The Waiting Room
~ Chapter Eighty-Eight
A Slow Burn
Edward
finished up another lovely scherenschnitte picture. It was nearly
perfect in his eyes. Using the new technique he learned he had cut a
delicate design. He held it up to admire it, the word THANK YOU
mirrored onto itself making it appear as if it were a magnificent
work of art.
But he felt as if it were not complete.
Something was missing. Carefully he placed the exquisite creation
onto the first page of the photo album, adhering it dutifully with
the acid free glue just as Miss Karyn had instructed him. He would be
so proud of it once the whole album was complete and he could send it
off to her. But still?
He looked at the first page, the one
that now held the THANK YOU sheet. He let his gaze fall to the second
page that lay blank. It needed something just as dramatic he thought.
Her name! Of course! Perfection!
But to his dismay he found
his ream of paper had been used up, between his practice and the
gifts he had made for some in The Room, he had finished off the last
of the paper. Now what was he to do? He so wanted to finish the album
before Mr. Noodlemantra returned.
Just then movement caught
his eye and he glanced to a far corner of the room. There on the
floor he saw it. A piece of paper. Edward shuffled to it quickly,
before anyone else had a chance to find it.
With experienced
precision he picked up the paper and carried it back to his table.
With great caution he laid it down. The one side blank. It appeared
to be special paper…parchment like. His curiosity aroused he caught
the paper in the tips of his scissors and flipped it over.
Edward
stared at what he had. Nervously he glanced up, with jerky movements
he looked about the room. Could this be? Was this what he thought it
was?
He leaned closer to look at the writing, and was
astonished at the beautiful watermarks that graced the paper. He had
never had one of his own. And now he had found this one…should
he…could he…dare keep if for himself? Pretend it was his? Dare
he?
But why had it been on the floor, this precious piece of
paper? Why could its owner been so careless about something so
important in one’s life?
Edward slowly came up from his
admiring inspection and looked anxiously about The Room.
He
did not see the paper’s owner.
Like a bad automation doll
in a store window, Edward stepped around in a circle, looking to all
corners of The Room.
He then shuffled over to the bedroom
door. He began to step inside when Crane cautioned him.
“Please!
Edward! That is a crime scene. I am not quite finished in there. Is
there something you need? Something I can get for you from the
bedroom?”
Edward blinked quickly as he thought about what
to do. He pursed his lips then shook his head.
“No, no,
Constable Crane. Nothing I need. Nothing I need.” Edward glanced
back into the empty room. “You have not found Mr. Lantz?”
Ichabod stepped over to the doorway, bringing himself next to
the man with the scissors for hands. “No, I fear not, Edward.”
Edward nodded. “I think, Constable…I think I have
something you need to see.”
He motioned for the officer to
follow him. Crane obliged. The Constable watched as Edward lifted a
piece of paper with the tips of his scissors…his hands…his
scissors. Oh never mind, he thought. Whatever he calls them, he used
them well.
“What is it, Edward? What do you have that you
wish me to see?” With interest Crane took the paper that Edward
offered. He read it, then looked up to the man in black before him.
Then as a good cop, instantly let his gaze follow around The
Room, searching the faces. But he did not find who he was looking
for.
But then again…Crane looked down at the paper.
“I
fear Edward, I have been remiss. I am so afraid I do not recall this
gentleman.”
Edward gave a twitch of his cheek. “I am not
surprised, Constable. He was quiet and shy like myself. He stayed in
the background. Never talked with anyone. He was just a quiet young
man in search of his father. I do believe he never found him.”
Crane let his eyes focus back on the paper in his hand.
The
paper was authentic. Upon it was listed the name of the boy’s
mother and his biological father, the man he had searched for as a
young boy.
“Perhaps Mr. Donnie Fleischer has found his
father at last.” Crane placed a brotherly hand on Edward’s
shoulder. “But then again, who knows? Either way, it is another one
gone, and this is now evidence. May I have it?”
“Yes,
yes, of course, Constable. It is yours.”
“Thank you,”
Crane said and returned back to his table. Now he had Glen’s
Walkman, young Jack’s clothes, Lerner’s automatic weapon and his
leather cuff currently in the possession of BonBon…and now the
birth certificate of Donnie Fleischer.
The whole situation
was like a slow burn, igniting his curiosity and foremost firing up
his need to find the truth.