I
want you to know that I am not a Nosy Nellie – one of those people who are
constantly peeping at their neighbors through the blinds or analyzing the contents
of carts belonging to shoppers ahead of you in the checkout line. I believe in minding my own beeswax at all
times. My name will never appear on any
Prosecutor’s witness list, only to end up being relocated to a nowhere town in
New Mexico with a new identity. No. Never.
At least, not until I saw the bag.
It
was on the seat next to the window in the last row on the driver’s side of the
bus. Okay, so I take the bus to and from
my job in the city. I don’t use public
transportation because I want to help preserve the environment and protect
future generations from destroying the ozone layer or any of that other
crap. I work for a downtown law firm as
a file clerk; so I never learned to type – don’t judge. It’s a good job with 9 to 5 hours, but no way
can I afford to buy a car, much less afford to park it in one of the safer
garages in the city. The secretaries
look down on me for riding the bus, but at least I don’t lay out half my salary
on parking fees. Anyway, back to the
bag.
It
wasn’t exactly a bag in the true sense, like the bums carry. You know what I mean – the small, brown,
paper ones they can fit a pint of whiskey in and then sip on it at their
leisure all day long. I wouldn’t have
gone within ten feet of it had it been one of those; but then, you don’t
usually see bums riding the downtown express.
This was one of those fancy, what I like to call, tote bags. It was dark brown with a green and violet
flower pattern on both sides, a snap closure in the middle and two cloth
handles. It was fairly good size
too. I think if you took it to the
grocer, it would probably hold a couple gallons of milk and a frozen dinner or
two. But, somehow I knew in my heart of
hearts, it was never used as a grocery bag.
The
woman who carried it every day never got on or off at the same place in the
morning or in the evening. I noticed
this since I was always on before her and got off after she did. I didn’t pay much attention at first, but
some things just seem to catch your eye.
She was very stylishly dressed in expensive suits and heels and carried
a designer handbag, and the tote. She always
had a firm grip on the tote, but her purse just swung on her arm. When she sat, her purse was carelessly placed
on the seat next to her, but the tote was in her lap, cradled there in her arms
like a cherished newborn infant. Like I
said, I’m no Snoopy Sallie, but who could help but notice behavior such as
that?
Day
in and day out, it was always the same routine for her, until today. Sure, she got on at Third, which she’d never
done before, with her fancy outfit and handbag, and clutching that tote like it
had a million dollars inside. I was
reading a new mystery novel on the way to work this morning, so I didn’t see
where she got off. But I did see the
tote left on the seat. I couldn’t believe
my eyes. She had deliberately left her
precious cargo behind? Why, and for
whom? Was it documents? Was it drugs?
I watched anxiously to see who would pick it up, but no one paid any attention
to it. By the time I got to my stop, I realized
how foolish I had been thinking it was a kidnapper’s ransom or an installment
on a blackmail scheme, and I continued on my way to work. Once the bus got to the terminal, the driver
would take it to the lost and found department, the woman would claim it, and
that would be the end of it. No
international intrigue here – just a lady who got distracted and forgot what
was most likely her knitting. End of
story, right? Wrong.
As
I waited at the bus top to go home, I was again reading my mystery book. I had picked it up at the drug store based on
the picture on the cover of the knife dripping blood. I know it’s probably not dignified, but I
love all that type of nonsense, and this story offered it all. There was the horrific murder of a sexy
prostitute, a cop who was haunted by the image of her corpse – you get the
idea. It was absolute trash and I was
loving it. I was so involved in Chapter
4 that I almost didn’t see the tote right where the woman had left it that morning. It was still on the same seat, still right
next to the window, and still, no one was paying it any mind. Apparently, the drivers don’t look for any
items the passengers may have left behind, or perhaps they only did that after
the last run. I found it interesting too
that the same bus took me home as to work.
I had always thought the buses were rotated around during the day, but
evidently, that was not the case.
I
took the seat across from the one where the tote was and waited. Certainly, the woman would get on at some
point to reclaim her personal treasures, whatever they may be. We got to within two stops of mine, which is
almost at the end of the route, but still no tote woman, as I now referred to
her. What if she were ill? The bus company obviously didn’t have any
regard for their passengers’ belongings, so someone had to step in and be
responsible. This is where I come
in. As I pointed out at the start,
sticking my nose in other people’s affairs is definitely not one of my flaws,
but helping out my fellow man, or in this case, woman, is assuredly one of my
virtues. I slid across the row, grabbed
the tote and placed it under my coat. I
didn’t want the driver, or the one other passenger, to perceive me as a
thief. Since today was Friday, I was
going to take it home over the weekend to keep it safe, and whenever I again
saw the lady, I would inform her that I had her bag and that I would bring it
to her the very next day. It was a
simple enough plan, or so I had thought at the time.
I
was still holding the bag tightly under my coat when I ran into old Mrs. Jenson
in front of my apartment building. She
normally walked to the corner market to pick up her six-pack of beer after
supper. Why on Earth was she out now?
