Chapter 5 - The Landlord’s Ledger
Thirty minutes later, Daniel returned to the tenement building on Pine Street. Mia was sitting quietly on the bottom step of the exterior staircase, swinging her legs back and forth, clutching her red plastic bucket.
When she saw him walking back up the street empty-handed, her lower lip quivered slightly.
""Did you catch her?"" Mia asked softly.
""No,"" Daniel said, sitting down on the cold concrete beside her, resting his elbows on his knees. ""I lost her in the crowd. But we're going to figure this out, Mia. I promise you.""
Before Mia could reply, the heavy metal door behind them creaked open. A heavy-set man in a stained gray tracksuit and a gold chain walked out, holding a ring of jangling keys. He glared down at them with suspicious, bloodshot eyes.
""Hey! What are you two doing loitering on my steps?"" the landlord barked, spitting a glob of phlegm onto the pavement. ""If you're looking for rent assistance, go down to city hall. This building is private property.""
Daniel stood up instantly, stepping into the man's line of sight with an intensity that made the landlord take an involuntary half-step back.
""I'm not looking for rent assistance,"" Daniel said, his voice cold and hard as steel. ""I'm looking for the woman living in basement flat 4B. The mother of this little girl.""
The landlord’s eyes flickered nervously toward Mia, then back to Daniel. A flicker of defensive aggression crossed his face. ""Ah. You mean the quiet one. Miss Vance. What's it to you? She pays her rent on time, in cash, every first of the month. No trouble, no complaints.""
""Her name is Vance?"" Daniel asked, his brow furrowing. ""Clara Vance?""
""Yeah. Clara,"" the landlord grunted, crossing his fat arms over his chest. ""Moves like a ghost, talks even less. Came here about six months ago with nothing but a suitcase and the kid. Now look, mister, if you're some debt collector or repo man—""
""I'm not a debt collector,"" Daniel interrupted, pulling a thick stack of hundred-dollar bills from his inner jacket pocket and flashing them just long enough for the landlord’s eyes to dilate with greed. ""I want access to that flat. Now. I want to see her lease application, her emergency contacts, any documentation she filled out when she moved in.""
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The landlord stared at the cash, swallowed hard, and glanced down the empty hallway.
""Lease applications are kept in the back office,"" the landlord muttered, holding out his hand. ""Show me the green first, and maybe I'll let you look through the file box.""
