My Landlady Tried to Frame Me, but the Comments Saved Me

My roommate, Claire Lane, hadn't come home in three days. Then our landlady blocked my doorway with Claire's suitcase in her arms. She said Claire had already moved out and told me to sign Claire's move-out confirmation for her. Just as I picked up the pen, rows of red text suddenly appeared before my eyes, floating like real-time comments on a livestream. [Don't sign! She never left!] [That isn't Claire's suitcase. There's evidence inside.] [The moment you sign, that paper will prove she left of her own free will.] [When the police get to the basement storage room, she'll say the key was in your hands the whole time.] The landlady pushed the pen into my hand. "It's only one signature. You're roommates, aren't you? Sign for her so I can refund her security deposit." I put the pen back on the table. "Linda, I can't copy someone else's signature. I'm not signing this." Chapter 1 "Nina, sign Claire's move-out form for her." Linda Walsh, my landlady, stood outside the door and held the form out to me. Her other hand rested on a silver suitcase at her feet. It was a large case. A small padlock hung from the zipper, and a dark brown smear clung to the edge of the clasp. That smear of color was why I didn't dare reach for the paper. Linda pushed the form closer. "She's already moved out. Her things are packed. All that's left is this signature." I didn't take it. "When did Claire move out?" Linda hesitated half a beat. "Last night. She had a flight to catch and was in a rush. She didn't have time to tell you." "The day before yesterday, she told me her pay hadn't come through, that she couldn't afford the next three months' rent, and that she wanted to ask you for a few extra days." Linda pulled the paper back, and the politeness went out of her voice. "Then I don't know what to tell you. All I know is she told me she was done renting." More lines drifted across my vision. [Don't believe her. Nobody's been able to reach Claire for three days.] [Don't touch that suitcase.] [The landlady dragged it into the basement in the middle of the night.] [The cameras broke at a very convenient time.] I kept my hand on the door handle and didn't let her in. Linda held out the pen too. "You two share a room. You're close. What's the harm in signing for her? It's not like you're signing her life away." "Close or not, I can't sign for her." I narrowed the gap in the door a little more. "She flew out last night. How is she supposed to come back and sign?" "When she turns her phone on, send her a digital copy and let her sign it herself." Linda's voice went cold. "Nina, what exactly are you implying?" She kicked the suitcase. A heavy, dull thud rolled across the tiles. I looked at the case and pointed. "That isn't Claire's. She only has one suitcase, a pink one covered in band stickers." Linda gripped the handle. "You know exactly how many suitcases she has?" "We share a room." Linda stared at me for a few seconds and changed her tune. "Fine. Don't sign, then." She bent and grabbed the handle. The case lifted off the floor for a second and dropped back down hard. She gritted her teeth and jerked her chin at me. "Help me take it down to the storage room." The comments came faster. [Don't touch it!] [Touch it and your fingerprints are on it.] [That's exactly what she wants.] I put my hands behind my back. "No. I'm not moving it. It isn't mine." She took a step toward me. "Let me tell you something. This apartment is mine. Do you want to keep renting it or not?" I looked up at her. "I do. But I won't sign for someone else, and I won't touch someone else's stuff." Mrs. Boyd next door heard the noise and opened her door. "What's all the shouting?" Linda turned to her at once. "Claire's moved out, and Nina refuses to sign the form for her. Now she's claiming there's something wrong with my suitcase." Mrs. Boyd joined in. "Nina, don't make such a big deal out of it. Cut Linda some slack." I stayed in the doorway. Linda slapped the form down on the shoe cabinet. "If you don't sign today, don't blame me when I change the locks tomorrow." I picked up my phone. "Then I'll call the police." Linda's voice shot up. "You wouldn't dare." I lit the screen. My thumb hovered over 911. She glanced at Mrs. Boyd, then leaned close to my ear. "Nina, don't be so curious. Some things, once you know them, you may not make it out." Chapter 2 Mrs. Boyd called after her. "Linda, what's that supposed to mean?" Linda straightened up and said, loudly, "Just a joke." She dragged the suitcase toward the elevator. This time she didn't ask for my help. The wheels caught and stuttered over the tiles. I held the door and didn't follow. The comments drifted past. [Follow her.] [Not too close. Get it on video.] [Don't take the elevator. From the stairwell you can see which floor she goes to.] I opened the camera and filmed her through the security door. The elevator doors closed. The numbers dropped from five to one, paused, then lit up at B1. My heart sank. There was a row of storage rooms in our basement. Most tenants didn't have keys. Only landlords and building management had access. I called Claire. Her phone was still off. Our last texts were from three days ago. Claire: Nina, I might be late tonight. The landlady says she's bringing people to see the place. It's annoying. I had written back: You haven't given notice, have you? She never replied. Linda said she moved out last night. But Claire had been silent for three days. Claire had once given me her mother's number when I picked up a package for her. I found it and called. It rang a long time before anyone picked up. I said, "Hello, Mrs. Lane. This is Nina Shaw, Claire's roommate. She hasn't been home for three days. Has