Since moving interstate for work, my friend’s investment property was performing so well that she occasionally forgot she had it. That was, until a phone call out of the blue from her old neighbour. “I think the girl renting your house is running a brothel,” was how the conversation started.
BY SHANNON MOLLOY
Sarah, as we’ll call her, had lived in her inner-Brisbane cottage for a few years, before accepting a job in Melbourne and leasing it to a lovely 30-something professional woman.
BY PETER KOULIZOS
