The policeman examined the door and knew the homeowner had lied. He told him that someone broke the glass from the outside to get into the house. If that were the case, the broken glass would have been inside the house, not on the ground outside. He’s hiding something. But what?
Written for this week’s Twittering Tales prompt from Kat Myrman. Photo credit: email@example.com.
I lied. “Yes, I have repaired, resurfaced, and painted probably dozens of wrought iron fences like these.”
The estate’s property manager tilted his head down so he could see me clearly over his reading glasses. Then he glanced down at the written proposal I had given to him.
I needed the work. I’d been doing odd jobs ever since I got discharged from the army sixteen month earlier and some of them included repairing and painting fences. Wood fences. So it was just a little white lie.
“Check my references,” I said. All the names on the list were my army buddies who were willing to vouch for me even though I’d never done any handyman work for any of them.
“Fine,” he said. “If your references check out, you can start the day after tomorrow.”
It took me almost two weeks to complete the work, and the property manager told me that I had far exceeded his expectations. Then he told me the owner called my work “a masterpiece.”
Written for this week’s FFfAW challenge from Priceless Joy.