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The house, although picturesque, was far from 'inviting;' even in the bright sunlight, its appearance seemed dark, lonely, and forbidding. Isabel and Hank pulled their vehicles up as close to the front entrance as they could. For lack of anything else, the county people had used bright yellow 'crime scene' tape to cordon off the front porch despite the fact that Ollie's death was a result of natural causes (a heart attack). The front door had been crudely secured with a length of zinc galvanized chain and a huge tempered steel padlock.
As Micah fumbled for the key he commented that "if someone really wanted to get into the house, all they would need to do is bypass the front door and break a window."
When the door was finally opened, Micah and Isabel were quick to comment on it's "musty odor," but my keen nose was
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easily able to identify the stench of rotted food, soiled laundry, mildew, and some remaining traces of human decomposition; ugh, if only I could talk, they would have walked out and called in a fumigator right then and there! Isabel observed that the inside of the house still looked like most houses did back in the 1950s. That's way before my time, so all I could do is take it all in, and believe it to be so.
Empty coffee containers, soft drink bottles, and spent cigarette butts were scattered about on the floor; but, to me, the house seemed to be as undisturbed as it might have been after a bar fight. It was a mess! Ollie, frankly, had lived like a slob.
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