Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 75003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 375(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 375(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
The super.
He was always around. Always busy. In a building this crowded and this dated, there was always an air conditioner on the fritz, a thermostat not working, plumbing issues, you name it.
“Mr. Booth!” I called, throwing my hand up as I spotted him bending down to pick up what looked like a pile of empty dime bags, curling them in his fist, then dropping them into the bin just a few feet away.
I saw him suck in a deep breath as he looked for who was calling him, then nodding at me before lumbering over.
Mr. Booth was a massive man. Tall, wide, with legs like tree trunks, and arms almost as big. He looked like he juggled refrigerators for fun.
He had pale skin made ruddy from the sun, or any personal exertion, with thinning blond hair, and small blue eyes.
“6D,” he said, nodding at me. Then his gaze slid to my hair, nodding. “Need me to snake the shower drain?”
“What? Oh, no. No, the drain is fine, thanks.”
“You sure? Hair like that…”
“I’m sure. No, actually, I was just wondering if you are allowed to go into other units?” I asked.
“What for?”
“Well, I’m kind of worried about my upstairs neighbor,” I admitted.
“7D? Why?”
“Well, I heard a loud thump the other night. But not a peep since. I’m worried he might be, you know, really hurt or something. I didn’t know if you could check in on him, or if I should have the police do a wellness check?”
“I, ah, I can take a look, I guess,” he said, gaze moving past me. “Just to put your mind at ease.”
“I would really appreciate it. I’m worried about him.”
If he went in and saw the blood, maybe he could call the police. Which would kind of… take me out of the equation, right? So the bad guys wouldn’t have a reason to suspect me.
I hoped.
“Sure. No problem. Let me know when the drain backs up,” he said before lumbering off.
Feeling satisfied, I made my way to the market, the long walk in the sunshine enough to chase away the lingering anxiety I was still feeling.
I was feeling like a different person as I made my way down the hall toward my apartment.
I was even excited to see what new art might be drawn on my whiteboard.
But the smile fell from my lips as I moved closer to see it wasn’t art at all.
It was a message.
And not one of Levee’s riddles. Or even one of the lewd ones I came across now and again.
No.
This one was a threat.
Mind your own business, bitch.
A strange whimpering sound escaped me as I reached for the pen with a shaking hand, using the eraser cap to remove the words.
Only they weren’t drawn on with the dry-erase marker. It was permanent.
On a grumble, I ripped the whole board off the door, not even caring at the spot of chipped paint that came away when I didn’t remove the peel-and-stick strip properly.
Unlocking my door, I rushed inside, going straight to the kitchen to toss the board.
I was a second away from dropping it when I realized what it was. Evidence.
Graphology was the study of handwriting. And they used that kind of thing to compare known samples if, you know, something happened to me.
As much as I didn’t ever want to look at it again, I brought it with me into my bedroom, slipping it into my top drawer where I figured it would be easily found if it came to that.
I shoved the whole bag of groceries into the fridge, all thoughts of cooking abandoned as the fear I’d been trying to tamp down came rushing back to the surface.
I slid my locks and put the alarm under my door. I closed the curtains. I sat in complete and utter silence, paranoid that I wouldn’t be able to hear someone coming.
But even if I did, what good would it do? There was only one way out of my apartment. If they came in that exit, I was trapped. Completely at their mercy. Up this high, I couldn’t even get one of those escape ladders to throw out my window.
I was a sitting duck.
My memory flashed back to the encounter with Mr. Booth in the courtyard, trying to remember who was close enough to have overheard my concern about my upstairs neighbor.
I hadn’t been paying much attention. The area was always relatively busy. People came and went constantly. And then, well, there were the people making a living by standing around and waiting for other people to come to them. Little drug deals with out there in the broad daylight.
Anyone could have heard.
Or Mr. Booth could even have mentioned something to someone while working on another task.
Who knew how they found out that I was asking around about my neighbor. All I did know was that they knew. And they weren’t happy about it.