Chapter 5: The Landlord's Gambit

Moving day arrived with the kind of crisp October morning that made Liam almost nostalgic for his time at 428 Maple Street—until he remembered why he was leaving. The rental truck sat parked in the building's rear lot, already half-loaded with boxes and furniture. After three years of accumulating the small necessities of life, Liam was surprised by how much he'd managed to cram into the tiny studio.

He'd spent the previous evening preparing for whatever Croft might try. Following Ava Chen's advice, he'd documented everything: photographed the apartment's condition, recorded video walkthroughs, and most importantly, filed a preemptive police report about Croft's threatening phone call.

The desk sergeant at the local precinct had been surprisingly receptive when Liam explained the situation.

"Landlord harassment," Officer Martinez had said, making notes in his report. "We see it more often than you'd think. Usually escalates around move-out time when they realize they're losing leverage."

"What should I do if he shows up?"

"Call us immediately. Don't engage, don't argue, just document and dial 911. We'll have a patrol car in the area today, just in case."

Now, loading the last of his possessions into the truck, Liam felt the strange mixture of relief and anticipation that came with ending one chapter of his life while preparing for whatever came next. His new apartment across town was smaller but infinitely better maintained, with a landlord who'd actually returned his phone calls and provided references from other tenants.

Mrs. Rodriguez appeared in the building's rear doorway, watching him load boxes with a mixture of sadness and envy.

"I wish I could leave too," she said, wrapping her thin sweater more tightly around her shoulders. "But at my age, with my income..."

"The city inspection report will force him to make improvements," Liam said, though he wondered if Croft would comply or simply try to evict everyone and sell the building. "And if he retaliates against any of you for cooperating with the inspector, document everything and call Ava Chen immediately."

"You really think things will get better?"

Liam looked up at the building—at the cracked facade, the broken windows, the general air of neglect that permeated everything Croft touched. "Things have to get better. He can't ignore city orders the way he ignores tenant complaints."

By noon, the truck was loaded except for a few final items in his apartment. Liam was wrapping his computer equipment in protective padding when he heard heavy footsteps in the hallway outside, followed by angry voices.

Through his door's peephole, he could see Croft standing in the hallway with two other men—both large, both looking like they'd been hired more for intimidation than legitimate moving services. Croft was gesturing aggressively toward Liam's apartment, his face flushed with the kind of rage that made rational conversation impossible.

Liam's phone was in his hand before he'd consciously decided to call the police.

"911, what's your emergency?"

"This is Liam Carter at 428 Maple Street. I filed a report yesterday about landlord harassment. The landlord is here now with two men, and they're making threats outside my apartment."

"Stay on the line, sir. We have a patrol car two minutes away."

The pounding on Liam's door started before he could respond to the dispatcher.

"Carter! Open this door right now!" Croft's voice carried the kind of fury that made the thin walls seem inadequate protection. "You think you can hide behind lawyers and inspectors? This is my building!"

"Sir," the dispatcher said, "do not open the door. Officers are pulling up now."

Through his peephole, Liam watched the scene unfold like a perfectly choreographed demonstration of why he'd been right to involve the police. Croft continued pounding on the door and shouting threats while his two companions stood behind him, clearly uncomfortable with the escalating situation.

The police arrived with the efficiency of people who'd handled similar situations many times before. Two uniformed officers entered the hallway, and the change in atmosphere was immediate.

"Gentlemen," Officer Martinez said—Liam recognized his voice from the previous evening. "We're going to need everyone to step back and calm down."

"This is my building!" Croft protested. "I have every right to be here!"

"You have the right to be on your property, sir, but you don't have the right to harass tenants or make threats. We received a complaint about intimidating behavior."

Liam opened his door, staying behind the threshold but making himself visible to the officers.

"Mr. Carter," Martinez nodded. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, officer. I'm in the process of moving out, and Mr. Croft arrived with these men, making threats and demanding entry to my apartment."

"I want him out today!" Croft shouted. "Not tomorrow, not next week—today!"

The second officer, whose nameplate read "Johnson," stepped forward. "Sir, you need to lower your voice. What's the nature of your dispute with Mr. Carter?"

"He's destroying my business with false complaints and lies to the city!"

