Member-only story
Fiction
Crawlspace
Crime Fiction by By John Bukowski
Colleen donned her brightest smile, adding a little extra dimple. “Just let me grab my gear and I’ll check it out for you darlin.”
The petite thirty-year-old wore coveralls that hugged her trim figure like a second skin. Her silky blond hair was scrunched into a ponytail. As always, she’d applied just enough makeup to emphasize her full lips and high cheek bones, yet not enough to look out of place on a working gal who scrambled under houses for a living. And what a living it was.
She’d hooked up with Roy five years ago. Theirs was a match made in heaven. Colleen liked money and Roy knew how to make it. Her husband had turned a mediocre contractor business into The Crawl-Space Doctor, a thriving concern worth millions. He did it with charm, expertise, plenty of pseudo-technical jargon, and a touch of larceny. He’d taught his secret of high-pressure salesmanship to Colleen, who took to it like white on rice, adding a new and very profitable dimension to the business.
They plied their trade in the Smokies, where people retired to escape the hustle of Atlanta, Nashville, or Detroit. It took money to have a mountain view, which spelled dollar signs for Roy and Colleen. While her handsome husband charmed the ladies, Colleen took on the old coots. She’d watch them leer at her as she…
