D. Schmidt - They Ate the Waitress?

The building manager came outside to see what was being delivered. She pulled her bathrobe closed and, bunny slippers flopping, padded over to Nick. “What’s this all about?” She jabbed an angry finger at the van. “Nobody’s scheduled to move in this week!”

“Good morning, madam.” Nick extended his hand, but she was not in the mood for polite greetings. He shook his own hand instead. “I was supposed to move in to the extended stay hotel down the road, but the man at the front desk said they won’t be finished cleaning my room until late this evening. Apparently, the previous tenant was quite a slob; he threw blood everywhere and left a chalk outline of himself on the floor. Anyway, I was wondering if I could rent this apartment just for the day.”

“The owner wouldn’t like that. I’m supposed to collect a security deposit, first and last month’s rent…”

“Well, if you don’t mind me saying so, I’m certain I can coax you into changing your mind.”

Smiling, she adjusted the curlers in her hair. “My husband will be home in an hour, but you can coax me until then…” He considered explaining what the word meant, but decided it would be easier just to bribe her.

Like the other apartments in the complex, this one had its own entrance directly off of the parking lot. Nick and the deliverymen moved the furniture into the front room, finishing just as Sophia arrived. He tipped the deliverymen and sent them on their way. Luke arrived moments later, parking across from Sophia’s door and lighting a cigarette. “Apparently Sophie doesn’t let him smoke in the house,” Nick thought. He sauntered up to Luke’s car and casually knocked on the window.

Luke cracked the window and scowled. “What the hell do you want?”

“Hi there! Luke Bender, right? I recognized you from the newsfeeds. Big fan of your work. Anyway, I’m robbing an apartment across the way. Since you have a history with this sort of thing, I thought you might help me out. There’s thousands of dollars of stuff in there. I‘d go halfsies with you, of course.”

“I don’t know about that… I’m waiting for someone.”

“How about two-thirdsies? Or three-fourthsies?”

Luke’s eyes bounced from Nick to Sophia’s door and back. “Well, alright, as long as it doesn’t take too long.”

“No, this shouldn’t take long at all.”

Nick handed Luke a stack of coins. Working together, they loaded the couch and chairs into the van. Sitting down to rest, Nick asked Luke to go back inside for the last piece of furniture, as it was small enough for one person to carry. As soon as he was out of earshot, Nick switched on his transmitter and called a security team. “Help! I’m being robbed! He’s already taken my credenza, and now he’s back for my ottoman and chesterfield!”

Twenty minutes later, Sophia and Nick were standing in the parking lot, watching Luke being dragged away by a security patrol. Two crime scene technicians collected DNA samples from the furniture, van, and the door of the apartment. They asked about there not being any furniture in the kitchen or bedroom, but Nick assured them there had been. Apparently, he said, Luke had cleaned out most of the apartment already and had returned to empty the living room. As he was a manhunter and Luke was a repeat offender, they took him at his word.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” Nick said. “I also had a pinball machine. Make sure he buys me a new one.”

“So there’s no proof he was stalking me?” Sophia asked.

Nick took her arm and led her a few steps away, so that the security team couldn’t overhear. “I didn’t bother trying to get any proof because I knew the stalking story was a lie. You just wanted me to frame him.”

“What are you talking about, Nick?”

“I spied on him at work. He told a friend all about how you two are dating. At first, I figured he must have been lying, but how else would he have gotten into your apartment?”

Sophia gasped. “He broke into my apartment? And you saw him? Why didn’t you do something?”

“He had a keycard, Wynne!” He rubbed the back of his head and groaned. “What the hell was I supposed to think?”

“I told you how he showed up at Little Brother’s! He must have gotten into the locker room and taken my keycard from my purse. I thought I’d lost it, so I had the building manager make me a new one. Ask her!”

“How did you have his home address, then?”

“How the hell do you think? I sell surveillance equipment, you ass! I had one of my employees put a tracking device on his car. It’s disguised as an ‘Ask me about my grandkids’ bumper sticker.” She gestured at the vehicle, which was about to be towed. “Go take a look! God, I can’t believe you don’t trust me!”

They were silent for a long, awkward moment. The security patrol loaded Luke into the back of their car and headed for their office, where an arbitrator would be waiting to hear his case. The crime scene technicians informed Nick that they had found Luke’s DNA, so the furniture would not have to be taken as evidence. However, Luke’s DNA would not be returned to him until after his trial. They collected their tools and were on their way.

“One thing I can’t figure out,” Sophia said suddenly. “If you thought Luke was innocent, why did you decide to frame him?”

“I didn’t,” Nick said, digging in his pocket for his transmitter. “I simply encouraged him to break the law. There’s a difference. – Look, I don’t have time for this. I have to get back to work. Sweeney will want to know how the investigation is progressing.”

“Nick, wait…”

Turning his back, he walked out of earshot and leaned against a lamppost. He switched on his transmitter and said “Trans Sweeny.” With a soft ping , a six-inch hologram of a woman’s head appeared above his palm. She had skin like an actress in a soap commercial and strawberry blonde hair pulled into a bun so tight she had trouble blinking.

“Oh! Sorry,” he said, “transmission error. Must be getting some interference. I was trying to reach Todd Sweeney.”

“He’s out at the moment, Mr. Wergild. I’m his wife, Margery.”

“Either that’s really amazing plastic surgery,” he thought, “Or she’s at least thirty years younger than Sweeney.” To Margery, he said, “Oh! You’re Sweeney’s wife? You’re not English.”

“No, I’m from Canada. Ever been?”

“Not on purpose. Listen, you know who I am, so I assume you know about Flockhart’s murder.”

“Yes, of course. A horrible tragedy. I have my own theories about who it might have been, but I’m interested to see what you have to say on the matter.”

He described what he had discovered in Clayton’s house. “I’ll send you the video later. Let me know what you think.”

As he walked back to the van, Sophia tried to stop him, wanting to talk, but he simply brushed past her. For a moment, he watched her in his rearview mirror, shrinking in the distance. “Go back,” he thought. “Just talk to her. What’s the worst that can happen? Embarrassment, rejection, humiliation, drinking to escape the pain, and driving into a tree, sure. But other than that, what could go wrong?”

He returned to Notable Furniture and grabbed the nearest salesclerk, an older woman in a white cardigan. “Hello there!” he said. “Earlier today, I bought a living room set from one of your coworkers. I would like to return it.”

“Was there a problem with the furniture, sir?”

“Yes, actually. I’m pretty sure the couch is haunted.”

“I’m going to have to check with my manager…”

The manager decided that giving him a refund was easier than debating the existence of the afterlife. Nick left the store and drove the van back to the rental lot. He returned to his car and, once he was back on the road, some cigarettes and pills helped take his mind off her.