Prometheus Confidential:
The Case of the Vengeful Landlord
Chapter 1
The smell hit me first—cardboard mixed with the faint tang of something metallic. Piles of unopened boxes lined the walls, stacked precariously above my head, turning the kitchen into a forgotten storeroom. Not quite a hoarder’s house yet, but give it a few more years, and he’ll be on TV.
I didn’t want to be here. Six hours in a car, crossing state lines to visit some stranger named Luke? Not exactly how I wanted to spend my weekend. But Todd was relentless. “We need the money,” he kept saying. I asked Todd if we could just meet Luke in a public place—a coffee shop, a library, anywhere but his house—but Todd insisted we’d get more out of him in his own space.
So now here I was, standing in Luke’s cluttered kitchen, while Todd drove off to “research” in town, leaving me to investigate the case all alone. The apartment matched the rest of the building: worn down and cluttered.
Luke lived on the second floor of a two-story building that had once been a roadside motel. From the outside, it looked like something out of a forgotten postcard—peeling paint, weather-worn wood, and a long, narrow balcony that connected the upper apartments. He joked it was the tallest structure in town, and honestly, he might be right. Belle Pointe wasn’t much of a town, just five hundred people and a main street that closed down by sunset.
The apartment building would house ten percent of the town if most of the units weren’t vacant. Luke’s unit was at the far end, a one-bedroom he proudly called a “two-bedroom apartment for the price of a one-bedroom.” The second “bedroom” was a storage room with no windows that he had converted into his sleeping space. Oddly, he’d installed a heavy-duty deadbolt on the inside of the bedroom door. “Keeps the room secure,” he said when I asked about it, but the way his eyes shifted made me think there was more to it than that.
The rest of the apartment was overflowing with stacks of unopened electronics boxes, like the storage room at a Radio Shack. One pile next to the kitchen counter caught my eye: a voice recorder, a static electricity detector, an infrared thermometer gun, and an EMF detector, whatever that was, all still in their original packaging. Luke had probably spent thousands of dollars on devices like these. Another stack held a weather radio, a carbon monoxide detector, and water leak sensors. Practical, sure, but it looked like he’d bought them in bulk and then forgotten they existed.
I wasn’t sure what was stranger—the way he lived surrounded by unopened electronics or the fact that he never seemed to use them.
A high-pitched whir came from behind a closet door, followed by a dull thunk. “The furnace,” Luke said, glancing toward the door. “It’s probably on its last leg.”
The noise lingered, uneven and mechanical, like something grinding against the inside of the wall. I half-expected it to stop completely, but it just kept going. “Does it always sound like that?”
He shrugged. “Pretty much. It’s an old building.”
I leaned against the counter, watching him sit at a small, foldable card table wedged between the kitchen and living room. “You ever have a roommate? Seems like a lot of space for one person.”
“No. I’ve only ever lived by myself. After college, that is.” He adjusted his glasses, his hand pausing at the edge of his scruffy beard. “I like to have a place where I can be alone. If I want to be with people, I can just meet them somewhere.” Luke wasn’t tall, but he was thin, making him appear even smaller amongst the stacks of junk around him.
Snooping through the kitchen, the third cabinet had what I was looking for: the liquor collection. I pulled down a bottle of whiskey and grabbed a glass from the first cabinet. As I poured, I noticed Luke watching me—not annoyed, just quiet, like he didn’t want to interrupt. “Where do people meet up in this town, anyway?”
“Locals go to the bar downtown. There’s ice in the freezer if you want it.” He sounded casual, but something about the way he said it made me pause.
“Do you go to the bar much?”
He shrugged. “Not really. Charlene likes it, though, so I’ll go when she asks.”
I dropped ice into the glass with a clink. “And who’s Charlene? Girlfriend?”
“No,” he said with a small laugh. “I’m not her type. She was the first friend I made here. Met her at the bar the first week I moved in. I didn’t know anyone, and I’m not great at putting myself out there. Luckily, she was so outgoing, or I’d probably have given up on ever making friends here.”
“Got it. Just a friend.”
I moved to the couch, eyeing the stacks of magazines on the left-hand side: Popular Science, Time, Scientific American, and The Atlantic, all piled up in organized stacks. I sat down on the couch and immediately heard a faint creak, like the floor was settling under my weight.
Luke must have noticed, because he said, “Yeah, the floors are weird. Slant a bit in some places. Landlord says it’s the foundation shifting.” He gestured vaguely around the room. “Old building and all.”
“Old is one thing. This place feels … off,” I muttered.
“Ha. Well, you’re not the first person to say that. It was built in the twenties, back when they thought roadside motels were a good idea out here. Nobody’s fixed the wiring since, so watch out for the outlets. Some of them shock you if you’re not careful.”
