Strange but True: A Novel by Searles John

Author:Searles, John [Searles, John]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery, thriller, Suspense, Contemporary, Adult
ISBN: 9780062191076
Goodreads: 13621927
Publisher: William Morrow
Published: 2004-07-01T07:00:00+00:00

$1,000 a month plus utilities

If the windows are any indication, this Donnelly guy had exaggerated about the pristine condition of the place, but it was nothing Philip couldn’t fix with a bottle of Windex and a few rolls of paper towels. As far as the pets are concerned, the more Philip thinks about it, the more he likes the idea of having cuddly, loving animals around to care for and keep him company. After all, he doesn’t know a soul in the city, so life is bound to be lonely at first. Besides, after wandering into two different real estate agencies today, Philip had been left with the impression that the best he could hope for would be a short-term lease on a cardboard box somewhere in Queens—if he was lucky. Both brokers told him the same thing: he’d need his last three pay stubs, a security deposit, first and last month’s rent, as well as a letter of reference from his most recent landlord if he hoped to secure an apartment. Even if Philip did have the pay stubs, most of the money he made at the restaurant was in undeclared tips, so his checks would not impress anyone. As for a letter of reference, his most recent and only landlord was his mother. He doubted they’d accept a letter from her, not that she’d write a very nice one after what she had said to him yesterday.

Luckily, as Philip wandered along St. Mark’s Place—where it seemed to him that a person could get anything he wanted, from acupuncture to tattoos to pizza to Thai food, all in a single stretch—he spotted the pink flyer taped to a street lamp. At the bottom, there were several small slits cut into the paper so people could tear off Donnelly’s name and number. But Philip ripped down the entire sign and three more like it down the street, because he had already figured out just how competitive this apartment-hunting business was.

“Donnelly!” he shouts again when a full two minutes pass and no one appears in the windows. “It’s me, Philip Chase! The guy who called about the apartment!”

This time a woman with a bright, multicolored scarf tied over her head appears. She waves to Philip then drops a balled-up towel down to the street. Philip extends his hands to catch it but chickens out at the last second, the way he used to during Little League games when the coach stuck him in right field. After the towel smacks against the sidewalk Philip picks it up and finds a gold key inside. He walks to the front door and lets himself into the small vestibule that leads to the stairs. The interior of the building smells like a church meeting room—a combination of weak coffee and old perfume, as well as a hardy dash of carpet deodorizer thrown into the mix. The slanted wooden staircase is covered with a threadbare, burgundy rug. The Pepto-Bismol pink paint is peeling off the walls in large, plate-size slivers.

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