Now’s the time we smile. Well, not just smile. We have to nod too. Smile and nod. Wrinkle our brows and scribble down notes all sharp and hasty so he feels important; so he thinks we’re hanging on his every word, gulping them all down like cheap cherry wine. No need to listen too hard for the first few minutes because these are his scripted plays. These are the ones Bill Valput tells to every sorry, little inquisitive soul that comes to Valput Properties looking to find answers to questions he won’t even acknowledge exist. Questions about sewage-filled showers and saggy, yellow stained ceilings—holes in walls covered up with plywood and faucets that break off in your hand. Nope, to hear it from him, Bill Valput is Wheeling, West Virginia’s misunderstood landlord with a heart of gold, beset on all sides by pernicious tenants who take a perverse glee in…
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