox, but leaving every thing else as it was, he went back into the hall and wiped down the door panel with his handkerchief. Then - checking that the coast was clear - he left the house.

Harry drove straight home and spent an anxious evening waiting for the knock on the door that would presage discovery, none came.
By the next morning Harry had recovered his usual arrogance and had decided on his next move. The more he thought about his great idea, the more pleased with himself he became. He would give it a couple of days, drive into the old ladies' area, and pick up a few of the local papers. If anyone had noticed her passing, there would be bound to be a mention of it in the freebie papers..........
Back at his flat he eagerly scanned the free local rags. Aha! There it was! It seemed that a Mrs. Eleanor Gibbons had been found dead in her home.
The coroner had confirmed that she had died of a heart attack, there were no suspicious circumstances. Harry was elated. There was no mention of any money being missing. Twenty thousand pounds free and clear!
Harry had found his calling.....

Harry gazed out over the rolling farmland. He hadn't passed another car for at least twenty minutes. He drifted back into his reverie.

' After his first nerve wracking, but profitable entry into the world of criminality, Harry had refined his techniques. Every now and again on his sales rounds he would come across some dithering old biddy desperate for someone to talk to. During the conversation, Harry would deftly steer the topic around to the information that interested him. Did she have any relatives, any friends who visited regularly; and what was the state of her health? Anyone who answered negatively to the first two, and poor to the third of these queries was immediately put on the possible victims list.
The fulfilling of further criteria introduced at this point ensured promotion to the certain list.
The isolation of the dwelling and the absence of incidental observers were also high scorers in this regard.
When all these conditions had been met, Harry would move on to phase two.
The first part of this was easy! He just did nothing, except his job for at least six months!
He lost a few potential victims that way through natural causes, but he would rather be safe than sorry.
When he considered enough time had elapsed, he would make sure that his sales round for that day was in a completely different area from his target and after providing himself with an alibi - by means of some sales and a local hotel booking - he would make his way by public transport to the chosen area ..........

Harry snapped back into the present! A full grown stag had just leapt across the road in front of him, jolting him out of his daydream and causing him to slam his foot violently down on the brake pedal. His breath hissed from him in a release of tension as the animal disappeared into the trees on the right hand side of the road. He wondered if it was some kind of omen.
He was breaking with tradition....This was the first time he had ever done two of them on the same day!

The one he had done that morning had been poor pickings.
A genteel old dear in her seventies, the trappings that had surrounded her had given an impression of wealth, which had turned out to be completely unfounded. It was obvious that at some time in her past she had lived the high life but by the time she crossed Harry's path all that was left was an illusion of former glories. Harry was pissed off. Ten minutes into the search of the old bitch's house he had realised that there was nothing of value for him to take. He hadn't even got his usual kick out of it! He'd lost the buzz. Maybe that's why he was taking chances by doing two so close together. Trying to recapture some of the excitement of the early days.
Still there was nothing to be gained by crying over spilt milk and he was sure that the second visit of the day would be much more profitable............
It had been about a year since Harry had marked this ones card, she'd been lucky on that occasion.

“Come in dear! Have a cup of tea. You do like tea I hope? I'm afraid I can't offer you any coffee I've not been to well lately and I haven't been able to get into town.
Oh it's so nice to have a visitor, you don't get many people up this way you know.”
Harry surveyed the hallway area. The fixtures and fittings were old; but oozed quality.
“Don't mind if I do, that's very kind of you. It's a long drive up here. How do you cope with the isolation?”
The old lady beckoned Harry through to the kitchen. “Oh I'm used to it by now,” she said. “Besides, I can usually find something to do to occupy myself”. Harry smiled sympathetically. “Don't see much of your family then”? He inquired.
“Oh no!” Said the old woman. “The good Lord saw fit to let me out live all of them! Most of my friends too”. The old girl chuckled to herself. “The two who are still alive are still in India. I used to live there myself you know. My father was something of a big wig in the government”.
Harry looked round the room. It was a lot bigger than he expected. Attached to one wall was a wide trough. Joined to one end was a large wheel the purpose of which, Harry could only guess at. The old woman poured Harry's tea and said cheerily “Do sit down. Help yourself to milk and sugar, it's on the table if you want it”.
While Harry was sugaring his tea the woman was scraping some leftovers into the trough on the wall. When she had completed this she went over and turned the wheel, whereupon the trough rocked through the wall.
Harry was about to take his first sip when his ears were assailed by a horrendous screeching noise.
“What in God's Name was that!”

