Chapter 2: The Landlord - A Deadly Dose of Disorder by Cindy Downes

     As I put the last of the groceries away, I hear heavy footsteps climbing the stairs. “Oh crap,” I say as I spot my landlord, Alec. Oreo barks, jumps up and down and runs around in circles, while I quickly pick up dog toys, newspapers, and coffee mugs before opening the door. 
    “Alec, what do you want,” I ask?“I need to discuss your lease,” he says, pushing his way through the door. I roll my eyes. Typical for him; he pushes his way through life.Alec picks up Oreo and tosses him off the lounge chair, thumps his butt down, and reclines his feet up.
    “How about some coffee,” he demands. 
    You might think I’m his housecleaner, I say to myself as I pop a Starbucks pod in the Kuerig. “Cream and sugar,” I ask?
    “Nope, black,” he says. “Got anything sweet to go with it?”
    After he’s comfortably settled with coffee and a chocolate chip cookie, he pulls out a lease and tosses it at me.
    I scan the five-page, size-8-font document and jerk my head back with a loud “What is this?”
    Alec swallows his cookie practically whole and drinks off the top of his coffee with a loud slurp. “What is what?” he asks, wiping his hand across his mouth.
    I notice a chocolate chip fall on his designer jeans, but I’m not concerned about that. I’m too distraught at what I see in the lease. My hands are shaking as I say, “You raised my rent $200 a month!”
    “Inflation,” he says. “Everybody is dealing with inflation these days and landlords are no different.
    “But you haven’t fixed the rotten door jamb or my dishwasher or the holes in the bathroom ceiling.”
    “I fixed your door jamb, just last week,” he says with a snarl.
    “You nailed the broken pieces back into place! That’s not fixed. All you did was prevent the rotten pieces from falling down.”
    “It worked, didn’t it? Besides, I’m going to remodel this place eventually.”
    “What about the dishwasher?” I ask.
    “Your dishwasher works. I ran it through two cycles and every cycle performed exactly as required.”
    “Sure, it works, but it doesn’t clean my dishes! I have to scrub them clean first or they come out as dirty as they go in. That’s not fixed.”
    Alec grabs his mug, lifts it towards me, and says, “I’ll have another cup.”
    I grab the cup and head back towards the kitchen as he yells after me, “And don’t forget the cookie. It was a bit stale, but it’s better than nothing.”
    By this time, I’m fuming, but I get his damn coffee and cookie and sit back down. I return my attention to the lease and notice he also increased the lease to two years. “What the hell is this,” I say, pointing to the lease. “Two years! You expect me to sign a two-year lease for this hell hole?”
    Alec takes a big slurp and sits back in his chair with a smug grin. “This is beach property, lady. I could be making thousands a month if this was an AirB&B. I’m doing you a favor.” 
    “AirB&B! That’s a joke, right? No one would rent this place as a vacation home. The walls have holes in them, the floor is warped, carpet is stained, stairs are breaking, the outside hasn’t been painted in God-knows when. You can’t be serious!”
    “I’m serious. Now are you going to sign the lease or what,” he finishes his coffee and begins to get up. Oreo sits back on her haunches and growls up at him. 
    I begin to analyze the options in my mind. Not many, I admit. I’m paying an enormous amount to keep Richard in Assisted Living. I couldn’t keep him home any longer. He was falling down and wandering. 
    At 250 pounds, there was no way I could lift him, so I was calling the ambulance on a regular basis to help me get him up. He began to wander out of the house and then forget where he was. Luckily, I say this tongue in cheek, he’s visually impaired so he doesn’t have a driver’s license, or he probably would have had silver alerts as well. 
    My children, Crystal and Cameron, insisted it was time to place him in a care home. The only one on the island I could afford was close by, but not the best place for him. It has no memory care. I really need to get him into a place with memory care but that costs even more money. All this is going through my mind as I ponder the lease in front of me.
    There is nothing on the island that is this cheap, even with a $200/month increase. I just can’t afford to move right now. I’ll have to cut back more on groceries and whatever else I can think of, but at least I can still be here on the island with Richard and the kids. I’ll have a roof over my head, even if it does leak now and then. Better than being on the street. I don’t want to have to compete with Ron on 61^st and Broadway! 
    “Fine,” I say, grabbing a pen from my desk. “I’ll sign your lease, but at least fix the hole in my bathroom ceiling.” I scribble my signature across the lease and hand it back to him.
    “Sure,” he says as he pushes off of the recliner and waddles his 300 lb frame out the door. “Next week. I’ll take care of it next week.”
    I shut the door after him and blow out a big breath. Exasperated is mild for what I’m really feeling. How am I going to pay for this and assisted living, too?
 
