TWO: RENT DELINQUENT

I'm watching the original Dragnet show on the History Channel when the intercom buzzes. I don't know how the show rates as History-maybe just because it's really old. It was one of my dad's favorites.

I get up from the couch and walk into the hall where the intercom is stuck on the wall. I assume the buzzer is a tenant who's forgotten their key and wants me to let them in. I don't mind except after 11 PM when I give them a little attitude.

It's not a tenant. It's two police detectives.

I let them in, grab my keys and take the stairs up to meet them.

I have a pretty good idea why the cops are here. Morgan, John. Apartment 602. Moved in two months ago with his wife Morgan, Janet. Have not seen her since. Almost no furniture. Last months rent cheque bounced. All the precursors for a visit from the law.

They ask me the usual questions in the elevator. When did he move in? When was the last time I saw him? Any parties or complaints from other tenets? They must have a page in the police procedural manual. How to interview the superintendent.

I cooperate. No sense making waves with the law. I've called them myself before. No doubt I'll call them again.

I ask if they've got a warrant. They say no. All they want me to do is open the door so they can look in. They're not going to enter the premises.

The tall one with donut sugar on his tie knocks hard on the door.

"Police, Mr. Morgan," he says in a loud voice. "Open the door!"

Three other doors on the floor open. People stick their heads out and quickly pull them back in when they see me with the cops. No response from 602, Morgan, John, rent delinquent and probable perpetrator of a criminal malfeasance.

I turn the key and step to the side quickly in case there's any gunplay. The cops don't even make the effort to put their hands on their guns. Another myth shattered.

The apartment stinks.

"That smell like a body to you," the tall one asks his partner. Cop number two sticks his head inside and sniffs his nose twitching like a rabbit in a carrot patch.

"Could be," he says.

"Garbage," I tell them. I'm the expert when it comes to apartment smells. The living room floor is littered with pizza boxes. A slice has been crushed into the carpet and has gray mold growing all over it. Another shitty clean up job.

"I think we got probable," the tall one says. They both look at me. I shrug. Suit yourselves I tell them. They're covering their asses incase there's fall out. Technically with rent in arrears almost a month it could be said that as the legal representative of the owners I have the right to enter the premises.

I delegate that responsibility to the guys with guns.


Visit My Web Site
http://www.geocities.com/funink/pcorman.html