“Hey,
Susie Q,” she said. “What’s shaking?”
For
the record, my name is Angela.
“Not
a thing, Ms. J. Just home from work and
anxious to get inside so I can put my comfy shoes on.”
I
attempted to get by her and into the building when she grabbed my arm.
“What
you got there under your coat, Miss Chrissy?
You pick up your lottery winnings?”
I
pulled away from her and made my way to the building’s front entrance.
“My
supper, Ms. J. Just trying to keep it
warm,” I said as I entered and closed the door behind me.
When
I looked through the peephole, she was still standing there, staring. I knew that answer wouldn’t satisfy her and
that she would knock on my door on her way back from the store. I made up my mind I wouldn’t answer since she’d
want to come in. Knowing what a Peeping
Penny she was, I knew she would want to look inside the tote, and I could never
allow that. I was now responsible for it
and I wasn’t about to let anyone and everyone violate it. I, however, was obligated to determine its
contents, albeit behind the locked door of my apartment. What if there was medication in there that would
go bad without refrigeration? I put the
bag on my coffee table, unsnapped it and looked inside. I couldn’t believe my eyes.
The
only items in there were a thermos that contained what used to be hot coffee,
now very cold, and a key on a small ring that also held a circular plastic disk
with the name and logo of Ken’s Keep-It-Safe Storage printed on it. They were located over on Logan Avenue, and I
recalled tote woman had caught the bus on the evening run a couple of times
from the corner of Logan and Fifth. Had
she been to Ken’s on those occasions?
Why bring a thermos filled with coffee to a storage unit? Did she sit inside sorting out stolen
diamonds or put counterfeit bills into stacks of hundreds and twenties? I was being ridiculous again, right? Or was I…
I
noticed the key had the number 74 cut into it, not that it mattered to me. I wasn’t about to cross the line of decency
and pry into a stranger’s inner sanctum.
Then again, why pair coffee with a storage unit? She didn’t drink any of it on the bus. If she had, I would have been made aware
because the drivers on that route permitted no open food items or beverages
consumed. What did she do with the
coffee in the unit? Did she share it
with her hostage? I knew it. That’s what all the mystery and covert
behavior were all about. That woman –
that sadistic fiend, would board the bus with her coffee and key, hanging on to
her bag as if it contained the Crown Jewels.
She would then make a stop at the unit only to provide the minimum
nutrition to the lover who had rejected her, who now only barely existed,
shackled inside a hermetically sealed, and most likely soundproof, oversized
box. That’s why she walked away from the
bag. Her lust for torment has been
fulfilled and she’s left him there to die.
I must go to him and set him free from his ghastly prison.
I’m
glad I refilled the thermos and brought it with me before I came to number 74. These units can be quite chilly once the sun
goes down. Who knew? I waited until after dinner to catch the bus
to Ken’s. Access to the units is
twenty-four hours, seven days a week, and the buses run until midnight, so I
had plenty of time to free her captive and still make the last run out of the
terminal. The place is all gated and
fairly well lit, but not so much as to preclude discretion. I found number 74 toward the back, and seeing
no one around any of the units at this late hour, I made my move and unlocked
number 74. There was a pull string bulb
set-up in the center, so I lit the unit up and pulled down the door to prevent
any Spying Sally’s from interfering with my mission. I heard a click that was quite
comforting. Apparently, the doors auto
lock when they are pulled down. I’m sure
there’s a lever in here somewhere to release the door just like there are in
car trunks, but I’ll look for that later.
My priority is to locate, and unchain, this heartless killer’s prey.
Imagine
my surprise to find the unit contained only stacks of boxes filled with old
clothes, albums filled with black and white photographs, a couple of tables
with missing legs and a heavily chipped dresser sans mirror. There was also a chair pulled up to the
dresser that looked as if it had been utilized as a port-a-potty catering to
every raccoon, squirrel, and flock of birds in the tri-state area. There was definitely no tortured soul
hog-tied and crying in a corner, but there was an abundance of dust and cobwebs
everywhere on everything in the unit. It
became clear to me that tote woman had not come into this unit for several
months, at a minimum. So, why carry the
key around and not go into the unit? Why
protect that $5.00 bag as if it contained the Hope diamond? Why…
Well,
no sense agonizing over the habits of a stranger, however odd they might
be. I managed to brush all the crap off
the chair so I could sit and have some coffee.
It does get chilly in these units at night. Oh, sorry, I think I already mentioned that. See, when the light was on, it felt a bit
warmer, but after the bulb burned out awhile ago, the temperature seems to have
been steadily dropping. I’m sure that’s
my imagination though. I mean, how cold
could it possibly get since no air can get in.
Oh yeah, I forgot about that.
They seal up real tight once the door is pulled down and locked. The office here usually opens at noon on
Mondays, but with this being a holiday weekend, no one will be in there until
noon on Tuesday. I have no doubt my tote
woman will be their first customer when they open so she can get a replacement
key for this unit. I’m certain she’ll
feel guilty about neglecting it for so long and will want to pop in and clean
the place up.
