The house was meticulously presented to the young couple looking for a new home. Not one speck of dust defiled any surface, every tile shone bright, every window sparkled in the sunlight. Yes, Tobias was a clean man, and his home reflected that. The people looking for a new home for themselves and their precious little family ooh’d and aah’d over the size of the living room. Oh look at the dining room, they would comment breathlessly, and the back garden! What a perfect place for the children. And Tobias would tell them all about how great the area was, how friendly the neighbours were. And they would ooh and aah some more, and wonder if they could somehow get the money together for the deposit. Tobias would watch the leave, and then he would descend to the basement – the one place he wouldn’t show them – to play with his little toys.
The young couple came back with the cheque for their new home one month later, to be confronted by the stench of death and a hidden door – perfectly concealed in the hall’s oak panelling. The young woman screamed, and collapsed when she saw what was hidden behind the door, and the young man retched and finally thought to call the police.
The little girls had been dead a long time, though their bodies were preserved impeccably, their faces were those of twins that had gone missing sometime in the early sixties. The police officers and forensics experts never ooh’d and aah’d over the fine work that had gone into the preservation of the two eight year old girls. And the outfits, and the toys, and the little basement that had been turned in to the perfect little doll’s house. Nor did they stop to congratulate Tobias on such fine work. No, they thanked their lucky stars that he had fallen down the stairs and would never make another ‘toy’ again.