Startled Harry jerked backwards, spilling his tea over his shirt front, discovering in the process that the chair he was sitting on possessed a set of extremely well oiled wheels, which carried him smoothly away from the table to rap the back of his head sharply against the wall.
“Jesus!” He grunted rubbing his head and looking towards the woman. Just for a fleeting moment, he thought he'd detected a glint of amusement in her eyes, but the look was gone as quickly as it had appeared.
Full of concern she approached him now.
“Oh dear I am sorry.... I have to have these chairs easy to move. You see I'm not as young as I used to be...”
Once again, he thought he could see the hint of an expression cross her face. This time he identified it as annoyance, caused he supposed, by the spilt tea, because she was looking at his cup.
A warm sensation began spreading through his groin. Harry stood up in bewilderment. Then he realised the chair he was sitting on was covered in some sort of plastic material and the tea he had spilled was sitting in a puddle underneath his buttocks. He was furious!
Masking his anger, he apologised to the woman. ”I'm sorry..” he began.
“Oh don't you fret yourself,” said the old woman. “It was my fault. I should have told you about the girls, they can make a bit of a racket when they're hungry. Well pigs do you know.” Then noticing the stain on Harry's clothes. “Don't worry about the chair! I have them covered, it makes them much easier to clean. That doesn't do much for your trousers though! Why don't you take them of and let me dry them for you?”
Harry seriously considered taking this silly old duffer out right now but just as he had almost made up his mind, a cheery voice called. “Mrs. Bartley… Mrs. Bartley.”
“Oh hello Jim! What are you doing up here today?
OH ! I must say this is unusual, two visitors in one day. What have you got for me?”
“Looks like another one of your commissions has turned up.”
The old girl said “Would you like a cup of tea Jim?”
“No thanks Violet I'm already running late today. So I'd best get a shift on.”

Harry, who had backed away from the window in order to ensure the he was not seen, decided that luck wasn't with him today and it would be best to leave this one till a later date.
Waiting until he heard the postman's van recede into the distance, he made his excuses and left, promising to return if he found any bric-a-brac that might be to Violet's liking . . . .
Harry grinned as he turned into the approach road of the farm.
“Payback time lady” He muttered to himself.

Harry wasn't too keen on using his own vehicle when out on a job, but in this case the area was so inaccessible, he had no choice but to use his own transport. Fortunately, the road leading to the farm was composed of large flagstones, which would leave no sign of the car's passage and he could park it out of sight behind the building when he arrived at his destination....

Walking up to the farmhouse, he knocked and when the door opened donned his most disarming smile.
“Hello again Ms Bartley. I happened to be in the area and I have some items that you may find of interest.”
“Oh Hello young man what a pleasant surprise! How nice to see you.
Perhaps we can manage to let you have that cup of tea without damaging your clothes this time Eh ?”
“Let me get my case” said Harry.
“Oh never mind that for now.” She interrupted.
“Let's have that tea and a chat first! Then you can show me what you have.”

This time upon entering the house, instead of leading Harry to the right into the kitchen, she turned left and guided him through to a spacious front room. The walls were covered in display cabinets containing a myriad of objects, some of which were worth a pretty penny unless Harry missed his guess.
He perked up right away. This was more like it!
“Do make yourself at home. I'll bring your tea through in a moment.”
The old lady waved vaguely at one of the chairs and then disappeared in the direction of the kitchen.

Harry sat down in the chair and surveyed the room.
He was getting happier by the minute; some of this stuff must be worth a small fortune.
There were beautifully carved figurines in abundance.
The kind of thing private collectors paid a Kings ransom for; some of them were even inlaid in what looked like gold.
“Here's your tea.” said the old lady.
“I thought it best if you had it in here this time. We don't want you being caught by surprise twice do we?"
Harry nodded in agreement as he took the proffered tea and commented,
“You have a lovely collection here. I might be interested in buying something - If any of it's for sale that is?"
“Oh I suppose some of it may be of some value,” she said, “but quite a few of them are my own work. I still dabble a bit. Every now and then I get the odd piece of work in, commemorative plaques, special awards, that sort of thing..... "

Listening to her droning on, Harry stifled a yawn as a sudden wave of tiredness washed over him. “I'll just finish this tea,” he thought, “and then see what I can do about shutting her up....."

Harry woke to find himself in the same chair, but not in the same room! His head was spinning and his mouth felt as if he'd been on a three-day bender.
He tried to stand up and found to his astonishment that he could not! His arms had been strapped down from elbow to wrist and when he attempted to move his legs, he found that they were also constrained from knee to ankle.
He tried to call out, but found what emerged from his dry throat was an almost inaudible croak, which anyone over three feet away would have had difficulty in hearing.
The whirling feeling in his head suddenly increased in intensity so, rather than exerting himself futilely, Harry resigned himself to waiting for a better opportunity of escape to present itself.
“Oh hello dear. Nice to see you're awake. I do hope you're not too uncomfortable. My little sedatives do have some unfortunate side-effects.”
“Unfortunate side-effects,” croaked Harry.
“What the fuck!
Just what do you think you're fucking playing at?”
Harry had tried to roar but his attempted vocal intimidation had come out somewhere between a gasp and a whisper.
“Oh my! We are a little tetchy – Aren't we?
Well the first thing we have to learn is that the guests in my house have to display at least the rudiments of civilised behaviour! On this count, I'm afraid you're rather letting the side down.”

