Chapter 4My Vacant House Was Occupied – By Strangers

Early the next morning, I timed it perfectly for when Gloria Pittman went out to collect trash, and I stormed into Maplewood Heights with a group of guys at my back.

Her son, Randy Pittman, tried to block our way, but the moment he saw the crew of big, burly men behind me, his bravado fizzled out, and he meekly followed us to the door.

When we reached the house, I directed my crew, “Break the door open!”

As soon as the door swung open, the stench from the day before came rushing out, making us all recoil. What lay before us was an unbelievable sight—mountains of garbage piled high: empty cans, cardboard, foam boxes, and unwashed food containers.

What I had seen the day before was just the tip of the iceberg.

“Ugh…” I gagged, pinching my nose. “Clear all this out. Every last bit.”

I paused for a second and added, “Careful though, stack it neatly by the dumpsters.”

I had hired a professional crew, and they didn’t flinch in the face of the overwhelming stench. With gloves on, they got to work efficiently.

Meanwhile, Travis Pittman, the security guard, was in the background, making a hushed phone call to alert Gloria. I pretended not to notice.

By the time Gloria arrived, lugging her sack of trash, half of her beloved garbage fortress had already been cleared.

“Put that down! You thieves! Put it all back!”

The fragile, tearful Gloria from the day before was now leaping three feet in the air, screeching as she tried to attack the men moving her precious junk.

But before she could land a blow, one of the guys easily grabbed her by the collar, lifted her off the ground, and calmly set her down in the corner of the room.

The once brazen woman fell silent, eyes wide as she took in the sight of the strong man’s bulging biceps.

Then she spotted me, and the rage returned. She screamed, “You again! I’ll claw your eyes out this time!”

She lunged at me, her sharp nails reaching for my face, but once again, she was lifted by the collar and placed aside by my crew.

I casually lit a cigarette and called out, “Keep going. Clean the house out. I want the locks changed.”

Helpless, Gloria could only scream at her son, Randy, “Call your uncle! Get Mitchell here right now!”

My interest was piqued. I decided to let them make the call. I was curious to finally meet the so-called property manager who handed over my house to them.