The Waiting Room
~ Chapter Ninety-One
Smokes and Missing Lovers
Crane
slowly opened his eyes. Another day, he thought. He looked to find
Fred Abberline on his left, his head hung back as he slept. He was
exactly where he had been last night as they went over Ichabod's
notes and theories.
“Inspector?” Crane nudged the
civil servant.
Fred’s eyes fluttered as he sat up, bringing both
hands up to rub his face.
“Fell asleep, did I? Sorry,
Constable Crane.”
“No, no, quite all right, I don’t
think it was within your control anyway.” Fred’s brow furrowed at
Crane’s words, then realized what he meant. Depp had gone asleep
himself and so their world disappeared during that time.
Together
they glanced about the Room.
Do ye be thinking there are
more?” Abberline asked of Crane.
“Most definite. It was a
theory I had and it appears that it is staying true to form.” Crane
pointed to the sofa. A Food Land box sat, across it a grocer’s
apron. They were the items Gilbert had brought into The Room.
“Let’s be sure,” Abberline suggested, rising and going
to the bedroom. He peeked inside the empty room, letting his gaze
pause briefly at the bed, the bed that had started the whole mystery
when Lantz disappeared.
Seeing that there was no one there,
he then went to the bathroom. He knocked on the closed door and
receiving no answer, cautiously opened it. He did not expect Gilbert
to be there and was not surprised to not find him there.
But
something else caught his attention; a megaphone…Ed Wood’s…placed
as if on display on the closed lid of the toilet.
Abberline
picked it up and brought it out to Crane who now had the box and
apron on the table before him.
Crane focused on the megaphone
as Abberline set it down among the newly discovered items.
“Mr.
Wood, I presume?” Crane asked, knowing the answer.
Abberline
nodded, then shook his head. “Tis a strange case indeed, wouldn’t
ye agree, Constable?”
“You are right, Inspector. Strange.
Though I have concluded the ongoing outcome of the mystery, that is,
one by one, we are all slowly missing; my concern is why it is
happening, and where do they go when they leave The Room?”
“I
believe only Mr. Depp can be the one to answer that question. And as
far as I can tell, we’ve got no means to communicate.”
Crane
nodded in agreement, his chin resting on his hand as he thought and
pondered.
His attention was attracted by the man at the
desk.
“Wait, Inspector. I may have a plan.” And left
Abberline’s side and made his way to the New York writer.
Mort
was typing away, then deleting his words. He tried a few combination
key strokes, letting a curse pass his lips as he pounded one last key
in frustration.
“Damn it, if I could open the freaking
window, I’d chuck the whole thing out!” Rainey claimed. He then
became aware of Crane’s presence.
“Oh hey,” he said,
“Breakfast?” he asked, offering the crumpled bag of Doritos.
Crane shook his head, holding his hand up as if defending
himself against the spicy corn chip snacks. “No thank you, Mr.
Rainey. I prefer a heartier meal, but since young Sam is not here to
cook, Commander Armacost has taken over the duties.”
“Yeah,
I heard about that. Also heard that for some damn reason, the
electric appliances are going haywire in there, and what’s up with
him taking the radio in there. It’s as if the thing’s attached to
his hip.”
The constable looked over to the closed kitchen
door. “He says that is how he stays in touch with his Emily.”
Mort huffed a humorous laugh. “All I ever hear out the
thing is static. I bet he’s got some mojo floating around him that
affects electricity. Probably what is wrong with this thing.” He
waved in disgust at the computer.
“I’m sorry Constable.
Did you have a question?” Mort asked, before pulling another drag
on a cigarette.
“I thought you quit, Mr. Rainey,” Crane
asked as the writer took another long inhale of smoke.
“Yeah,
well, all the s--t that’s been going on lately, I just figured I
would smoke…I would just totally smoke until my own time came.” he said in a foreboding voice.
Crane sighed at his words. So,
he thought, others are picking up that their time was coming. Of
course it didn’t take a detective to figure it out.
“Constable
Crane?” a quiet, delicate voice said his name. Crane turned to find
BonBon behind him, a frightened look on her face.
“Yes,
madam? What can I do for you?”
BonBon brought up her hands,
in it was a black cloth-like item. She caressed it as if it were the
most special thing in the world then handed it to Crane.
He
took it with trepidation, turning it over and realizing it was a
black mask.
“My Don Juan is gone,” she sniffed. “Can
you bring him back to me?”