A Favour with a Catch
Monday
I sat in the office canteen today, lost in a swirl of thoughts, barely noticing the lukewarm cup of tea in front of me. I hadnt touched it. My thumb sped across my phone screen, flipping through one rental listing after another, growing more and more anxious with every swipe. Not a single flat seemed to fit the bill.
“Well, thats another dead end,” I muttered to myself, tossing the phone onto the table. “Exams in a fortnight and still no place to stay. Brilliant.”
Opposite me was Susan, from the department across, leisurely stirring her yoghurt. She seemed to listen intently, head slightly cocked.
“Havent you tried that hostel you were at last year?” Susans eyebrow arched with mild curiosity, not quite comprehending my insistence on going to university so far from home.
“Its closed for refurbishment,” I sighed, swiping away yet another dodgy listing. “Everything left is either ridiculous on the rent, or in questionable areas. Some of these adverts dont even have photosjust a postcode and a couple of vague lines. How is anyone supposed to decide like that?”
Susan sat for a moment, her spoon resting against the pot, before her face suddenly brightened, as if shed just remembered something brilliant.
“Hang onIm being daft, my Aunt Mary actually lives in that city! The house is in a lovely part of town. Shes only just gone abroad for two monthssaid I could let someone stay, provided theyre sensible.”
I slowly looked up from my phone, hope gently flickering inside, though I couldn’t quite shake a sliver of doubt. The offer was so abrupt it took a moment to process.
“Seriously? How would” I started, still trying to wrap my head around it.
“Easy as you like!” Susan cut in, obviously thrilled to help. “You just get the keys from the neighbour; shes expecting someone to turn up. Ill ring her to sort it all out. Aunt says as long as you keep the place tidy, youre welcome. Youre responsible enoughIm sure there wont be any issues.”
I hesitated. It seemed a bit too convenienta free flat in a decent part of town, no agents, no extra expenses. But there was something off about Susans sudden magnanimity. I studied her more closely; she was grinning even wider than normal, pushing this idea with surprising gusto.
Susan always did have a strange obsession with office gossip and often went out of her way to meddle in others affairs, sometimes a little too eagerly. Her over-the-top keenness today felt almost forcedshe was pushing unusually hard.
“I dont know” I said tentatively, picking my words with care. “Feels a bit uncomfortable, taking such a favour. I dont even know your aunt. What if something happens? Or I break something?”
“Oh, dont be silly!” Susan waved my worries aside. “Shes as sweet as they come, honestly. No hasslesno letting agents, no deposits, no paperwork. Think of it as me helping you out. Where else are you going to get a deal like it?”
I lapsed into silence, mentally weighing up pros and cons. With only two weeks until my exams, I still hadnt solved my accommodation crisis. This really did sound like a perfect solutionexcept for Susans pushy attitude and her knack for sticking her nose into other peoples business. I couldnt shake the feeling that there was more to Susans offer than sheer kindness.
I pictured myself in a strangers flat, constantly worrying about damaging something, always on alert, worried about unspoken rules. And then there would be Susan, probably checking in, expecting reports and explanations for every small thing It just didnt sit right.
“Thank you, honestly,” I eventually said, trying to sound as grateful as I could. “Youre being really kind. If Im completely stuck, Ill let you know. I mean it.”
Susan paused for a split second, her smile faltering before snapping back into place. Something unreadable flashed in her eyes, as though shed counted on a different answer.
“As you wish,” she replied breezily, going back to her yoghurt. “Just trying to help. But Ill give my aunts neighbour the heads-up anyway.”
TuesdayFriday
I doubled down on the flat hunting, going through endless listings across various platforms, making calls, arranging viewings. The market was flooded with options, but digging even a tiny bit deeper always revealed some catchexorbitant deposits, harsh tenancy contracts, or properties in iffy parts of town.
Still, I kept at it. And just as my spirits began to wane, I struck lucky.
One site had a simple ad for a one-bed flat. The pictures werent flashy, but that didnt matter. Bright walls, modest but practical furnishings, a clean window looking out onto a small greengood enough for me. Best of all, only a fifteen-minute walk to the university.
I rang the listed number. The landladys voice was gentle and straightforwardno hard sell.
