The Handmaid's Short Story: The Haunted House

The phone rang; splitting the silence. Well, it wasn’t exactly silence. There was the hum of appliances working, and the frequent clicking of keys on a typewriter. But the phone ringing was definitely the loudest. And as with all phone calls, this one also brought the wave of anxiety. Like that feeling when when you trip on the sidewalk but catch yourself before you fall. Incoherent anxiety is another way to put it. But she acted reasonably and set aside her work to see what was so important that it couldn't wait and they just had to call.
Her house was small, smaller than most, and very clutter free. The main room had a brown shelf that showed years of age stood almost empty, except for a few lone book spine randomly placed. A lumpy gray

Maybe he should go back in. And tell them what? He thought. Hey, I just meet your daughter two days ago and we looked for a golden toilet, can you pass me a tissue? Stupid. So he left and walked home.
He was only a block away when he noticed a “For Sale” sign in the yard. He figured that it must have been her old house. The outside was well kept. The paint was brown and blended in. It didn’t stick out like his favorite cafe. It was mundane, under the radar.
He slipped into the house and looked at her rickety furniture which so closely matched his own. In the back he found her typewriter when he noticed a check made out to Bradley Sartell for two-hundred dollars for a tip on a article. Underneath was a white page still left drying on the dark oak table.

ARTICLE THAT CARTER WROTE
Glass shards are on the outside
Mr. Felman faked the whole robbery
No one bought it in 2 years
Insurance policy was over 5 million

Jim Felman lay in his down comforter on his king sized bed cradling his sons hands. After he passed of old age in his sleep, that son would inherit his whole fortune. But he would die with billions of dollars to his name and a beautiful house with a koi pond who he hired someone for minimum wage to