Chapter 3My Landlady Tried to Frame Me, but the Comments Saved Me

By the time the officers arrived, Linda was gone from the door.

There were two of them, Officer Chandler and Officer Jennings.

Chandler had me tell it from the beginning. After looking at my photo of the form, he asked, "She wanted you to sign in her place?"

"Yes. I didn't."

Jennings glanced into the apartment. "Claire's things are still here?"

I took them into the bedroom.

Claire's bed was still unmade.

An unopened sleep mask lay by the pillow. A half-finished cup of boba sat on the desk, gone sour.

Her favorite white shirt hung in the closet.

She wouldn't have left these behind.

Chandler took photos and asked, "Where's Ms. Walsh now?"

"I don't know. She took the silver suitcase down to B1, then came back and pounded on my door."

Jennings called building management.

Hugh, the property manager, arrived sweating. "The basement cameras went out three days ago. They haven't been fixed."

Chandler's pen stopped. "The day Claire went missing?"

Hugh's voice grew less certain. "It's an old building. Things break."

Jennings asked, "Does Ms. Walsh have a key to the basement?"

"Yes. She rents storage unit B13."

Chandler closed his notebook.

"Show us."

I followed them into the elevator.

The doors opened onto damp air. Several of the basement lights were out. Hugh went first, keys clenched in his hand.

"B13 is at the far end."

He stopped at an iron door at the end of the corridor, with a yellowed "13" pasted to it.

The lock was new.

Hugh tried the management key twice. It didn't budge. "She must have changed it."

Jennings asked me, "You're sure she brought the suitcase down here? What did it look like?"

"Silver, about 28 inches, a lock on the zipper, and a black scuff on one corner."

As I finished, a voice came from behind us.

Linda, in a different jacket, stood blocking the entrance with a ring of keys. "Nina, you brought the police to break into my storage unit?"

Chandler turned.

"Linda Walsh? Please open the door."

"On what grounds?"

"We have a report of a missing tenant, and today you tried to have someone else sign her move-out confirmation. We need to see inside your storage unit."

Linda stood in front of the door and didn't move.

"So the police can just go through people's things?"

"You can refuse. Then we'll follow protocol."

She looked past both officers and sneered at me. "Nina, you really are something."

I said nothing.

She took out her keys.

"Fine, I'll open it. Let's see what you find."

The iron door swung open.

Inside were pieces of old furniture, cardboard boxes, and a folding bed. No silver suitcase.

Hugh let out a breath. Linda spread her hands. "See? Nothing."

Jennings switched on a flashlight and searched the room inch by inch.

Beneath the damp, moldy smell was a cloying, sour stench.

I fought down my nausea and stepped inside.

In the corner was a faint drag mark running from the back of the room all the way to the door.

I followed it to the folding bed.

The comments drifted past.

[The suitcase has been moved.]

[Look under the folding bed.]

[That brown on the drag mark is blood.]

I pointed. "Officer, look under the bed."

Linda cut in. "What are you making up now?"

Jennings crouched and shone the flashlight under the bed.

A few seconds later he drew out a small scrap of black cloth embroidered with a white kitten. It was the pocket from Claire's pajamas.

Linda's mouth opened, but no explanation came.

Chandler said, "Ms. Walsh, explain this." Linda pointed at me. "She planted it! She and Claire fought every day. If Claire's missing, she's behind it!"

Linda lunged. Jennings blocked her, and she shouted at me over his shoulder. "You were the last one to see Claire before she disappeared, weren't you?"