     

Chapter 1: Connie - A Deadly Dose of Disorder by Cindy Downes

Maybe I'll finish this book if I post the chapters on my blog in the order I write them. So, my Dear Readers, you are now going to get an unedited, preview of A Deadly Dose of Disorder, written by yours truly, Cindy Downes. There will be all kinds of errors and inconsistencies, but it will be fun. Let me know if you spot anything really crazy, especially inconsistencies- I need all the help I can get. I'll try to write and post a chapter a week? Every other week? Every month? Not sure. We'll just see how it goes. So, here's Chapter 1.

 Stacking groceries in my brand new rolling cart for stairs, I glance up at my apartment. No, it’s not much, but it’s home for now. The turquoise-blue paint is peeling and faded from the hot summer sun and salty sea air. The wood around the windows is slowly rotting from the moisture and island critters enjoying their lunch. The air condition sticking out the back window is rusted, but it does work.

My home, owned by Alec Thorne, sits behind a beautiful, historic mansion, also owned by Alec Thorne. He lives there as well. On the other side of a skinny, gravel-covered, trash-can-lined alley is another beautiful, historic home, which is also owned by Alec Thorne. This is why I call my home, “The Rose Between Two Thornes.” 

At least it’s a house instead of the tiny garage AirB&B I rented when I first arrived in Galveston a year ago. My new, or should I say, current home has one bedroom, a bath, a galley kitchen, a living room and a small area for dining. Downstairs is a laundry and some area for storage, which I use for my crafting room. 

I had to move from a beautiful, two-bedroom apartment I had rented near the beach to this place after placing Richard, my husband who has Alzheimer’s, into the Shady Rest Assisted Living Home. His condition had gotten to the point where even with at-home help, I could no longer safely take care of him. The cost of the nursing home came as quite a shock. It takes most of our income, so, to make ends meet, I moved into this very-run-down rental last year. It cut my rent by $600, so it’s worth it for now. My kids, Crystal and Cameron, help out as needed so I have no complaints. 

Dragging the heavy wheeled cart up the stairs is not easy even if this is supposed to be made for stairs. I had hoped to find a place without stairs, but that is almost impossible in Galveston. Most of the places are built with the idea that it will flood here off and on, so houses on stilts are the norm. 

As I struggle with the key to unlock the door, I hear Oreo barking and pacing behind the door. Oreo is my rescue dog - a Shizhu-Jack Russell mix. She’s the love of my life now that I’m alone. 

Oreo is twelve years old, but she acts like she’s five. She loves to take walks, chase squirrels, and play “Bed Pickle Ball.” While she stands on my bed, I stand at the foot of the bed and throw her ball against the wall behind the headboard. She jumps up, chases the ball as it bounces back to me, and tries to catch it. If she jumps up and hits it with her head and I say, “Yeah, a headbanger!” If she catches the ball, then we begin the chase around the house. She jumps off the bed, runs to the living room, around the sofa, through the galley kitchen, and back to the bedroom. I love that she gets so excited about a game, and it provides a bit of exercise for both of us.

I set my groceries on the dinette and pick Oreo up. “I’m home,” I say.

Excerpt - The Landlord (A Chapter from a Mystery I'm Writing)

This is an excerpt from a mystery I’m working on – very slowly! As background, the story is about a woman who moves to Galveston to be near her daughter as she takes care of her husband with dementia. Hmm, does that sound familiar! After placing him in a nursing home, she needs more income; so, she starts a Professional Organizer business. A murder occurs in town, she ends up accused, and then she has to solve the murder before she gets arrested and put in jail. It’s just a fun thing I work on when the muse hits me. I love mysteries so this is my favorite kind of writing. Here goes. . . 

As I put the last of the groceries away, I hear heavy footsteps climbing the stairs. 

“Oh crap,” I say as I spot my landlord, Alec. Oreo barks, jumps up and down and runs around in circles, while I quickly pick up dog toys, newspapers, and coffee mugs before opening the door. “Alec, what do you want,” I ask?

