Late at night, when collecting rent, she knocked …

Nathaniel Cross had only graduated from university six months ago. He rented a place in an old building in the old part of town, worked overtime every day, and drifted through life in a daze. His landlady was a woman named Lydia Whitaker, thirty-nine years old but exceptionally well-preserved, who managed the building’s rent collection on her husband’s behalf. The way she collected rent had the air of a debt collector, her high heels clacking loudly enough to pierce right through the hallway floor. Nathaniel Cross always felt there was some hidden scheme lurking in her eyes whenever she looked at him, but he never imagined that, at the end of this month, Lydia Whitaker would show up at his door for the first time and tell him his rent had to be paid twice.