My grandmother and I moved into Apartment 3B at the historic Fenwick Building three weeks ago, adopting a stray hound named Buster who roamed the alley.
The next morning, the apartment still held a faint chill, a lingering memory of the unnatural frost. I tried to explain it to Grandma Martha over lukewarm coffee, but she just rubbed her temples.
“Leo, honey, it was probably just a draft,” she said, her voice strained. “Old buildings do strange things.”
I knew it wasn’t. Buster knew it wasn’t. He refused to lie down anywhere near that part of the wall, opting instead for a sunny patch by the kitchen window.
Just after lunch, a heavy knock rattled our front door.
I peered through the peephole. A man in a dark blue uniform stood there, holding a clipboard. Inspector Arthur Pendelton, his name tag read, Municipal Housing.
I opened the door, a knot tightening in my stomach.
He didn’t offer a greeting, just stared at Buster, who had, of course, chosen that exact moment to let out a low, warning growl from the kitchen.
“Arthur Pendelton, Municipal Housing,” he stated, his voice flat. “I’m here regarding an emergency animal seizure warrant for Apartment 3B.”
Grandma Martha appeared behind me, her face pale. “A seizure warrant? What on earth for?”
Pendelton didn’t look at her. “Received multiple complaints about a dangerous, unregistered animal. Aggressive barking, public menace, potential rabies risk.”
My jaw clenched. “That’s not true! Buster is microchipped, neutered, and he’s never bitten anyone.”
Pendelton just shrugged, a dismissive gesture. “The complaints specify a large hound. Filed by Mr. Gable upstairs. States the dog attacked him in the hallway yesterday morning.”
My mind flashed back to Marcus’s confrontation. He had twisted the truth, made Buster out to be a monster. This was exactly what he wanted.
“He’s fabricating this!” I protested. “Marcus wants Buster gone because he reacts to something in his apartment.”
Pendelton raised an eyebrow, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. “Reactions or not, the warrant is official. I can seize the animal now, or you can face fines and further legal action for non-compliance.”
He took a step into the doorway, his hand reaching for the jamb.
Suddenly, a loud, distinct *tap-tap-tap* echoed from the radiator beside the entrance. Then another. And another. A precise rhythm.
Pendelton’s hand froze mid-air. His face, which had been impassive moments before, suddenly tightened. His eyes darted to the radiator, then quickly back to me, avoiding the metal entirely.
He hesitated, then took a quick step back, out of the apartment threshold.
“Just… bring the dog out, son,” he said, his voice now noticeably less confident, almost a command. “I’ll wait here in the hall. Don’t want any… incidents.”
He clutched his clipboard tighter, his gaze fixed on the hallway floor, anywhere but the radiator or the doorway. The rhythmic tapping continued, a ghost pulse in the silent room.
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