“I need to discuss your lease,” he says, pushing his way through the door. I roll my eyes. Typical for him; he pushes his way through life.

Alec picks up Oreo and tosses him off the lounge chair, thumps his butt down, and reclines his feet up.    

“How about some coffee,” he demands. 

You might think I’m his housecleaner, I say to myself as I pop a Starbucks pod in the Kuerig.

“Cream and sugar,” I ask?

“Nope, black,” he says. “Got anything sweet to go with it?”

After he’s comfortably settled with coffee and a chocolate chip cookie, he pulls out a lease and tosses it at me.

I scan the five-page, size-8-font document and jerk my head back with a loud “What is this?”
Alec swallows his cookie practically whole and drinks off the top of his coffee with a loud slurp. “What is what?” he asks, wiping his hand across his mouth.

I notice a chocolate chip fall on his designer jeans, but I’m not concerned about that. I’m too distraught at what I see in the lease. My hands are shaking as I say, “You raised my rent $200 a month!”

 “Inflation,” he says. “Everybody is dealing with inflation these days and landlords are no different.

“But you haven’t fixed the rotten door jamb or my dishwasher or the holes in the bathroom ceiling.”

“I fixed your door jamb, just last week,” he says with a snarl.

“You nailed the broken pieces back into place! That’s not fixed. All you did was prevent the rotten pieces from falling down.

“It worked, didn’t it? Besides, I’m going to remodel this place eventually.”“What about the dishwasher?” I ask.

“Your dishwasher works. I ran it through two cycles and every cycle performed exactly as required.”

“Sure, it works, but it doesn’t clean my dishes! I have to scrub them clean first or they come out as dirty as they go in. That’s not fixed.”

Alec grabs his mug, lifts it towards me, and says, “I’ll have another cup.”

I grab the cup and head back towards the kitchen as he yells after me, “And don’t forget the cookie. It was a bit stale, but it’s better than nothing.”

By this time, I’m fuming, but I get his damn coffee and cookie and sit back down. I return my attention to the lease and notice he also increased the lease to two years. “What the hell is this,” I say, pointing to the lease. “Two years! You expect me to sign a two-year lease for this hell hole?”

Alec takes a big slurp and sits back in his chair with a smug grin. “This is beach property, lady. I could be making thousands a month if this was an AirB&B. I’m doing you a favor.

“AirB&B! That’s a joke, right? No one would rent this place as a vacation home. The walls have holes in them, the floor is warped, carpet is stained, stairs are breaking, the outside hasn’t been painted in God-knows when. You can’t be serious!”

“I’m serious. Now are you going to sign the lease or what,” he finishes his coffee and begins to get up. Oreo sits back on her haunches and growls up at him. 

I begin to analyze the options in my mind. Not many, I admit. I’m paying an enormous amount to keep Richard in Assisted Living. I couldn’t keep him home any longer. He was falling down and wandering. 

At 250 pounds, there was no way I could lift him, so I was calling the ambulance on a regular basis to help me get him up. He began to wander out of the house and then forget where he was. Luckily, I say this tongue in cheek, he’s visually impaired so he doesn’t have a driver’s license, or he probably would have had silver alerts as well. 

My children, Crystal and Cameron, insisted it was time to place him in a care home. The only one on the island I could afford was close by, but not the best place for him. It has no memory care. I really need to get him into a place with memory care but that costs even more money.

All this is going through my mind as I ponder the lease in front of me.

There is nothing on the island that is this cheap, even with a $200/month increase. I just can’t afford to move right now. I’ll have to cut back more on groceries and whatever else I can think of, but at least I can still be here on the island with Richard and the kids. I’ll have a roof over my head, even if it does leak now and then. Better than being on the street. I don’t want to have to compete with Ron on 61^st and Broadway! 

“Fine,” I say, grabbing a pen from my desk. “I’ll sign your lease, but at least fix the hole in my bathroom ceiling.” I scribble my signature across the lease and hand it back to him.

“Sure,” he says as he pushes off of the recliner and waddles his 300 lb frame out the door. “Next week. I’ll take care of it next week.”

I shut the door after him and blow out a big breath. Exasperated is mild for what I’m really feeling. How am I going to pay for this and assisted living, too?