Chapter 8 #2
“Garbage cans. Definitely check the garbage cans.” David’s voice came back to her in a flash as her gaze alighted on the garbage can in the kitchen.
She ran over and stomped on the pedal of the can, peering in. There was barely anything inside: just a banana peel, coffee grounds, and a few other food remains.
Amie let the lid of the can fall with a dull clunk and sprinted back into the bedroom. A small wastebasket sat by the bed, and Amie steeled herself before looking inside.
The majority of the contents were tissues, plus a light blue sock that looked too small for Benny.
The sock almost took the prize for most intriguing item, if there hadn’t been several torn pieces of paper stuffed among the tissues.
They were all seemingly parts of a whole, having been ripped up and shoved into the basket.
Delicately, she used her thumb and pointer finger to pick out the pieces.
The paper was soft and wrinkled, as if it had been crumpled up at least once.
There was printed text on one side and a photograph on the other.
Amie began laying the pieces on the floor, text side up, trying to match the jagged edges to each other.
A loud, muffled voice in the distance caught her attention. Amie froze, two pieces in her hands, as she listened.
“—still think there might be a couple spots that would benefit from traps,” David was saying. “Oh! Did I mention the weird sound my refrigerator’s been making? Shoot, forgot to mention that. We might as well go look now while I have you. No?”
There was an unintelligible response from Benny.
“Ah of course, dinner.” David’s voice grew markedly louder. “MOST IMPORTANT MEAL OF THE DAY, I SAY. YOU HAVE DINNER WAITING FOR YOU, OF COURSE, I DON’T WANT TO HOLD YOU UP ANY LONGER.”
Amie collected the pieces of paper and shoved them into the front pocket of her shorts.
She hurried out of the room, wondering if she could pull off the “hide behind the door then slip out” trick a second time.
The sound of a doorknob rattling sent her scrambling back into the bedroom, sliding the door partially closed as she hid behind it.
“Can I ask you something?” David’s voice came from the other side of the apartment as the door opened. “Landlording. That must be a stressful gig. All the people in this building, only one you. How do you keep the pressure from getting on top of you?”
“Uh …” The door shut. “I dunno. I just do it, I guess.”
“Just do it,” David said. “Wow. What a motto. Someone should use that for something.”
Amie heard a quiet thump, which she assumed was Benny sitting on his couch. Hoping she was right and that Benny’s back was now to her, she risked a peek around the corner of the sliding door.
Benny was indeed sitting on the couch, digging through the takeout bag that sat on the coffee table in front of him. Off to the side, David was anxiously shifting his weight back and forth, eyes darting around the apartment.
“Want a beer?” Benny asked, seemingly trying to make the best of his uninvited guest.
“Oh, I should probably get—” David’s sentence was cut off by a yelp as his eyes met Amie’s.
“Whoa, what?” Benny asked, sitting up as Amie ducked back behind the door. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, it’s nothing,” David said hurriedly. “Twinge in my back. When you get to be my age it’ll happen all the time. Just gotta stretch it out.”
“Did you see something?” Benny pressed. “Like a … like a ghost?”
“A ghost? No, I didn’t see a ghost. Why?”
“I … never mind.”
Amie’s heart leapt into her throat as a loud chiming emerged from her front pocket. The ten-minute alarm.
Thankfully, Benny had chosen that moment to switch on the television. The sudden blast of sound drowned out the noise of the alarm (and the subsequent sounds of Amie frantically scrambling to shut the alarm off). She heaved a sigh of relief as she returned the traitorous device to her pocket.
“Oh, I love this show,” David commented. “Incredible writing.”
“That’s a paper towel commercial.”
“Ah.”
Amie took stock of her situation. Benny’s back was to her while on the couch, but he’d see her if she tried to sneak out the front door. She could wait until he needed to use the bathroom, but he’d have to walk through the bedroom to get there.
So … she’d hide!
Amie tiptoed over to the bed, lay down, and shimmied underneath.
Her hand hit something soft, and she instinctively swiped it away from her.
The item went flying out from under the bed, landing silently on the floor a couple feet in front of Amie.
Squinting in the dim light, she saw it was the matching sock to the one she’d found in the wastebasket.
Maybe now he won’t have to throw out the other one, Amie thought, shifting to a more comfortable position. (That was, as comfortable as one can get hiding under the bed of a man who may have been involved in the murder of one’s neighbor while waiting for said man to go use the bathroom.)
