Sam Pratt approached the Jefferson's front door, he sighed with relief. There was no "no solicitors" sign that seemed to be plaguing the neighborhood. He opened the screen door and a quick rap. No one answered. He looked down towards his feet and noticed a small stain on his tie. He sucked in his gut and buttoned his jacket, tucking in the tie. He tried looking in through the window, just his luck, the one house he could sell to and no one was home. He should have listened to his predecessor, Mr. Hayes, the neighborhood was lousy, a brownie couldn't sell cookies around here. Frustrated he returned to his car and threw his samples on the passenger seat. He thought he heard a noise coming from the inside the house but dismissed it and went on. A new neighborhood he thought to himself.
Inside, Mr. Hayes continued to pour ice over Mrs.
Jefferson's body resting in the bath tub. Keeping his gloves on, he left just as he had come in, carefully super gluing the "no solicitors" sign beside the door as he left.