The Waiting Room
~ Chapter Eighty-Seven
BonBon's Leather Cuff
The
constable laid out young Jack’s clothes on his self-appointed
table. He had sat at the same table since 1999, since his arrival in
the Room. He had always performed his tasks at the table, wrote to
loved ones at the table, and ate his meals at the table. And now, he
was laying out important evidence on the very same table.
Next
to the clothes, he added Glen’s Walkman. The young boy never left
the Room without it, yet there it had been, on the bed. Discarded,
forgotten.
What did it mean, Ichabod wondered.
He
brought down his inspection goggles to get a closer look at the
fabric, not knowing exactly what he was looking for. The tweezers in
his hand expertly pulled at the material as he searched and inspected
for a clue, any clue.
Crane was beginning on the football
jersey when a rustle of a nearby chair caught his attention. He
glanced up, but the goggles brought only a blurred image and he
quickly pushed the instrument up towards his forward to greet his
visitor.
It was Spencer.
“Yes, Commander?” Crane
addressed him. “What can I do for you?”
“It’s Emily,
sir.”
Crane gave the astronaut a confused look.
“Emily.”
he repeated, nodding towards the radio at the bar. “We’ve been
talking again.”
The constable turned towards the bar,
giving a brief look to the radio that now sat silent. He vaguely
recalled hearing static a few minutes earlier.
“I see,
Commander. Very good. Nice to see you are making social contacts.”
Crane replied, bringing the goggles down and returned to inspecting
young Jack’s jersey.
“Emily tells me things, Constable.
This morning she told me something I think you might want to hear.
It’s a real peach.”
Ichabod straighten from his task, but
did not remove the glasses this time.
“I am quite sure that
your conversation with your radio pen pal is extremely interesting…to
you…but as you can see, Commander, I am in the middle of an
investigation and really must try to solve this mystery of Mr. Lantz
and young Jack’s disappearance. So I must beg your pardon if I
appear rude and do not want to be privy to your verbal exchange with
your….what did you say her name was?”
“Emily, sir. But
I really think…”
Ichabod held up his hand. “Please
Commander. Another time, when I am not so busy.”
Armacost
sighed and spread his hands out. “Okay, Constable. Your loss. I
really think…” but the astronaut stopped talking as he noticed
Crane was no longer listening.
“Fine.” he snorted and
left the table, returning to the radio and began adjusting the knobs
to locate Emily again. The static returned and those close by heard
Spencer whisper, “He won’t listen to me.”
Crane was
engrossed in his chore when he realized the chair was being occupied
again.
“I told you, Commander, I am quite busy,” Crane
waved his hand without looking up.
“It’s not the space
monkey,” came Brasco’s voice. Crane shot up, removing the goggles
from his head.
“Detective? My apologies. It is just I am
busy with ….”
“Forgetaboutit,” Brasco shook his head.
“I thought I should inform you of something, since you seem to be
involved in these disappearances. Professional courtesy, so to speak,
since this is your investigation.”
“Of course, Detective.
Anything you have that can enlighten me would be greatly appreciated.
Have you heard something? Did you see something?”
“Heard?
No. See? Yes.” He nodded towards the other side of the room.
Ichabod curiously followed the direction and turned to see what had
caught Brasco’s attention.
At the table where she always
reigned was BonBon. Most days were spent painting her nails or fixing
her makeup, cooing to the men and flirting with boys. Today something
new occupied her precious time.
She was adjusting and playing
with a leather cuff, twisting it around over her frail, thin wrist,
buckling and re-buckling to make it tighter, then repeating the
action to loosen it. Occasionally holding her arm out to admire
the new accessory.
Crane carefully put down the goggles and
tweezers and walked slowly to the Cuban beauty. As he drew near he
caught her attention and she smiled, crossing her long legs and
tilting her face upwards, her eyes hooded in a seductive manner.
“Why Constable Crane, an unexpected pleasure. I do not
believe we have had a chance to get to know one another. Just call me
BonBon.” She held out her hand for him to take, giving a quick,
knowing glance in DeMarco’s direction and taking pleasure in the
Spaniard’s concerned look.
Crane took the offered hand and
gave an official handshake. “Please to meet you, Mistress BonBon.
But I fear my visit is not for pleasure. Strictly business.”
“Oh?
I don’t know what you’re talking about.” she said demurely
aware that Crane had not released her hand and found herself enjoying
the softness of the Constable’s touch.
Crane brought up his
other hand and tapped the cuff.
“May I inquire how you came
to be in possession of the leather cuff?”
“This old
thing?” She said pulling her hand away. “I found it, over there,”
she nodded towards a corner table. “Finders keepers….isn’t that
the saying, Constable? I found it , no one claimed it…it is now
mine.”
Crane excused himself and found his way to the empty
corner table. He found nothing on the table or on the chairs. But
there in the corner, behind the table, he found the automatic rifle.
He pulled out a handkerchief and lifted the weapon from the floor.
He then noted that Brasco was at his side and he immediately
handed the gun to the detective. “Please take this, Detective. I
abhor weapons.”
The Detective hoisted it, checked the
chamber and found it empty.
“Ain’t this Lerner’s?”
Brasco asked but already knew the answer. Crane nodded, searching the
Room. “Well how in the hell is he going back to his Platoon without
his weapon?”
Crane didn’t have an answer.