Ding Dong Dead

38

When the women leave the banquet hall, Jerome rises up from behind the stage curtain and stretches out his cramped muscles. Lucky for him, he heard them fumbling around with the lock and whispering. If they’d found him asleep in a stage chair, he’d have been screwed. In the nick of time, he took a dive behind the stage and didn’t move a single muscle.

They stayed long enough to worry him, his body complaining like all get-out, but he remained in a frozen position. How much longer could he do it?

As long as it takes, he said in his head more than once.

He sure heard an earful, though. Man! Craziness, he thinks, is in the eye of the beholder. It’s shifty. Who gets to decide? Other crazies?

He heard the whole thing from beginning to end, and now he’s in the driver’s seat again. He is back on track, just like the strip of lighting he installed over the stage.

For a time there, he’d lost their trail. But Jerome’s a smart guy. He knew they’d show up at the building eventually. He’s good at waiting, like when he’s after a bird. Cats are the same way, although he hates cats, for what they do to birds. But he’s an observer of behavior, and cats know how to get what they want.

It’s only a matter of who has the most patience.

He rummages through the garbage in the break room, pulling out the burger bags and eating what he can find, pieces of bun, a little hamburger meat, bits of lettuce. Finished with the scraps, he wipes his hands on the gray overalls. He decides right on the spot that he likes to wear this one-piece outfit. The pockets are wide and deep, perfect to fit a bird inside.

Weapons and birds are his fields of expertise.

Everybody’s special in some way, if you just take time to find it and accept it. You don’t have any control over some things, so go with the flow, he always says, and make use of your skills.

The women left some coffee in the pot, lukewarm, but hey, beggars can’t be choosers.

He pours a little for himself, using the same cup that Gretchen Birch drank from, the one with her name on it and little dolls dancing around the rim. He can smell her scent right along with the coffee smell, and it is as rich as cream.

Jerome inhales, enjoying himself immensely, satisfied with life.

He isn’t in any kind of hurry.

Because he knows exactly where they are going.