It was Sunday morning at 10:00am and we were still fast asleep when the doorbell rang. TPR grabbed his dressing gown and made a dash down the hallway to see who was calling. I followed him.
Our caller was a door-to-door salesman offering cleaning products. His sales technique was somewhat threatening. He wore a full face mask and carried a rifle. When TPR told him that we weren’t interested in his wares, the salesman pointed his gun at one of our hanging baskets, took aim, and pulled the trigger. He laughed excitedly as the floral display crashed to the ground, then scampered up the steps and on to his next sales call.
TPR was convinced that we would not hear from our caller again. I wasn’t too sure of this. At the top of the steps he had torn off his mask, and I had seen his face. Wouldn’t he now be obliged to come back and kill me?