She suddenly realized that David might have been trying to contact her, or that she at least should be updating him on her plan. Squirming a bit, she managed to extract her phone from her pocket and bring it up to her face.
There were, in fact, multiple messages from David, beginning with the WE’RE COMING BACK variety before transitioning to a general WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO? sentiment.
There was also a text from Ziya, received just a couple minutes before: Where are you?
Amie’s brow furrowed as she read the message, then reread it (which was a pointless endeavor, seeing how it was only three words and therefore pretty difficult to misread on the first go).
Deciding that Ziya had probably meant to text someone else, Amie swiped the notification away and shot off a message to David:
Amie: I’m hiding under the bed. Gonna try to slip out when he uses the bathroom
Bubbles appeared to indicate that David was typing. About thirty seconds later (David was the slowest texter Amie had ever encountered), he responded:
David: Okay. I will try to get him to drink more. Hang tight.
“If the offer still stands, I will take that beer, actually,” David said from the other room.
A studio audience burst into applause through the TV’s speakers. There was a loud snap as a beer can was opened.
“You know, I used to be able to chug one of these in five seconds,” he continued.
“No way,” came Benny’s half-interested response.
“Yes way. I was kind of a legend. Bet it’d take you more than twenty.”
Benny’s interest was growing. “Nah, I could do it in ten, easy.”
“No way.”
There was another snap as a fresh can was opened. “Time me.”
Amie shook her head in amazement as David began counting. She couldn’t believe that actually worked.
“—eight … nine … te—”
“Done!” came Benny’s proud announcement, followed by an even prouder burp.
“Very impressive,” David said.
“Now you go.”
“Oh, no, I couldn’t—”
“Dude, I went, now you have to go. Ready … set …”
Amie rested her chin on her folded arms as Benny began counting. Her phone lit up from where it sat on the floor next to her.
Seriously, where the hell is everyone?
Starting to feel bad that Ziya couldn’t find her friends, Amie picked up the phone and tapped out a reply. Wrong person!
“—twenty-one … twenty-two … did you finish?”
“Intermission,” David choked out between gasps for air. “I think I’m halfway through.”
“Forget it, man.” Benny was chuckling. “It’s okay.”
“Oh, thank god.”
Hoping that Benny had a weak bladder, Amie reached down to her pocket to pull out the pieces of paper she’d retrieved from the wastebasket. Shifting her weight to one arm, she used her opposite hand to try putting together the photo side of the ripped-up paper.
“Can I be real with you for a second?” she heard Benny ask.
“That’s one of my favorite ways for people to be with me,” David responded. “Second only to ‘not.’ ”
There was a brief pause.
“Anyway, you were saying?”
“I just, I thought you were kind of a weird dude, if I’m being honest. No offense.”
“None taken.”
“But my girlfriend broke up with me, and I really didn’t want to be alone tonight. So thanks for hanging with me.”
Another brief pause.
“Glad I could be here for you,” David finally said, his voice strained. “Sorry to hear about your breakup.”
“It’s fine. Shit happens.”
“Sure does.”
“But you’re all right, man. Even if you did kill Savannah.”
Amie froze as the pause that followed stretched far beyond the definition of “brief.”
“I … didn’t do that,” David finally said.
“Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I mean, I don’t give a shit. She was a total bi—” Benny stopped. “Do you … believe in ghosts?” he asked tentatively.
“I guess I’m agnostic about it. Don’t really believe or disbelieve. Do you think you’re being haunted?”
“No. I mean, I don’t know. I guess I’m acrostic about it, too.”
“Has something happened to make you think—”
“Let’s just watch the show.”
Returning to her garbage puzzle, Amie put the final pieces into place. She’d immediately identified Benny. The rest of the pieces came together to reveal his lips pressed against the cheek of a laughing woman, who appeared to be the photographer of the selfie.
Amie deflated a bit. Benny’s ex-girlfriend, she thought. He must have torn up the photo and thrown it out after she broke up with him the other night. Nothing to do with Savannah after all.
Remembering the text on the other side, she flipped over the top right piece to reveal the first few words: Benny—
The words were illuminated by Amie’s phone lighting up again. Huffing with annoyance, she looked at it.
AMELIA TELLER. I AM IN YOUR BUILDING. WHERE ARE YOU?
Amie’s eyes widened. Ziya’s HERE?
Before she could begin to formulate a response (or even just move past thinking Ziya’s HERE? over and over again), David’s raised voice caught her attention.
“Hey! Where are you heading off to? They’re about to … say who won … the … thing.”
David clearly had not been paying attention to whatever they were watching.