Plumbing in Little Rock hides under pier-and-beam floors and, in newer parts of town, under slabs that do not forgive a seep. Summer humidity sweats exposed supply lines until a real leak is hard to spot. A cold snap still splits a hose bib on the north wall and surprises people who thought the river city never froze. Old cast iron under bungalow baths scales, sags, and then makes a stain on the plaster you just painted.
Open with leak, drain, or water heater. Say whether the water is still moving and whether you found the shutoff. A drip at the ceiling can be a tub shoe, a supply valve in a wall, or rain from a valley above. Those should not be mashed into one story. If the meter moves while the house is quiet, say that. It is the cleanest hint of a slab or a crawl-space leak you can have without opening anything.
Drains in older Little Rock houses often involve cast iron, a long run through a crawl space, and roots near mature oaks. If two fixtures are slow, the problem is not the trap you already cleaned. If the yard has a wet spot that smells wrong on a dry day, say so. Sewage at a cleanout is not a weekend project. Storm rain that bubbles at an outside drain is a timeline clue, not proof the supply burst.
Water heaters in closets and in crawl spaces fail quietly and then all at once. A pan full of water, a rumble, a lack of hot water on a humid morning when you wanted a shower anyway: say which. Know if the heater is gas or electric if you can see it without moving stored clutter onto the unit. If water is reaching wood or a plaster ceiling, that fact outranks the age of the tank.
The river air will keep condensing on cold pipes, and a small seep will keep feeding rot in a crawl space you seldom visit. Call with the neighborhood and one plain sentence about what the water is doing. If you already shut the house down, lead with that. Call the number on this page.