“A loft.”
“Oh. Ladder?”
Joyce seemed confused for a beat, but then her expression shifted. “No, no. The bedroom and full bath are accessible by stairs.”
“What’s, um… what’s downstairs?”
“A living room and separate kitchen.”
“What floor?”
Joyce was beginning to look skeptical. “Fourth,” she drew out. “Why?”
“Rental or purchase?”
“A rental—sorry, are you—?”
“What’s it going for?”
She blinked almost comically before opening her huge purse and taking out a manila folder. “I’m brand stinkin’ new to New York,” she explained, opening the file and offering me the printouts. “I carry these little cheat sheets with me. It has all the information about the neighborhood, building, and unit.”
I held the file close to my face so I didn’t have to dig out the magnifying glass from my messenger bag. The provided photos were of a huge apartment with high ceilings, big windows, nice floors and walls—must have been recently renovated. I studied the bullet points underneath the pictures. “There’s a live-in super, laundry in-building, pet-friendly—” I did a double take at the monthly price, then looked at Joyce. “Is this a joke?”
“What do you mean?”
“This price is real?”
“Yes? I mean, tenants have to pay internet, gas, and electricity. Plus, there’s first and last month’s rent, as well as a security fee.”
“What’s your fee?” I countered, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
“The owner has agreed to pay my broker fee. Assuming I ever get the damn place rented.”
“Did someone die in there?” I asked, handing Joyce her folder back.
“Why would you ask that?”
“I’m trying to figure out why it’s still readily available.”
She shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. I think it’s a great place.”
“Can I view it?” I blurted out.
Joyce startled. “R-really? But I—”
“Sebastian?”
I turned as Calvin and Dillon were returning from the corner. I reached a hand out for him while saying, “Hey, there’s a loft on the fourth floor that’s available, and Joyce Kelly, Realtor Extraordinaire, had a viewing cancellation.” To Joyce I said, “This is my partner, Calvin Winter. He’s a detective with the NYPD. I own a business a few blocks from here. We have savings and great credit. What do you say?”
“Uh… well, you’d have to fill out an application,” she began, giving us a wary look, like she was expecting to be punk’d at any minute.
“We’d be happy to,” Calvin said, quick to take my lead when he realized how excited I was.
“Provide proof of income,” Joyce continued, ticking the points off on her fingers. “Plus, we’ll need to run a credit check.”
I nodded like a bobblehead. “Not a problem. We’ve been looking for two months—I’ve got the routine down pat.”
Joyce hesitated, tugged on a hoop earring, and chewed her lower lip.
