On the side of a hill to the east of town, past the Eidlin river, overlooking the gentle slopes of the Asphon valley, there was a picturesque, two-story, farm house with a for sale sign planted at the end of its driveway. It was an older house with white walls built on a stone foundation twice as wide as it was deep. A covered front porch held up by thick posts and occupied by hanging, potted herbs stretched its full width. Parked out front was an immaculately-clean Tetra Series J, the company automobile from Simon & Page Realty.
Mother and son Gallagher were touring the house with their realtor, Richard Amato, an obnoxious, sharp-nosed, self-important man from a large city near the coast who had black, slicked-back hair, and fancied silk suits as his preferred attire. They had recently remodeled the interior in preparation for placing their homestead on the market. Although the property had been in their family for generations--even before the grea