Home for a Spell by Madelyn Alt

newly established ladies in both of those fields. Nice, clean apartments that are safe and well-maintained and affordable are hard to come by, and . . . well, word gets around.” He was in manager mode again, using the detail as a selling point. I had to say, I much preferred it to anything more personal. And, technically speaking, he was right. Good apartments were few and far between, especially in a small-town environment.
    The walkway area was clean, the external siding intact and probably not asbestos. The exposed stairs looked sturdily built and well maintained. All good.
    He put the key in the dead-bolt lock and paused before turning it, his hand on the knob. He cleared his throat. “I do have to admit, for the sake of disclosure, that the apartment was tenanted for a couple of months this summer. Meaning, you are not the first tenant to have this apartment after renovations. Not that that is important in any way. The apartment has been completely cleaned and repainted, again, naturally.”
    The news surprised me. “I thought the apartments had been involved in renovations since the new owners bought the property,” I commented.
    “Yes, that’s true.”
    “The tenants must have moved out very quickly.”
    He turned his back on me and turned the key in the knob. “I’m afraid I was forced to remove them.”
    “Remove them?”
    “Yes. They violated the lease. I had no choice but to evict them. I’m afraid I can’t discuss it, though. Privacy laws.”
    Why did I feel so certain there was more of a story behind that action? “I see.”
    He cleared his throat again and pushed the door open. Back in manager mode, he said, “Here’s what you really want to see. Feast your eyes on the apartment itself. I think you’re going to like it.”
    The blinds were all drawn, making it difficult to see much. But as he reached to flick on the lights, a sound came from somewhere deeper in the apartment itself, and it definitely didn’t sound like your average noise caused by settling. Locke froze. I froze.
    In the next moment Locke lurched into action like some landlocked sea beast, clumsily searching from room to room. Probably just a squirrel , I thought, oddly at ease with the notion that a squirrel could be in residence in the same apartment I was considering renting. I opened my mouth to voice my thought to Locke, but as he lunged to look beneath the sofa, he paused and cut off my first syllable with a gesture that was both a warning to keep silent and an instruction for me to stay where I was. Properly chastised, I decided to continue letting him make a fool of himself as much as he wanted to and zipped my lips as requested. Instead, I remained hovering in the doorway, propping the door open with my back as I waited.
    The apartment wasn’t bad, from what I could see of it. Not bad at all. Granted, the dim lighting prevented me from making out any great detail, but it seemed to be pretty nice. Nicer even than I had hoped. One open-concept and large living-slash-dining room, carpeted with what looked like Berber, with a galley kitchen and island-slash-bar lining the wall in the northeast quadrant from where I was facing, and big windows facing out on both ends of the extended space. In the kitchen I saw decent-looking cupboards and a supernice countertop that might be some sort of stone, and there were two barstools facing the island counter. Awesome.
    I was considering stepping farther into the confines of the apartment and exploring while Locke did his thing. I mean, it couldn’t hurt . Right? Especially since he was now moving down the dark hall toward the back of the apartment. I could hear the shower curtain being pulled aside, the hooks making scraping noises against the rod, and then a door. Linen closet, maybe? Oh, I hoped so. I closed my eyes and tried to feel the room, letting the sounds pull me in. The ability to remotely view an unseen target had certainly intrigued me, but it was not something that