The Waiting Room
~ Chapter Ninety
Abberline's Dream
With
the help of James, Ichabod managed to get Wade’s jacket from
Porthos.
“Ye best be watching yerself, friend,” Barrie
addressed the bear. “Or you could well be next.”
The
constable furrowed his brow at the author’s words. It spurred
another theory in the New York detective’s mind.
“Mr.
Barrie, do you know who in the Room came after you?”
“Well,
let me think a minute.” The Irishman glanced about at the faces and
pointed.
“The Frenchman came right after me, I do believe. And
if I am not mistaken, Lord Wilmot, for if I recall, they struck up
conversation. Yes, yes, that is right. They’ve been the only ones
after me.”
Crane bowed slightly to Barrie. “Thank you
sir,” then turned about, looking to the other men. He found the man
he was looking for.
“Edward?” he called out to the man
with the scissors for hands.
Edward started at his name as he
attempted to make a delicate snip in his next design. He double
checked his work and confirmed he had not damaged the picture and
turned awkwardly in his chair.
“Yes, Constable?” the
young man with the scarred face asked.
“A question,
please,” Crane approached Edward.
“Of course, Constable
Crane.” Edward carefully put down his creation and waited for the
Constable’s question.
“After you…er…arrived.”
“In
The Room?” Edward asked.
“Yes…in The Room. Do you
recall who was next? Who came after you?”
“That’s a
difficult question, Constable Crane. Do you want who came and stayed
or who came but doesn’t stay?”
“I…? I guess both,
Edward.” Crane told him.
“Well, when I first came, all
these shelves were empty.” He waved a scissor towards the walls of
The Room that now were loaded with books upon books.
“But soon
after, Mr. Noodlemantra arrived with cartloads of books. He just
started putting them up on the shelves. He did it by himself until
Axel, Sam and Gilbert came. Then they helped. I tried once…but
…well…you can imagine what happened.” Edward made a snip in the
air.
“Yes, I understand the dilemma. But at least you tried,
Edward, that is what is important.”
“Thank you,
Constable.” Edward quietly thanked the man and continued. “And
then Axel arrived. He was asking if anyone had seen his plane.”
Crane thanked Edward and excused himself going into the
kitchen where Sam was busy preparing the evening meal. On the stove a
large pot simmered. He saw Crane pop his head in.
“Hello,
Constable,” Sam called out, nodding his head. “Can I help you?”
Crane stepped into the kitchen. “Yes, Sam, and you too, Axel.
I have to admit, I am surprised to see you in here.”
“Oh,
Sam looked like he could use a little help peeling these bananas for
the potatoes.”
Axel stripped one of the yellow fruit of its
peel. “Hannah sent an extra large shipment today, and Sam thought he
better start using them up right away.”
“I see,”
Crane said, watching as Axel peeled and tossed the banana into the
pot. Sam continued to stir. Absently, Crane adjusted the box of chili
peppers as he tried to think how he was going to broach his question.
Just then Gilbert burst through the door. “Constable, you
best get in here, now!” the young shop clerk exclaimed, holding the
door, waiting for Ichabod.
As requested, Crane hurried to the
door, giving Gilbert a curious look before entering back into The
Room. A small gathering had crowded around a table. The very table he
had been at but a few minutes before.
“Excuse me,” Crane
gently elbowed his way through until he reached the inner rim of the
gathering. There on the table was a beautifully snipped and cut
picture, exquisite in its' delicate curves and corners. Ichabod
picked it up, looking at it, glancing up at the men who had gathered
around, then back to the picture.
Goodbye.
It was as
if Edward knew. Ichabod sighed. He could not imagine what was going
on outside their inner sanctum. What was happening with Mr. Depp.
An alarm sounded. Heads went to and fro as they searched for
the source.
“Hey, gente muy estupidas,” Sands called from
his table. “I might be blind, but I’m not deaf. Could somebody
shut the freaking smoke alarm off in the kitchen?”
Crane
pushed past the men, finding Abberline joining him as they broke
through the kitchen door.
Fred immediately headed for the
alarm that demanded their attention, warning them of the burning
food.
Crane rushed and shut off the stove, removing the pot
of potatoes that had begun to stick and burn to the bottom. As he
turned about to pour the water down the drain, he was stopped by a
sight on the counter.
A Buster Keaton hat, alone and waiting
for its owner to claim it.
“Constable Crane, I have a
curious find here.” The Inspector held up a pair of flying goggles.
“Aren’t these Mr. Blackmar’s?”
“Yes, Inspector,
they are. And this I fear, belonged to young Sam.” He lifted the
hat, inspecting it, turning it over in his hands as if it would speak
to him.
Crane glanced up at the last picture Sam had painted;
the irises beneath the rainbow and it gave him pause to think about
what was happening.
He then had a foreboding thought.
“Inspector?” Crane caught Abberline’s attention. “I
need to review a few things with you. Just in case.”
Abberline
looked to Ichabod, a knowing look casting across his eyes. Ichabod
knew that Fred was well aware what he was thinking.
“You
know what I mean by “just in case”, don’t you Inspector,”
Crane confronted the Scotland Yard inspector.
“Yes, I do. I
saw it in a dream.” he confessed.
Ichabod nodded. He knew
that at the rate the men were disappearing, he himself would be gone
by the end of the week.
Abberline would have to take over the
investigation.