I heard Stan's voice, and then Jacob's, the two of them squabbling, as I came up from the basement. They stood outside on the stoop, the front door—the one with the word "fuck" painted on it—slightly open. I shuffled over to see if I could accidentally overhear what the problem was.
"...don't know if you can even afford it."
"Vic's going in on it with me. Between the two of us? We'll see what the bank says."
"And you realize the amount of work it's going to take to bring it into a livable condition?"
"I can see that."
"And here you busted my balls over a few roaches."
"Stan ... don't push your luck."
My flashlight had been going for quite a while and was starting to dim. I shone it on the wall Jacob had been caressing while he was looking at me with his big, earnest eyes and asking me if we could keep the place. "Think Smart—Think Safe!" said a jaunty poster in turquoise script letters.
"The thing I don't get," said Stan, his raised voice filtering in through the open door, "is that of all the available properties on the north side, you end up asking me for the place that no one can sell, on account of its reputation for being haunted."
END
PsyCop 3: Body and Soul Page 14