Harry could not believe his own ears! This silly old bastard had knocked him out and strapped him to a chair and now was having the cheek to berate him over the quality of his manners.
“Just great!” He thought, “I've been captured by a nutter, whose only method of forcing people to talk to her, is to knock them out and tie them to a sodding chair.”
“Fuck off! You old bitch!” He rasped.
“Well that just won't do! Will it?”
Saying this, she picked up a pair of pliers, which were lying on the side and grabbed Harry's nose viciously between them.
“If you can't moderate your language, I'm afraid you will have to suffer the consequences.” She said sharply.
Still holding his nose, she took a handkerchief from her apron and stuffed it in his mouth.
Pinching the pliers a little tighter, she said.
“Now don't you even think of trying to spit that out!”
Releasing him and waving the pliers warningly, she crossed to the kitchen drawer and removed a wide roll of insulating tape. Tearing off a piece, she used it to secure the handkerchief in place.
“There now! Perhaps that will teach you to be a little less obstreperous.”
Harry couldn't believe what was happening not only did his head still feel as if it was full of little men tapping the inside of his skull with tiny hammers, but he had now a monstrous throbbing in his nose to keep it company.
Suddenly he heard the sound of an engine coming closer and cursed his earlier outburst. Maybe if he had kept his temper, he would have had the chance of attracting some attention now.
He started throwing himself back and forwards in the chair in an effort to create some noise.
“Oh dear! You are a feisty one aren't you?”
With this, the old girl wheeled Harry across the kitchen and through an opening in the back wall.

Now he found himself in a long narrow room, which at one time had obviously been some kind of storage cupboard.
Pushing the chair towards the rear wall, the old lady spun Harry around so his back was against it.
A loop of wire was attached to the wall just above head height, this she placed around his neck. Turning some sort of pulley device, she tightened it until it bit into Harry's neck.
“This is 12 gauge piano wire.” She informed him.
“And if you struggle too much. . . Well the consequences - are rather obvious."
Harry watched her turn and leave the room.
When she closed the door, he was plunged into complete darkness. Straining his ears to the utmost, all he could discern was the sound of his own breath rasping through his nostrils.
He was even sure he could hear the pounding of his own heart. It was as if he had been transported to a no-place, where nothing existed except himself. He tried to move his head but the wire dug inexorably into his throat, releasing a warm trickle of liquid, which ran down his chest.
This sensation shocked Harry into stillness as the thought leapt into his head that he was actually feeling his life draining away....

He had no idea how long he had been left there, it seemed like days – He must have even dozed off a couple of times, because at some point his gag had been removed but he had no idea when. Then the door opened.
Harry winced as the light lanced into his eyes and screwed them shut. Even through his eyelids the light hurt unbearably. He struggled against the onset of despair. “Hang on in there!” he told himself. “Your chance will come. Your chance will come!”

Harry was wheeled back in to the kitchen and put back at the end of the trough. When his vision recovered he realised that it was dark outside, so he had been there for a couple hours at the very least.
He tried to think who would be the first to notice his absence and received a mental jolt when it dawned on him that his self chosen solitary existence had left him so virtually friendless, that the only people who would be aware were his work colleagues and, even they wouldn't notice for at least a week.
“Oh Dear! We have been silly haven't we!” said Violet.
Taking some iodine from one of the cupboards, she swabbed the thin red line round Harry's throat.
The sting from the fluid seemed to revitalise him and pull him out of the pit of despair into which he had been sinking.
“Here drink this!” she said, proffering a cup filled with tea towards his lips.
At first Harry was going to turn his head away from the drink but then he realised that considering the position he was in, doing what he was told was probably his best option.
As soon as he took his first sip, he realised that he was in fact, possessed of a raging thirst, which with everything else going on he hadn't even noticed. He leaned forward greedily slurping at the liquid.
“There now, doesn't that feel better?” said the old woman.
Harry nodded, but remained silent.
“Ah it's so nice to have some company. Sometimes it can be quite lonely out here on your own. It is nice to have someone to chat to.
Though I must admit, I do find the manners of today's young people sadly lacking in some respects.” She shook her head gravely.
“That little outburst you had earlier for instance just would not have happened in my day you know. Unthinkable.”
“You'll never get away with this.” Croaked Harry. “Someone will notice when I don't return and come looking for me. How long do you intend to keep me here anyway?”
“Oh the time my guests spend here varies.” Replied the old woman. “It all depends on my work commitments.” This she seemed to find highly amusing and Harry looked on in astonishment as she bent over almost double chortling gleefully. “Nuts!” he thought. “Completely nuts!”
“What about my car? It'll be noticed.”
“Oh that wont be too much of a problem dear and it was very kind of you to tuck it round the back out of sight.” she replied.
“This area used to be a peat producing country and there is still one major bog at the end of the lane.
The Devils Gateway the locals call it.
Quite a few hikers have gone missing round here and the general belief is that the bog has claimed them.
There are warning signs, but not every one takes notice of them. They don't even drag for bodies now…. They've never managed to recover anyone who has fallen in there. Bottomless they say.”
Harry digested this information.
Maybe he was in a worse situation than he had first thought. From what he had just heard, it didn't sound as if he was going to be released at all. He also realised that he obviously was not the first victim of the old woman's charade… In which case, what had become of the others…?
“I'm not the first guest you've had here am I?” He said carefully.
“Where are the others?”

