A break-in in our apartment

Rita and I shared an apartment that was rented by Ercosa for it's temporary American staff. Before we came, it was used by a young man who, like us, was sent from Chemetco to Ercosa on a temporary basis. Back in Illinois he had originally been hired because our brilliant management thought his story of stealing from a pizza delivery guy showed "initiative". Nevertheless, they took it badly when he showed the same initiative again and stole from them; they fired him. He left the apartment without a forwarding address, just disappeared. Later Rita moved into the apartment, and eventually I arrived. 

One day we moved one of the pictures in the hallway and found a $100 bill taped to the back of it. We immediately checked the back of every picture in the place, but there wasn't any more money. However...there was a closet in the bedroom we were not using, and nobody had a key to. We never worried about it, but now we thought it would be a good idea to force it open. We found a couple of shirts, some stolen items like a computer and discs, and a big salami. Fortunately the salami was dried and didn't smell. We threw the salami in the trash and returned the computer and other IT stuff to Ercosa. We didn't have an address to send anything to the guy who had the apartment before us, so we pitched most of the shirts and split the money.

Flash forward few weeks, and one evening Rita and I came home late. Our front door was unlocked (although we had locked it when we left) and inside we found the missing thief, sitting in the living room, in the dark, waiting for us. Oops. He was nice enough, but he sure as heck shouldn't have been in our apartment. We carried on a somewhat stilted conversation with him as we put our groceries away.  He said he had decided to stay in Spain awhile to learn the language, but had gotten a trouble with the police somewhere down south; something about a hit-and-run accident, which he assured us wasn't really his fault. Now he was thinking about staying north to avoid the police, and trying to make a living by teaching English. In the kitchen Rita whispered that she was nervous about him being there and I whispered back that I would handle him if he started any trouble. That was nonsense, he was a tall, strong young man and could have been a real problem for us if he wanted. Apparently, though, he just stopped by to let himself into our apartment to visit. I suspect he came back to check out his closet and discovered his stolen goods were gone. If someone less harmless than Rita and I had been there, things may have ended differently. But eventually he said goodnight and left. We locked the door behind him, although we knew now that he still had his key - the next day we had the lock changed. We never saw him again, but there was no doubt he knew exactly who found his stuff - the night we found him in our apartment, I was wearing one of his shirts!