Robert Ellis - The Dead Room

Eddie checked his watch. It was almost nine-thirty. The sports club across the street would be closing in another half hour. He needed a seat at that table and he needed it now.

He looked back at the students and could tell they knew he was staring at them. He crossed the room, watching them avert their eyes as he approached them. Then he stopped, standing over the table and looking straight down. At first they giggled like he was crazy. But after a few moments, the giggling stopped and they finally decided to leave. He heard the boy mutter the word weird as they collected their backpacks and walked toward the door in slow motion.

Eddie didn’t care. He finally had command of the table and sat down facing the window. The seat remained warm and this bothered him a little. It felt like contact, and he tried to ignore it. Glancing at the table, he noted the empty cups left behind, sugar strewn across the Formica, droplets of cappuccino splashed here and there. He would ignore this, too, he decided. He wouldn’t touch the table. He’d only sit before it so that he could gaze out the window.

She was working out on the Stair Master.

He could see her in the sports club across the street from his seat at the window. Up and down, up and down she strode. Proud, perhaps strong willed, perfect in every detail.

He’d first noticed her two months ago, but had been saving her for an evening just like this one. She worked out three nights a week and looked like she took good care of herself. Her blond hair was tied back at the moment, but he’d seen it down and knew it to be the right length. Her breasts were a little big, but she was only twenty and he guessed it would be a few more years before they broke loose from their moorings and swayed toward the ground. Still, it was her face, of course, that singled her out from all the rest. Her mouth and cheek bones. The way her eyes were set beside her nose-not too narrow and not too far apart. Perfect in every detail, he repeated inside his head. He didn’t know her name yet, but he would.

She got off the Stair Master and appeared to be panting. He watched as she wiped the sweat away from her skin with a towel. Then she stepped away from the machine, heading toward the locker rooms.

Eddie sipped his caffe latte and waited. He’d been keeping an eye on her long enough to know she usually took about twenty minutes to shower and change. After her workout, nine times out of ten she crossed the street and ordered a caffe mocha on ice at Benny’s Cafe Blue.

He switched seats so that he had a view of the entrance. Then he checked his watch and started counting. Twenty minutes could last forever when you were having this much fun. To pass the time, he played tonight’s scenario in his head. Every detail, every beat. He’d been over it before and didn’t really need any more practice. But he did it anyway, again and again, until he looked up and saw her walking through the door.

He glanced about the room and noticed the men looking at her. All of them, even the one behind the counter with that stupid grin on his face. She smiled back at the man, ordering her drink while trying to manage her purse and gym bag. She had her hands full. But that was part of the plan as well. One of the details. One of the beats.

Eddie felt his heart patter as he watched. It seemed like her caffe mocha was taking forever to make, and he figured the guy behind the counter was taking his time on purpose so that he could flirt with her. She didn’t look like she minded. In fact, it seemed pretty clear she was flirting back.

Eddie finished off his coffee, poised for his role in the scenario to begin. As she took her drink in hand and turned away from the counter, he heard the voice inside his head cue him and so he stood. He met her at the door and opened it for her, his timing perfect. Then he followed her outside, skipping the line he’d planned because he felt nervous all of a sudden. Instead, he ad-libbed a simple nod.

She’d given him a funny look, which he didn’t understand. She may have been twenty, but he was only thirty. As he analyzed the moment, he thought he’d been polite and that they were ready to become friends.

She hurried off without saying anything. Eddie concentrated on the sweet scent of her body lotion riding her wake as he began following her. He popped a Hershey’s Kiss into his mouth, savoring the chocolaty taste and smoothing it around his tongue. When she turned the corner and started up the alley, she still thought she was alone. Eddie looked around, trying not to laugh. Although the streets were clear of last night’s snow, it had gotten cold again and not many people ventured out.

He turned back as she headed toward her car. Her pace quickened a little, then even more. He noticed her head cocked back, the corner of her eye watching him. She was digging into her purse for her keys. Digging deep and fast. She reached her car just as he did. Then she dropped her caffe mocha into the snow and turned, spraying Eddie with a canister of mace that she kept attached to her key ring.

Eddie took it in the face, the mace streaming down his cheeks like rain. He could hear her grunt and grown, and imagined she made the same animal noises toward the end of all her workouts. Mace had never bothered Eddie particularly. For the life of him, he didn’t know why.

“Say,” he said through the spray, “you don’t have any tattoos, do ya?”

She seemed horrified by the question, too afraid to scream. This threw him because the question seemed so reasonable. It had been part of the script, part of the play. When she didn’t answer, he struck her on the side of her head with a closed fist. The mace stopped and he heard her keys drop onto the street. He couldn’t tell if he’d knocked her out, or maybe she just fainted. Pressing her limp body against the car so that she wouldn’t fall and possibly bruise her clear skin, he glanced about for the keys and grabbed them. Then he shoved her into the backseat, tossed the gym bag in, and slammed the door closed.

He checked the alley again, the street. No one had seen him. Sliding in behind the wheel, he felt for the lever on the floor and pushed the seat back. The script had been well written, he decided, the scenario thoughtfully done.

Eddie settled into the driver’s seat, wiping his face off with a handkerchief as he adjusted the mirrors and reviewed the dash. The car started on the first try. Then he switched on the heat, idling down the alley and turning at the corner. As he passed Benny’s Cafe Blue, he glanced in the window and saw everyone laughing again. He knew they were laughing at him, but ignored it as he always did. They could laugh all they wanted, but he had the goods.

He popped another piece of chocolate into his mouth as a reward. At the light, he made another turn. When he checked the rearview mirror, he saw the girl lying against the backseat with her eyes closed. She looked like she was sleeping. By the time she woke up, they’d already be home.

Teddy opened the letter and began reading. The words were printed on the page by hand in cumbersome letters blocked out with a felt-tip pen.

Dear Asshole:

You motherfucking piece of shit lawyers are all alike. Fuck you for defending that mailman killer. He deserves to die just like what he did to those pretty girls. You do, too, you dirty creep. I’m watching you. I’m staying close. I know where you are.

Locked and loaded and truly yours,

Colt 45

Teddy dropped the letter on his desk, wishing he hadn’t touched it. Grabbing a pen, he flipped the envelope over and examined the return address: 45 Somebody Street . He didn’t need to check, but he did. His street guide was on the credenza beside his dictionary and almanac. Paging through the index, he searched for Somebody Street , but couldn’t find it because it didn’t exist.