Mary, Mary

Chapter 73

To: agriner@latimes.com From: Mary Smith To: Arnold Griner: Guess what? I followed you home to your new apartment, after you had dinner with friends at that Asia de Cuba place on Sunset.

You parked under the building and took the Stairs up the back. Huffing up a single flight?

I could see that you're out of shape, Arnold.

And out of time, I'm afraid.

I waited outside until your apartment lights came on, and then I followed. i wasn't as afraid anymore, not like I used to be. The gun used to feel strange and unwieldy in my hand. Now it's like I barely know it's there.

You haven't installed a dead bolt on your back door. Maybe you've been meaning to but you've been too busy with the move; or maybe you just felt a little safer in the new place so it didn't seem to matter. You'd be right about that last part. It doesn't matter-not anymore.

It was dark in the kitchen when I came in, but you had the lights and TV on in the living room. There was also a carving knife on the counter next to the sink, but I left it where it was.

I had my own, which is something you probably already knew about me - if you read my other e-mails.

I waited for as long as I could bear to in the kitchen, listening to you and your companion. I couldn't hear exactly what you were saying to each other, but I liked the sound of your voices. I even liked knowing that I'd be the last person to ever hear them.

Then the nervousness started to come back. It was just a little at first, but I knew it would get worse if I waited much longer.

I could have left the condo right then if I wanted to, and you'd never even have known I was there.

That's one way you're like the others. No one seems to know I'm around until their time comes. The Invisible Woman, that's me. That's a lot of us, actually.

When I waltzed into the living room, you both jumped up at the same time. I made sure you saw the gun, and you stayed still after that. I wanted to ask if you knew why I came for you, why you deserved to die, but I was afraid I wouldn't finish if I didn't do it right away.

I pulled the trigger, and you fell flat on your back. Your roommate screeched; then he tried to run. I couldn't imagine where he thought he was going to escape to.

I shot him, and I think he may have died immediately. You both seemed to just die. Not much fight in you, especially considering what a snippy, nasty little man you are.

Good-bye, Arnold. You're gone, and know what else? You're already forgotten.