“This!” she announces proudly, pulling up a picture on her phone. Prince lifts his head from his doggy bed, and I bend down and pet his little curlicue shih tzu head. He puts his head down, then pops up again when I gasp. I can't help it. It's way more beautiful than I could ever have imagined, nestled in a corner of a beautiful brick building, illuminated by one of those aged streetlights you’d imagine came from Mary Poppins.
“Oh my God,” Madison says, voicing my own thoughts. “It’s gorgeous.”
“This place hasn’t been available as a storefront in thirty-five years,” Allie says. “It was a mom-and-pop bakery, but the owners finally retired. Look at this—high ceilings, huge front-facing windows, and this amazing open floor plan. Not only that, it’s the only commercial storefront on this side of town.”
Boston is known for its antiquated buildings and cobblestoned streets, high-end boutiques, and foot traffic.
“And,” Allie says triumphantly, “almost half of what we expected to pay.”
“Half?” I ask. “Are you sure? What’s wrong with it? Is it haunted? Shitty WiFi?” I give her a hard look. “Did you sleep with the landlord already?”
She shakes her head. “Nope. The nice old man who met with me said he just wanted a nice, wholesome tenant.”
“Wait, you already met with him?” Madison says, her brows drawing together with an uncharacteristically angry scowl. "What happened to all of us doing things together?"
“It was an accident, I swear,” Allie says, her eyes widening. “Listen, I was doing some shopping in a nearby store, and just happened to see the ‘for rent’ sign. So I went over, and… well. Took a little peek. How was I supposed to know the landlord was there?"
I frown, but I don't much care that she did this before she spoke with us. We need a place, and we need a place soon.
“I dunno… seems fishy,” Madison says, clearly not trusting the low rate. Boston is one of the most expensive places in the country. “Did you take a look at the other places nearby? Anything else that seems a little off? Is there, like, a tattoo parlor/vape shop and no one comes during the day? One of those weird office park churches?”
She shakes her head but doesn’t meet our eyes. She’s glued to her phone, flipping through the pictures.
“Nope, nope, nope! None of the above. I promise you, it's just a beautiful place. The landlord’s an older man, and he really wants someone to come in and rent it. He hasn't been able to get anybody because the economy has been pretty rough, but you know if the three of us pool our resources we can totally pull it off. I mean, we still have… how much money left over from our last client?”
“Plenty," I tell her. My job as treasurer is to make sure that we are in the money. Last year, we incorporated to prevent liability and to save taxes. And now, we’ll open up our business with the seed money that Madison inherited from her father. This was our plan from the beginning. Seed money plus investments.
"Finances are not going to be a problem.”
Allie nods. “Perfect. So shall we go have a look, then?”
Occasionally, she lapses into this weird archaic language. I used to think it was cute when we were younger and we read antiquated novels together, but now I just like to tease her.
“We shall," I say, finishing off my chocolate pop.
“Waitaminute,” Madison says all at once, narrowing her eyes on Allie’s phone. “Go back.”
Allie blinks, and is it my imagination, or is that a deer-in-the-headlights look?
“What?”
Madison points to the screen. “Three frames back.”
Frames, like the private investigators we are. I beam.
Allie flips back, biting her lip.
“There!” Madison says triumphantly. “Zoom in.”
Allie zooms in, and I gasp.
“Oh my God,” I breathe. “Is that Miguel Santiago? Next door? The Miguel Santiago? Is that his restaurant bar?” Miguel Santiago, Boston’s most notorious bachelor, so notorious no one even knows if he’s eligible.
“One of them,” Allie mutters.
“Why didn’t you say that before?” I’m on my feet, pacing. “We’d share space with Miguel Santiago?” Something isn’t right. There’s a catch, there has to be.
“Well…” Allie looks away and exhales a deep breath, then finally looks back at us. “Okay so yes. We would. And the reason why I didn’t mention it before is because the man is a class A douchebag and actively plotting against us taking this space.”
“Already?” I say, throwing up my hands. “He hasn’t even seen how neurotic we are yet.”
“Or sampled one of my cookies!” Madison says.
“Or tried a session of Bikram yoga,” Allie says with a sigh. “Might clear his negative energy.”
“Can we circle back to ‘actively plotting against us taking this space?’” I say.
Allie nods. “So apparently he didn’t want anyone to use this space. Wanted it for his own, to buy out the whole thing. He just happened to hear that I was meeting with Mr. Scott, and the next thing I know, he’s storming in like he owns the place.”