Dying Echo A Grim Reaper Mystery - By Judy Clemens Page 0,33
to appeal to the landlord’s sense of protectiveness—or was that guilt?—she’d do it.
The short stack of papers included copies of a completed rental agreement, a signed security deposit form, a receipt for the first payment—first and last month, plus the security deposit—and what should have been a copy of Alicia’s first paycheck. Instead of a paycheck, there was a signed letter from Karl, the manager, saying Alicia had a job at The Slope. Casey figured that when you were paying someone under the table there wouldn’t be as many official forms at hand.
The rental agreement had mostly the same information as her job application from The Slope, except this had the reference from Karl, as well as the phone number of the cell phone she’d been using, which was apparently a throw-away. The security agreement was basically just Alicia saying she promised not to trash the place, or she would give up her deposit. And the letter from Karl was on obviously mocked-up letterhead, and had a date from June.
“You took this at face value? From a place called The Slope?”
The landlord sighed. “I know the restaurant. It’s a terrible place, and someone would only want to work there if she were desperate.”
“So you like to rent out to desperate people?”
“It’s not the smartest business model, I realize that. But she was…she reminded me of my daughter.”
The daughter, Casey assumed, whom she saw highlighted in framed photos on the walls, along with scads of children. How she stayed looking so young was a mystery. Having just one baby had done a number on Casey—she couldn’t imagine having five. But then, perhaps when they lived past the first six months it was different.
“How did Alicia find you?”
“Advertisement in the paper. Usually I go by word of mouth, but this time there were no takers. Kids want to live right at the base of the mountains, you see. They don’t want to have to walk farther than down the block to hook up with their friends and go skiing or dancing. And that’s where all the modern clubs and things are. That’s where the young people want to be. So this time I had to resort to advertising.”
“Why did your last tenant leave?”
“Who knows? None of my business. But I’m assuming he had a better offer elsewhere. I wasn’t sorry to see him go. My daughter never did approve of him, either.”
“Did he give you trouble?”
“Nothing criminal. At least I don’t think so. Just lazy. The place was a mess when he left. Beer bottles, fast food trash, and the dirt. You’d think he worked in the mines. Plus he brought all kinds of women home at all times of night. I finally had to say something.” He shrugged. “Could be part of the reason he left.”
Death was busy photoshopping Alicia into Brooks’ family photo on the iPad, but paused to say, “Think that’s a connection?”
Casey couldn’t imagine how, but asked Brooks what he thought.
“No. He was here and gone long before Alicia showed up. I never heard from or saw him again after he left. It’s a good thing I got his last month’s rent when he moved in. I never trusted his face.”
“Hmm,” Death said. “Can you trust a face? Do faces have independent thinking?”
Ignoring the comment, Casey said, “What about Alicia? She showed up with your advertisement and you just took her in?”
“She must have had a trustworthy face,” Death said.
“She’d been staying at the youth hostel,” Brooks said. “That one on the edge of town. Only she wasn’t exactly a youth anymore, and I could see it had taken its toll on her. The kids who go there generally don’t care about curfews or, well, sleep. And they definitely don’t care about others’ sleep. The supervision isn’t very strict, so the place is basically a party house. Alicia had been there for over a week while she job hunted and began her days at the restaurant, so she was looking rather…exhausted.”
“She had the money to pay you?”
He shifted in his seat. “Not all of it.”
“Told you,” Death said. “The face thing.”
Casey looked at the papers again. Now that she was looking for it, she could see that the receipt for the first month’s rent and the deposit was in June, but the last month’s rent was dated the middle of August. “You gave her a free month?”
“No. Not that I wouldn’t have considered it, but she insisted on paying it all. Said she didn’t want to owe anyone.