she been in touch with you?" After a two-second pause, she said, "No. She said she'd been working late. What's happened?" I stared at the elevator display, still showing B1, and fought to keep my voice steady. "The landlady says she gave notice and moved out. But all her things are still here. Something's wrong." Mrs. Lane's voice began to shake. "She didn't answer me yesterday either. Nina, tell me the truth. Has something happened to Claire?" I kept my worst fears to myself. "I'm calling the police now." "All right. I'll get a ticket and come right away." I hung up and dialed 911. The dispatcher asked me to explain what had happened. I told her Claire was missing, that the landlady had asked me to sign Claire's move-out form in her name, and about the silver suitcase that wasn't Claire's. After making sure I was safe, she told me to stay out of the basement. Officers were on their way. I had barely hung up when the residents' group chat lit up. Linda Walsh: @Nina 5F, your roommate Claire has given notice and moved out. You refused to cooperate with the move-out, and now you're accusing me of hiding things. Everyone, be careful renting with people like this. Don't get stuck with a roommate like her. Mrs. Boyd: I heard the whole thing. Nina went too far. The landlady asked her to sign a form, and she threatened to call the police. Lee 3F: Girls these days. Too many crime shows. Linda Walsh: I've been a landlady for over 10 years and never met anyone this difficult. Claire herself said she couldn't stand her. That's why she left in the night. I stared at "Claire couldn't stand her" and thought about last week, when we had split an order of hot pot soup base. I took screenshots of every message and saved them. Before I could put the phone down, someone was pounding on the door. Linda shouted through it. "Nina, open up. I know you're in there. Did you call the police?" I put my back against the door. "Linda, whatever it is can wait until the police get here." There were a few seconds of silence. Then Linda laughed. "Fine. You'd better pray the police find Claire first." Chapter 3 By the time the officers arrived, Linda was gone from the door. There were two of them, Officer Chandler and Officer Jennings. Chandler had me tell it from the beginning. After looking at my photo of the form, he asked, "She wanted you to sign in her place?" "Yes. I didn't." Jennings glanced into the apartment. "Claire's things are still here?" I took them into the bedroom. Claire's bed was still unmade. An unopened sleep mask lay by the pillow. A half-finished cup of boba sat on the desk, gone sour. Her favorite white shirt hung in the closet. She wouldn't have left these behind. Chandler took photos and asked, "Where's Ms. Walsh now?" "I don't know. She took the silver suitcase down to B1, then came back and pounded on my door." Jennings called building management. Hugh, the property manager, arrived sweating. "The basement cameras went out three days ago. They haven't been fixed." Chandler's pen stopped. "The day Claire went missing?" Hugh's voice grew less certain. "It's an old building. Things break." Jennings asked, "Does Ms. Walsh have a key to the basement?" "Yes. She rents storage unit B13." Chandler closed his notebook. "Show us." I followed them into the elevator. The doors opened onto damp air. Several of the basement lights were out. Hugh went first, keys clenched in his hand. "B13 is at the far end." He stopped at an iron door at the end of the corridor, with a yellowed "13" pasted to it. The lock was new. Hugh tried the management key twice. It didn't budge. "She must have changed it." Jennings asked me, "You're sure she brought the suitcase down here? What did it look like?" "Silver, about 28 inches, a lock on the zipper, and a black scuff on one corner." As I finished, a voice came from behind us. Linda, in a different jacket, stood blocking the entrance with a ring of keys. "Nina, you brought the police to break into my storage unit?" Chandler turned. "Linda Walsh? Please open the door." "On what grounds?" "We have a report of a missing tenant, and today you tried to have someone else sign her move-out confirmation. We need to see inside your storage unit." Linda stood in front of the door and didn't move. "So the police can just go through people's things?" "You can refuse. Then we'll follow protocol." She looked past both officers and sneered at me. "Nina, you really are something." I said nothing. She took out her keys. "Fine, I'll open it. Let's see what you find." The iron door swung open. Inside were pieces of old furniture, cardboard boxes, and a folding bed. No silver suitcase. Hugh let out a breath. Linda spread her hands. "See? Nothing." Jennings switched on a flashlight and searched the room inch by inch. Beneath the damp, moldy smell was a cloying, sour stench. I fought down my nausea and stepped inside. In the corner was a faint drag mark running from the back of the room all the way to the door. I followed it to the folding bed. The comments drifted past. [The suitcase has been moved.] [Look under the folding bed.] [That brown on the drag mark is blood.] I pointed. "Officer, look under the bed." Linda cut in. "What are you making up now?" Jennings crouched and shone the flashlight under the bed. A few seconds later he drew out a small scrap of black cloth embroidered with a white kitten. It was the pocket from Claire's pajamas. Linda's mouth opened, but no explanation came. Chandler said, "Ms. Walsh, explain this." Linda pointed at me. "She planted it! She and Claire fought every day. If Claire's missing, she's behind it!" Linda lunged. Jennings blocked her, and she shouted at me over his shoulder. "You were the last one to see Claire before she disappeared, weren't you?"