GAZUMPAHS!
Fletcher and Finch, Estate Agents, could be said to be ticking over, but the clock was running very
slowly. Business was bad; there could be no doubt on that score. They hadn’t sold a property for
weeks. To be fair, there was not that much on the market. To be an estate agent in the town of
Trentrow was a thankless task and this morning Albert Fletcher was beginning to think his idea of
starting a business here in the first place was a big mistake. The town had one big drawback. The
housing market had gone down rapidly – not that the place was not desirable – it was simply that no
one ever moved out or seemed to leave any empty properties for sale. The fact that the land
around the town was deemed an area of natural beauty meant that any application to build new
estates was knocked on the head by the town council who did not want their views of the soaring
countryside ruined by building applications for affordable homes. So there it was, no houses on the
market and nothing to sell!
His partner William Finch had died several years ago but the sign outside had not been changed. Too
much money to spend on altering or buying a new sign. So Fletcher and Finch it stayed. Albert
Fletcher sighed as he sat at his desk. Should he shut up shop? Did not seem like much point in
keeping open.
It was at that moment that his thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. He shouted to
come in and the head of receptionist Jenny Clarke popped around the door. Most of the day she
spent her time doing her nails which were a shade of red that made her look like she was dripping
blood. It had always irritated him, but this morning he simply smiled at her.
‘Yes?’
‘Mr Fletcher, there’s a man here to see you.’
‘What does he want?’
‘I think he wants you to sell his house for him.’
Fletcher’s chair almost fell backwards. ‘Well don’t just stand there ask him to come in.’
Jenny’s head rapidly disappeared and soon a large man came into the room. He was completely bald
and his clothes looked too tight for him. The tie he was wearing was pulled tight across his throat
which seemed to be affecting his Adam’s apple from properly being able to move. He was also
sweating profusely.
‘Mr Fletcher or Mr Finch,’ he began.
‘Fletcher. Mr Finch is no longer with us.’
‘Oh,’ the large man for a moment looked non-plussed. ‘Got a better position elsewhere I suppose.
Don’t blame him. Anyway I haven’t got a lot of time. Recently I came into an inheritance. My aunt
died and left me this house. Not wanting to live in it myself I thought I would sell it. A nice place I
suppose but this town is not for me. My business is in London and quite frankly this place is only for
people to retire to. It’s a detached house, good condition and gardens – all the mod cons. When can
you came and see it?’
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‘What about now?’ Fletcher replied already reaching for his coat. ‘We must strike while the iron is
hot.’
***************
The place was indeed charming, it probably needed a little work on it as parts of the guttering were
a bit weak and the roof needed a little work too but definitely worthy of putting in his window.
‘Modern des res, 4 bedrooms and gardens front and back. Views of the countryside.’
He wandered around the place and put it at easily £200,000. That would be easy to get. He talked
with the man for a while and found out that he was the only relation of the woman who had died.
He had lived in London for a number of years and was in no hurry to leave the area. This property
had dragged on for a while as the solicitors had been trying to find out the chain of bequests that the
old lady had left but all the legatees had died so it had come to Norman Bennett, the large man
standing beside him.
A percentage for selling was agreed at and soon Fletcher was taking photographs of the building
from all angles to put in his window. Things were definitely looking up. He could make quite a bit
from selling this place.
Having placed the property in his window he did not have to wait long until someone came in to the
shop.
A young man aged about thirty who looked like a businessman came in and asked about the
property. Could he see it at once? Fletcher asked if he wanted an accompanied visit but the man
wanted to look around on his own.
He had only just left when a woman came in to the shop and asked about the property. Fletcher said
that there was some interest in it but he could arrange a viewing for maybe this afternoon. The
woman, a pretty girl of about mid to late twenties agreed.
In fact during that day he had five people who came in to ask about the house. This would certainly
not be on the market long.
The following day he had a phone call - it was from the woman who had viewed the house yesterday
afternoon. She was interested and was willing to give the asking price of £200,000.
Fletcher said that he would contact the owner at once but no sooner had he put the phone down
than it rang again. The young man who had first looked at the house.
He also said that he wanted the place and was willing to give the asking price. Fletcher said with a
sigh that he had already had an offer for the place at the price quoted but the young man
immediately said that he would pay £205,000.