“You can have it for a month if you like. Simple written agreement, nothing complicated. All I ask is you look after the place.”
We arranged a viewing. The real-life flat was even nicer: compact kitchen with a new hob and fridge, a tidy desk by the window, a proper bed. The quiet and order were exactly what I needed to study.
“Just one thingplease keep noise down at night,” the landlady, Mrs. Evans, told me before handing over the keys. “Most people here enjoy the peace.”
They were the only rules. I agreed readily and moved in.
The next few days passed in a steady, pleasant routine. I went to lectures in the mornings, then evenings were spent at home with easy dinners and revision at my desk. The kitchen turned into my refuge, brewing proper English tea, reheating leftovers, or just watching life in the courtyard below when the studying got too much.
Some evenings, Id step out onto the little balcony for a breath of chilly air and listen as dusk settled quietly, disturbed only by the odd bark or the laughter of kids. Standing there, I thought about Susans offer and realised how wise Id been to trust my instincts. Here there were just the rules in my contractno surprises. Whos to say what mightve happened in that other place? Some things are better left unknown.
Exam time rolled on. I worked through my notes, recapped all my modules, and settled into the new flat as if it really was minealmost forgetting the odd canteen conversation that had started this all, until my mobile rang.
The Unexpected Call
“Tom Howard? This is Detective Turner from the city station. We need to arrange a meeting regarding the flat at Pine Street, Number 21. Theres been a burglary.”
No emotion in his voice, but the words hit me like a punch to the gut. I was just home from my last exam, keys still in hand, relieved the stressful weeks were behind meuntil this.
“I never lived there!” I blurted, hearing how frantic I sounded. “I rented somewhere else entirelyI promise, I never even set foot in that place.”
“We understand, Mr. Howard,” said Detective Turner, his tone steady. “We just need to ask a few questionsits routine. Could you come by the station today?”
I glanced at the timefive oclock. If I refused, it would only look suspicious.
“Alright, Ill come. When shall I be there?”
He gave a time and finished the call.
At the Station
The journey into the station was a blur. My legs shook as I climbed the steps. They showed me into a modest interview room where Detective Turnera sensible-looking man with glassesspread out several photographs. Jewellery: rings, bracelets, a delicate necklace, each with a number underneath.
“These belonged to the owner of the property,” the detective explained. “According to her, these went missing while she was away. She left the flat in the care of her niece, who arranged for someone to stayyou, apparently.”
A mix of anger and disbelief rose within menot at Turner but at the situation.
“I never even went inside,” I insisted. “I knew about the offer, but turned it down. I took another flat in a totally different area. I have the tenancy agreement to prove it.”
“If youd be so kind,” the detective nodded.
I fished out my folder and handed over the signed lease. Turner checked every detailaddresses, dates, signaturesand made a few notes.
“Very good. This looks in order. One last thingcan anyone vouch for your whereabouts during that period?”
I paused, then remembered Mrs. Evans, my landlady. Shed checked in a few times for a chat over tea, so she could definitely verify everything.
“Certainly!” I said with relief, dialling her on the spot. “Mrs. Evans, helloits Tom. The police have called me in regarding a different flat, one I never stayed at. Would you be able to confirm officially I’ve been renting from you all month?”
She didnt answer straight away, but within seconds her voice was reassuring.
“Of course, love. Where are you now? I can come down, or you can put the officer on and I’ll speak to him now.”
A call with Mrs. Evans sufficedTurners questions were direct, and she answered calmly, backing me up and even mentioning the CCTV in our block.
The detective thanked her and said he might formally request a statement, which she happily agreed to.
Piecing the Puzzle
An hour later, Turner interviewed the neighbour of that mysterious Pine Street flat. She was sharp and observant; she recalled unusual visitorsa tall woman with a dark coat, clearly not me.
“She came during the day,” the neighbour said, squinting a little as if playing the scenes in her mind. “At first I thought it was the lodger, but when I looked closer, it wasnt him. And she had her own keys. I was surprised, as I thought the new tenant would get them from me.”
She went on: the same woman was seen snooping about, entering and leaving quietly, clearly not wanting to be seen. These pieces started forming a clear picture.
