“Boss, the old guy’s not leaving.” I’d inherited this particular employee from the previous owner of this property. He wasn’t the smartest tool in the shed, but he came in handy when things got a little rough between tenants at times. It beat calling the police every five minutes.
“What’s the problem now, Mo?” I asked, resigned to a tale of woe.
He rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, see, there’s this grandson, says his name is Nolan Flannigan. He’s visiting and claims his granddad is too sick to move. He won’t let me in, threatened to call the cops.”
“I’ll take care of this,” I said. I stood and led the way back to the apartment in question.
I banged on the door. “Landlord. Open up!” I was a big guy with a deep voice that I used to good effect. People didn’t usually mess with me, and