As Fletcher put the phone down he was thinking. If he could get more for the property then his
commission would be more. That was the deal he had agreed with the owner. Yes it was not ethical
and he had in the past criticised heavily any agent who ‘gazumped’ clients by playing them off
against each other but – well he was tempted. He contacted the owner who said that he was happy
with the £205,000.
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When the woman phoned up again Fletcher said that the first person who viewed the place had
offered five thousand more.
She was angry saying that she had said she would have the place at the price offered but Fletcher
simply said that the young man had been first – a lie as though the man had viewed the property
first the woman had put in the firm offer.
Well Fletcher said to himself. This is going fine, but he was interrupted by a phone call from the
woman again. She had upped her offer to £210,000.
Should he contact the owner again and tell him this? No, a gleam came to Fletcher’s eyes. How
much could he get for the place? No need to contact the owner again just let the bidders keep on
and his commission would rise accordingly.
He picked up the phone and called the young man who had left his phone number anyway. The
result was that the offer went up again to £215,000.
Over the next few days the couple kept on bidding against each other. Until the fourth day when he
had another visitor from one of the people who lad latterly visited the house.
This was an elderly man who said that the wanted to retire here to be close to the countryside. He
had grown up in this town and wanted to spend his last days here. He offered £240,000 for the place
as he had liked it and what was more he had the money there was no chain or waiting to get a
mortgage.
Fletcher rubbed his hands. This was more like it. He contacted the other couple again and told them
the place was sold for £240,000 but the young man once again increased his offer and so too did the
woman soon after. By the end of the day the price had risen to £300,000.
At this point he really needed to see the owner and tell him so they could close the deal but the
price went on increasing and although his conscience troubled him a little Fletcher was sure he was
doing the right thing by playing the people off against each other. He would leave it until the end of
the week and then take the highest offer.
At the end of the week the price of the property was £400,000. It had doubled. The last offer had
been from the old gentleman and he seemed to be the right one as far as Fletcher was concerned.
He phoned him and told the man that the property was his for that price. As he put the phone down
however the young man came into the office and wanted to know what was going on.
‘I’m really sorry but the property has gone,’ Fletcher gave a shrug.
‘I put in a bid for that place and you have been gazumping me,’ the man blustered.
He was about to start an argument when the young woman came into the shop also looking
annoyed.
Jenny the receptionist looked at the situation and then went back to doing her blood red nails. She
was looking forward to an argument no doubt thought Fletcher but the two had stopped speaking
and were staring at one another.
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‘Susan?’ the young man said with his brow furrowing. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘Come to that Barry what are you doing here. You are supposed to be in Cardiff?’
‘I was trying to get this house. I knew that you wanted to live in this area so much as you were
brought up here.’
‘I tried to get this house for us as I thought you wanted live here. Not me.’
They looked for a while and then broke out in laughter. ‘Tell your buyer he can have it,’ the man said
and put his arm around the girl. ‘We’ve been at cross purposes. I didn’t want to live her. Not my sort
of place at all but I thought that Susan wanted to so I tried to get this house for her.’
‘And I tried to get it for you – I don’t like this place at all. I wasn’t happy here as a child. Nothing here
but old folk anyway.’
The man turned to Fletcher. ‘Well I’m glad that neither of us bought the place – good luck to the one
who has.’
They both left the shop arm in arm. Fletcher smiled. So everything worked out well. The old
gentleman had bought the place for a good price. He was well satisfied.
********************
Later that same day Fletcher had another visitor. A tall man who introduced himself as Detective
Inspector Ross. Fletcher was asked if he had seen this man. The photograph was of the elderly
gentleman who had bought the house. At once he had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.
What was going on?
‘This is a man called Henry Calver. He’s harmless really but he has a habit of coming in to places and
offering large sums for cars and properties. Of course he looks like he’s a wealthy businessman but
he’s not. He’s from the Canberry Institution in Marlow nearby, he escaped a few days ago and we’ve
been trying to track him down. We had a tip off that he had been seen in this area.’
‘What’s wrong with him?’
‘Well, as I said he’s not violent or anything and will pose no threat to any person but he has
something against properties or cars. He says he will buy then and then . . .’
‘Yes?’
‘He sets fire to them. An arsonist. He’s burnt three houses to the ground and three cars have been
doused in petrol and found burnt out. So have you seen him Sir?’
Fletcher remembered that he had given the elderly gentleman the keys to have another look around
the place. He was thinking this when he heard the sound of a fire engine going past his shop
followed almost immediately by another.
THE END
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