The Truth Unfolds
With witness statements and documents in hand, Turner called Susan in for an interview. She arrived with all the confidence in the world, acting as if nothing serious could possibly be going on.
“I dont understand the fuss,” she said, a hint of annoyance creeping in. “I was just trying to help a colleague. Suggested a placehardly a crime, is it?”
Turner laid out the factsneighbours evidence, my tenancy contract, CCTV footage the block also had. He kept his tone calm, giving Susan all the time she needed to comprehend.
She stuck to her story at first, denying everythingsaying shed never been to the flat, didnt have the keys, barely remembered the address. Still, as Turner calmly highlighted each contradiction, her certainty faded. She fidgeted, avoiding his gaze, fingers anxiously tugging at her sleeve.
Finally, hearing the neighbours direct account and with evidence mounting, Susan faltered.
“I I just wanted to help,” she whispered, eyes averted, voice trembling. “It was just I had the keys for ages. I knew where Aunt Mary kept her jewellery. I didnt even think youd turn the offer downI just needed the money”
She trailed off, voice thick. Turner simply listened, hands folded, projecting nothing but calm and focus.
“You understand you committed a serious crime,” Turner said quietly. “You set out to frame someone else, too. Did you consider the consequences?”
Susan flinched and nodded mutely, unable to answer out loud.
Family Matters
At that moment, the door opened and an older woman enteredclearly Susans aunt, Aunt Mary. There was steel in her voice, though disappointment and pain flickered in her eyes.
“I came as you asked,” she said, glancing at Susan and then at Turner. “I gave Susan keys thinking she was responsible. I want an explanationI need to know how it came to this.”
Susan looked up at her aunt, eyes full of tears, but Marys words were measured, steady:
“You know, those pieces arent just things. Theyre memories of my mother, your grandmother. How could you?”
Susan broke down, shoulders shaking, words spilling through the tears: “I never thought itd go this far. I thought Id get away with itIm so sorry. I just wanted I thought itd be easy”
Mary kept her composure but couldnt hide her hurt. After a moment, she turned to Turner.
“I dont want my niece sent to prison,” she said firmly. “She did a terrible thing, but shes my family. Ill withdraw my complaint if everything is returnedcompletely.”
That broke Susan. The next day, she brought the stolen jewellery back, every piece returned intact and examined by her aunt, who silently nodded.
Consequences
Susan didnt escape other repercussions. The police closed the investigation due to reconciliation, but the story got around. The company HR heard of it (as these things do make their way through office whispers), and after a brief inquiry, they dismissed Susan the following week.
The head of her department didnt mince words.
“We cant retain someone involved in theft and who implicated a colleague,” he said, eyes on the paperworkofficial, emotionless. “Your contract will be terminated as of today. Please collect your things.”
She left quietly, no goodbyes; a few colleagues watched, but none stepped in. Most just got on with their work, and Susan slipped out, belongings in handa notebook, coffee mug, a few scattered supplies.
Aftermath
I only learnt how things truly ended a little later. The police rang to say the matter was resolved and no claim stood against me. Then, downstairs in the corridor one day, I ran into someone from HR who mentioned Susans dismissal.
I felt relief, mostlythat it was all over and my reputation untarnishedbut sadness, too. After all, Susan and I had shared countless cups of tea, the usual light-hearted banter of office life. It was hard to think that someone Id trusted could do something so underhanded.
A week on, a letter came through my door. Plain white envelope, the sort you could only recognise by the neat handwriting insideAunt Marys. Folded within was a brief note and a small envelope with some cash.
“Dear Tom,” she wrote, “I want to offer my sincerest apologies for what happened. I know words and this little sum cant undo all the trouble, but I hope youll accept it as a token for the inconvenience you endured. Im deeply sorry. Please know it comes from the heart, not as a payoff but a small gesture of goodwill.”
I sat a long while with the letter and the cash. I felt no urge to punish anyone, just a quiet, deep weariness over the whole mess. In the end, I tucked the letter into a drawer and sent the money straight to a local hospice appeal.
Im grateful I listened to my gut in the end. Its a lesson I wont forget: if something seems too good to be trueor if a favour feels like its got a catchtrust your instincts. In this case, they saved more than just my peace of mind.