Officer Johnson looked at Liam. "Sir, did you file complaints with city agencies?"

"Yes, I documented code violations and reported them to the building inspection department. Everything I reported was factual."

"False!" Croft's face was turning purple. "Twenty-five years I've been managing properties, and this little—"

"Sir," Martinez interrupted, "you need to calm down. Making threats and attempting to force entry to a tenant's apartment is illegal, regardless of your grievances."

The two men Croft had brought with him were already backing toward the stairs, clearly wanting no part of a confrontation with police. One of them spoke up for the first time.

"Mr. Croft, we're just movers. We didn't sign up for this."

"Exactly," Johnson said. "Gentlemen, you're free to go."

As his hired muscle disappeared down the stairs, Croft seemed to deflate slightly, though his anger remained at a dangerous simmer.

"Mr. Croft," Martinez said, "I'm going to need you to leave the building immediately. Mr. Carter is conducting a legal move-out, and you're interfering with that process."

"This is my property—"

"And harassment of tenants is illegal, regardless of property ownership. You leave now, or we arrest you for trespassing and making threats."

Croft looked at Liam with undisguised hatred. "This isn't over, Carter. You think you've won, but this isn't over."

He turned and stomped toward the stairs, his heavy footsteps echoing through the building like a retreating thunderstorm.

Martinez waited until the sound of Croft's footsteps faded before turning to Liam. "You did the right thing calling us. How much more do you need to move?"

"Just my computer equipment and some final cleaning supplies. Maybe an hour."

"We'll stay until you're loaded and gone. Men like that... they don't always think clearly when they're angry."

The final hour of packing passed without incident, the police presence having apparently convinced Croft to retreat and reconsider his approach. Liam loaded his computer equipment with extra care, wrapped his monitors in blankets, and secured everything for the drive across town.

Mrs. Rodriguez appeared again as he was doing a final walk-through of his empty apartment, checking for forgotten items and documenting the condition he was leaving it in.

"The police said Mr. Croft had to leave," she said. "Maybe now he'll realize he can't just bully people."

"Maybe," Liam agreed, though something about Croft's final threat suggested the landlord wasn't ready to accept defeat.

The drive to his new apartment took thirty minutes through city traffic, giving Liam time to process the morning's events. Croft's behavior had been even more erratic than expected, crossing lines that turned civil disputes into criminal matters. The police intervention had been necessary, but it had also escalated the conflict in ways that made Liam uneasy.

His new apartment was on the third floor of a well-maintained building, with working elevators and a landlord who'd actually provided references. The contrast with 428 Maple Street was immediately apparent—clean hallways, proper lighting, maintenance requests that got answered promptly.

Liam spent the afternoon unloading and began the process of setting up his workspace in the larger, brighter room that would serve as his office. The difference in natural light alone made him realize how much his productivity had suffered in the cramped, poorly lit studio.

By evening, he was exhausted but satisfied. The immediate crisis was over. He was free of Croft's harassment, safely established in a better living situation, and his legal case was proceeding. The city inspection report would force Croft to make expensive repairs or face escalating fines. Justice was being served through proper channels.

He was arranging his art supplies when his phone rang. The caller ID showed his old number at 428 Maple Street—the landline he'd forgotten to disconnect.

Curious, he answered. "Hello?"

"Mr. Carter?" It was Mrs. Rodriguez, and she sounded frightened. "Something terrible has happened. You need to know... Mr. Croft came back after you left."

Liam felt his stomach drop. "What did he do?"

"He went into your old apartment. I heard hammering, lots of noise. When I looked out my peephole..." Her voice trembled. "Mr. Carter, he nailed boards across your door. From the inside. He's trapped himself in your apartment."

The phone nearly slipped from Liam's hand. "He's inside? Right now?"

"I can hear him moving around in there. What should I do? Should I call the police?"

Liam looked around his new apartment—safe, clean, legal—and realized that despite everything, Croft still had the power to pull him back into the nightmare.

"Yes," he said, grabbing his keys. "Call the police immediately. And Mrs. Rodriguez? Stay in your apartment and lock your door. Don't let him know you called me."

As he headed for his car, Liam realized the war with Silas Croft had entered its final, most dangerous phase. And this time, the battlefield would be a crime scene.