The Waiting Room
~ Chapter Eighty-Nine
More Evidence
Ichabod
took a giant step. Into the twenty-first century. He had asked Mort
to start a file on his computer, listing the inventory of the items
he had recovered so far: the Walkman, the clothes, the rifle, and the
birth certificate.
At first, it surprised him that Rainey
agreed but the writer saw a pattern and was not sure he was
comfortable with what was happening. He wanted Crane to get to the
bottom of the disappearances or at least an explanation before it was
too late for the rest of them, including himself.
When Mort
finished entering the information, he gave the constable a print out.
“Thank you kindly, Mr. Rainey,” Crane said as he took the
paper. “You assistance is greatly appreciated.”
“Just
find out what the hell is going on,” Mort mumbled back. “This is
one freaking sick joke he’s playing, if you ask me.” Crane did
not have to inquire who Rainey was referring to and nodded his head
in understanding, then returned to his table.
“Here you go,
Constable Crane. I found an empty one.” Roux said as he placed an
empty cardboard box up on the table. The Irishman then went to find
Blake to return the skeleton key to the basement door. Crane waited
until Roux was a few feet away before grabbing at the box. He turned
it over, trying to find any identifying marks or writing as he tried
to prove one of his unspoken theories. But there were none, which
case in point, became another theory.
If indeed the men were
disappearing one by one from the Room, then it would make sense that
so would the items in the memory boxes downstairs. He was positive
the empty box in his hands had once held the memories of one of the
absent men, but just as the items inside had vanished, so had the
writing on the outside of the box.
“What is going on with
you, Mr. Depp?” Crane asked aloud, then shook his head unable to
answer his own question and began to place the ‘evidence’ into
the box.
“No luck, senor?” DeMarco startled the officer.
Crane gave a small jump at the Spaniard’s voice and turned to face
him.
“Oh, Senor DeMarco. No, I am afraid I have still hit a
wall. Clearly the gentlemen are gone, for these items were of the
utmost importance to them. It is a mystery I must say, but one I plan
to solve.”
“Do you think the phenomenon will affect us
all?” Don Juan asked as he looked in BonBon’s direction. Crane
followed his gaze and saw the she-male as she continued to admire
Lerner’s leather cuff. It was evidence also, but Crane allowed the
Cuban to keep it for now.
“I hope that it will not come to
that, Senor. I am doing my best to find the cause of this curious
occurrence, and vow to put an end to it.”
DeMarco waved his
hand. “Ahh, but Constable, do you think it can be stopped? After
all, is it not ‘him’” DeMarco pointed upwards “that controls
all things that happen in The Room?”
“A fact I have
indeed taken under consideration. But again, I feel there is a
solution.” Crane stopped before going further. He was forming
another plan, one that included Oprah Noodlemantra.
“Then I
shall leave you to your work. Good luck, Constable Crane,” DeMarco
bowed as he left and returned to BonBon’s side.
Across the
room Mort yanked open his top drawer, feeling a case of the munchies
coming on. He was in the mood for Doritos and a Mountain Dew. Mort
remembered he still had a half-filled bag in the top drawer, as for
the Dew, he would have to check with Sam.
He snatched the
crumpled bag, sending crispy crumbs flying. As he began to slam the
drawer shut, something caught his eye.
“What the f--k?”
he growled then shock filled him as he realized what he was looking
at.
He swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry.
“Constable?
Think you might want to totally take a look at this.”
His
curiosity aroused, Crane made his way over to Mort’s desk. As the
contents of the drawer came into view he called out to Mort as he
reached in.
“Don’t please, Mr. Rainey. Evidence, you
know?”
Mort withdrew his hand. Crane removed a white
handkerchief from his pocket and placed it on the gun, gently lifting
it. Beneath the revolver was another find. The gold of the badge
glimmered in the overhead lights.
“Does it say what I think
it does, Mr. Rainey? Can you read it without touching?”
Mort
nodded and leaned closer to read the inscription. He gave the
constable the badge number and then the name below.
Hanson.
“No, Porthos! Bad bear!” Came Barrie’s cry. Mort and
Ichabod turned to see the Scotsman in a tug of war over something
with the large creature. Crane slowly walked over to man and bear.
“Ye not suppose to be chewing on something like this,”
Barrie reprimanded the bear. He then noticed that Crane was at his
side.
“Can ye help me, Constable Crane? I went to the loo
for just a moment and came back to find me Porthos gnawing on this.”
He pointed down to the item in the bruin’s jaws.
Crane
squatted down for a closer inspection and recognized the item.
He
wondered if Wade Walker was out there somewhere crying for his
leather jacket.