I looked at the outlets and noticed scorch marks around one of them. “That’s comforting.” I said, gesturing at the charred edge. “What else should I watch out for in this place?”
“The walls are thin. So be careful you don’t say anything you don’t want others to hear.” Luke shifted in his seat and pointed across the kitchen to the bathroom door. “I haven’t seen any, but I’m pretty sure there are mice in the bathroom walls. Sometimes you can hear them scratching around in there. Oh, and don’t lean too hard on the railings outside. A guy fell through a few years ago. Broke his leg.”
I nodded and leaned back, glass in hand, but a chill brushed my neck. I turned toward the window—old, drafty, and letting in more cold air than it kept out. The glass rattled faintly in its frame, as if the wind outside was testing its strength.
“Would it be ok if I met Charlene?”
“She gets off work at six. I can ask her to come over.”
Tha-thunk. The furnace kicked in again, this time with a louder, sharper rattle. Luke glanced toward the closet door but didn’t move to check.
I looked down at my whiskey glass and tapped the rim with my finger. “How about we meet her at the bar instead?”
Luke nodded quickly, almost too quickly. “Sounds good.” He reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone, and started typing. “I’ll let her know.”
I leaned back on the couch, letting my eyes drift over the cluttered apartment again. “So why the two-bedroom setup if it’s just you? Seems like a lot of space for one person.” What I really wanted to know was why he’d turned the smaller, windowless room into his bedroom. Maybe he worked third shift and didn’t like sunlight while he slept.
Luke tugged at his beard, his fingers catching on the streak of grey just below his chin. “The extra space is handy. And it’s quieter in there. No windows means I don’t have to worry about noise or drafts.” He shrugged, but his voice sounded thin, like he wasn’t telling the whole story. “And the landlord’s only charging me for a one-bedroom, so it’s like a free storage unit.” He slipped his phone back into his pocket.
“That he is Greg Harris, right?”
“Uh huh. Mr. Harris owns the building. Does all the maintenance too. Lives in the first unit.” Luke paused, scratching at the streak of grey in his beard. “It’s a double-wide unit, but he lives alone.”
Luke’s voice grew quieter as he added, “I used to think he was just a friendly old guy, you know? The kind who waves at everyone and remembers your name. But now…” He trailed off, his fingers fidgeting with the edge of the card table.
“Now what?” I prompted.
His gaze darted to the floor. “Now, I’m not sure it’d be a good idea to be alone with him.”
Todd and I briefly met Greg when we arrived. The moment Todd pulled into the parking lot, Greg stepped out of his apartment door, his overalls and stained white shirt giving him the look of someone who’d been working in dirt all day—or hadn’t bothered with laundry in weeks.
“This lot’s for tenants only. No empty spaces for visitors,” Greg said, his voice flat but firm.
Todd glanced around the mostly empty lot, his brow furrowing. “Looks like there are plenty of spaces available.”
Greg jabbed a finger toward the No Parking Tow Zone sign. “If you park in one, I’ll have it towed.”
Todd unlocked the doors so I could hop out before driving off. As I walked toward the building, Greg didn’t budge, his eyes following me the entire way. He stood so still; it was almost unnatural, like he was waiting for something.
Looking out Luke’s window now, I spotted Greg standing in the parking lot again, his gaze fixed on the apartment. My stomach tightened as a chill ran down my spine.
I turned back to Luke, shaking off the feeling. “And remind me again—you hired us because you suspect he’s entering your unit without permission?”
Luke shifted in his seat, his hands gripping the edge of the table. “At first, yeah. I thought he was just… nosy. Like, maybe he was letting himself in when I wasn’t here.”
I nodded slowly, keeping my voice neutral. “And now?”
Luke hesitated, his fingers tightening around the edge of the card table. “Now… I don’t know if I should say.”
I leaned back, waiting. “Luke, if you want my help, I need to know what you’re dealing with. Whatever it is, just tell me.”
His eyes flicked toward the window, then back to the floor. He swallowed hard, his voice barely audible. “I think—I think it’s worse than that.”
“How much worse?”
He exhaled shakily, his words coming slower now. “You know that feeling you get when you’re walking down the street at night, and you can hear someone behind you? Like, no matter how fast you go, they’re still there?”
I leaned forward. “So, he’s stalking you?”
“No. Maybe. I don’t know.” Luke stood abruptly and checked the front door to confirm it was still locked. He rubbed his hands together, as if trying to stay warm. “I know it sounds crazy,” Luke said, his voice cracking. “But… I think he’s trying to kill me.”
I didn’t move for a moment, letting his words settle. The room felt colder somehow, the rhythmic scraping of the furnace filling the silence. “Alright, Luke,” I said, leaning forward. “Take a breath. Let’s start from the beginning.”
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