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Page 139“That’s because we aren’t renting from the Adelsons. We signed a rental agreement with Calvin Sanchez.”
“I see. I’m not familiar with the name.”
“I have a copy if you don’t believe me.”
“We’d appreciate it.”
Henry and I exchanged a quick look as she crossed to a cardboard box jammed with files. She withdrew a sheaf of papers clipped together, which she handed to Henry. The top document was five or six pages in length, with a carbon copy of a receipt clipped to the front. Henry removed the paper clip and handed me the bottom sheet, which looked like a rental application.
“This is the application you filled out for Mr. Sanchez?”
“It certainly is,” she said.
While Henry leafed through the rental agreement, I ran an eye down the application, which included their prior address. I made a mental note of the house number and street: 1122 Lily Avenue. Joseph’s employer was the Perdido Community Development Department, which more or less corresponded to Edna’s claim that he’d worked for the city before his retirement. Under Spouse’s Employer, Edna had written N/A, meaning “Not Applicable.”
“We paid first and last months’ rent and a cleaning deposit. The receipt’s right there on top.”
“Well, I’m sure I don’t know.”
“Well, where do you send your rent checks if you don’t know where he is?”
“We do it by direct deposit.”
Henry was losing patience. “It might be best if we spoke to him before we go on. Do you have his phone number?”
“I suppose we have one somewhere, but we haven’t had the need to get in touch.”
This is where I opened my big mouth. Even in the moment, I knew it was ill-advised, but I couldn’t help myself. “There isn’t any Calvin Sanchez. This house is owned by Dale and Trish Adelson.”
“Be that as it may,” she said, “we’ve lived here for three months. We’re good neighbors. I don’t see how anyone can have a complaint.”
“How about the complaint that you’re in this house illegally?”
“I don’t need a law degree. I have a degree in common sense. If you can show us an agreement with the Adelsons’ signatures on it instead of your imaginary Mr. Sanchez, we’ll concede the point.”
“The point isn’t yours to address one way or the other,” she said primly.
“You want the Adelsons to fly out?”
“That’s up to them. We’re not hurting anyone. We’re looking after the property. We live here in exchange for upkeep and maintenance.”
“You can’t just do that unilaterally. The Adelsons haven’t agreed to anything.”
“If your Mr. and Mrs. Adelson want us out of here, they’ll have to evict us.”
“I’m sure that can be arranged,” I said snappishly. Henry gave me a warning look, but it was too late for that.
Edna said, “To date, no one has served us with a notice of any kind. If you do serve such a notice, we will contest it. It’s clear you’re retaliating because of a misunderstanding about a hose bib, of all things. You’re discriminating against us because of our age and my poor husband’s disability.”
“So now you’re citing the law? Well, let me cite one for you as well. We are tenants, and as such, we are not without our rights. Even if your Mr. and Mrs. Adelson win a judgment, we’d be entitled to remain on the premises because of hardship. We qualify for low-income housing.”
“You can’t move into a house without permission.”
“But that’s what we’ve done. We’ve made no secret of the fact that we’re living here. This is simply the first time you thought to question us.”
“This isn’t an argument between us, Edna. We’ll call the Adelsons and tell them what you’ve admitted. They can fly out and deal with it in the next couple of days.”
A smile touched her lips and dimples appeared. “You are setting yourselves up for a lawsuit for wrongful eviction. If the Adelsons take us to court and lose, they will have to pay court costs and our attorney’s fees, which I can assure you will be substantial. This will be a long-drawn-out procedure—very lengthy—with countless delays—and it won’t come cheap. If you think it’s easy to get tenants out, you’re mistaken.”