“Get that grin off your face, you haven’t seen the best bit yet,” Thomas snorted. The taxi, thankfully, lasted to their destination, and when it stopped them off they stood in a street of classic old, tall, Chicago buildings. Thomas lead Harry to the furthest along the street, and pressed the old intercom buzzer - “not that this’ll last if you take it,” he commented - and informed the crackly voice that he was here for the viewing.
The woman who opened the door to them five minutes later was in her mid-fifties, tall, dark-skinned, with a somewhat matronly look about her. She introduced herself as Mrs Torres, and gave them a brief smile before ushering them inside. “Elevator is out,” she told them. “We’ll have to use the stairs.”
“Not a problem,” Thomas said lightly, “My friend is claustrophobic anyway.”
The landlady gave them a look, but said nothing as she swept them towards the staircase and started walking down. At the bottom, she opened the door and said, “We used to have a separate outside entrance to the basement apartment, but I’m afraid it got boarded up some time ago, so you’ll have to use the lobby like everyone else.”
She gestured with her hands as they entered the room.”Like you asked for, Mr Raith, Two bedrooms, one bathroom, this living room, kitchen. Not much to it, really, but it’s cosy enough.”
“And that room?” Thomas asked, pointing innocently at a door near the opposite end of the room.
“Oh, it leads down to the sub-basement. It’s all yours, but it’s freezing down there. Nobody’s used it in years,” she said dismissively. She turned to Harry and said, “Is there anything you’d like to know?”
