Brian trudges up the steps into the fourth apartment building of the day. With the sun already setting, this needs to be the right place for the next year or so. A few minutes later, while touring one of the recently vacated 1 bedroom apartments, the landlord claims the rent for this unit in this part of Boston is $1400/mo. Brian quickly smiles and says that will be no problem. The landlord has another meeting to get to, so Brian takes advantage of his absence to look at the place more closely. He closes the blinds, turns off the lights, and turns on his black-light. If the apartment looked clean before, it certainly didn’t now. Droplets of saliva and blood, lots of bleach on the walls—
“Ah,” Brian states, looking at the bedroom wall. It has lots of bleach on it still, large swirling brush marks as if someone tried to erase the message written there. In all capital letters two feet high: I’LL BE BACK was daubed on the wall in blood.
The entryway light illuminates once more. “Mr. Vasquez? Are you still in here?”
“Yeah, sorry.” Brian hastily replies while stowing the black-light in his bag. “Just looking around a bit.”
“So what do you think? Want to make this place yours?”
“Well, it looks good. Very clean. Sterile almost.”
“Yes sir! We just cleaned it this morning, the previous tenant left unexpectedly last night. So it’s all ready!”
“Your cleaning company is very good. I could still see the note on the bedroom wall though.”
The landlord coughs and looks at his phone briefly.
“But we’ve got a deal, you said $1000 a month right?”
“Erm… That’s right sir… $1000.”