The old lady looked at him with her eyes twinkling merrily.
“Oh they've all moved on. All over the world some of them… Yes they have definitely moved on to finer things.
Well this won't do I'd better get on.” Saying this she opened a drawer and laid out some equipment on the sink top.
Harry only recognised two or three of the items. There was also a small kiln or furnace, which looked like it could be used to bake or melt small objects.
Humming to herself the woman opened one of the cupboards and took out a plaque, which she then placed on the worktop. It was a round wooden plate that had an intricately carved likeness of the Egyptian Pharaoh Tutenkamun, ivory embellished with gold inlays.
She seated herself at the worktop and began working on the piece.
“I learned this art during our time in India,” she said. “Of course it was easier to acquire the ivory then, it wasn't banned in those days. It's hard to come by now.”
She made an exasperated noise and then came over to where Harry sat and peered intently at his right hand.
Reaching down she tried to pull his ring off of his middle finger. Harry tried to clench his hand into a fist. The woman picked up the pliers she had used earlier and rapped him sharply on the knuckles. When his fingers had unclenched she grasped the tip of his middle finger between the pliers and with her other hand reached down, picked up what looked like a pair of garden secateurs and snipped through the digit just below the ring.
Harry gasped in shock and sat there stunned as she turned on the tap and washed the blood from his hand down in to the trough, then she crossed to the tiny kiln and removing a shaft of metal which had been heating there, cauterised his damaged limb.
“You fucking lunatic!” screamed Harry in a mixture of pain and rage.
Thrashing frenziedly from side to side he tried desperately to escape his bonds.
The old lady watched his efforts for a while then said.
“Oh well, while I'm about it. Grasping Harry's top lip with the pliers she twisted them viciously. Harry howled in agony. With another pair of pliers, which had somehow appeared in her other hand, she reached inside his mouth and broke loose the gold crown that adorned one of his back teeth.
Harry sat sobbing in the chair desperately trying to make sense of what was happening' he had descended into a state of abject terror and his thoughts whirled chaotically as he searched for a means of escape.
“I've told you dear,” she said. “I won't tolerate that sort of language.”
Turning away from him she placed the ring and gold crown into a small receptacle, this she then placed in the small kiln.
After some time the metal began to shimmer then melt and when the old lady was satisfied she poured the molten liquid into another container and put it on the side to set.
Nodding in satisfaction she went over to the sink and picked up Harry's severed finger.
He watched in horror as she scraped the flesh from the bone into the trough where it mixed with the vegetable scraps lying there.
Outside, the pigs made their presence known, by a combination of grunts and squealing noises as if they sensed a treat coming up.
“More soon my beauties. More soon.” Crooned the old lady.
Harry sat there in a fog of pain staring at his own severed finger bone as he tried to grasp the reality of his situation. Then he noticed the Egyptian plaque and the part of the dish that had been carved out to make space for a sceptre or staff of some kind… Not ivory… Not ivory at all…
The woman busied herself at the stove, making a cup of tea and removing a small bottle from her pocket she added a few drops of liquid to the beverage.
Harry whimpered as she approached him.
“I don't suppose you're feeling too well at the moment,” she said. “Well have a drop of this. It will help you sleep.” Seeing the reluctant look on Harry's face she continued… ”I do hope we are not going to make a fuss?"
Harry did as he was bid and drank the hot liquid; it took effect almost at once. Harry seemed to be occupying a slightly altered version of reality. Everything was slightly out of focus and he was vaguely aware of being pushed across the kitchen, the sounds he heard seemed oh so far away.
He thought he heard the woman's voice say “Sleep now dear. We have a brand new project to work on tomorrow and I just know you're going to be perfect for the part.”
Harry had a nagging suspicion that that this should bother him, but for the life of him couldn't remember why. As his eyes passed over the table they were drawn to a letter lying there. The letter swam in and out of focus and he could make out part of the text…
Dear Mrs Bartley would it be possible for you to create a plaque based on the enclosed design, to be completed by – 12^th Dec. The recipient's name should read…