“The damage deposit was his biggest concern,” she whispered to Morgan in outrage. “Is that the thought people have after we’ve gone?” Sadness struck her at the idea. And frustration at the way the world functioned. It wasn’t the landlord’s fault, but it was a reality check.
“No,” Morgan said, a thread of anger in his voice. “He also wants to make sure he’s not stuck having to clean the mess out.”
“Damn, it’s a tough world.” She looked at the rougher neighborhood. “Maybe we’re misjudging him in that he needs the rent to survive, and having to clean out and clean up a suite will set him back a month’s rent.”
“Most likely.” But his tone was brusque.
She slid her hand into his and squeezed gently.
When he squeezed back, she realized how her actions had been the right thing to do. She couldn’t forget that regardless of what else was going on, this was a personal loss.
The landlord came out wheezing and puffing, an ash-tipped cigarette shaking at the corner of his mouth with every word. “Here it is.”
He unlocked the door to the basement suite and let them inside. “Figure out how long you need to clean this mess out so I can set a new move-in date for renters.”
“Will do,” Morgan said quietly.
She could understand but wished the man had a little more heart. A man had died. And that man had family.
As if realizing how he’d sounded, the landlord added, “Condolences on the loss of your bother.” Then he scampered back outside.
Jazz stood just inside the door and stared around her at the small apartment. This was where Billy had lived? Funny how she’d never considered what his lifestyle was like. He’d always been sleazy to her – his home was no different. Evidence of the police presence was everywhere, with cushions lifted and tossed onto the broken down loveseat and dusting powder on the wall. Dirty dishes littered the counter, and a box of kid’s cereal sat open on the counter. The coffee pot on the side was half-full of cold coffee.
A life interrupted.
She focused on the personal details, wondering who else had been here. Who else might have stayed here with him? Outside of a few cheap paintings on the wall, she couldn’t see anything. It was a bachelor apartment. The bedroom was on the left. She headed toward it, leaving Morgan to his painful memories as he stood off to the one side and stared at the remnants of his brother’s life.
In the bedroom there was a double bed, bedding tossed to the side and clothes dropped to the floor. She headed for the dresser first. Feeling like a voyeur, she opened the top drawer and after finding it full of underwear and socks, she quickly moved to the next and the next. All clothing. No hidden stash of money or motive. She was looking for a big sign to say, “Hey Morgan. This is why I was an asshole and got myself murdered.”
Of course that was never going to happen, but hey, she could hope. Moving to the night table, she found a box of condoms that gave her an icky feeling even while she was mentally patting the dead man on his non-existent shoulder for caring enough to not procreate. There were a few other things tossed into the drawer, but nothing that made any sense to her. But they might to Morgan.
She bent to look under the bed and saw more dust bunnies than she cared to. The bed would have to be checked as well, but as she didn’t have gloves, she was going to wait for Morgan.
The closet was next. She opened the double doors, unsurprised to see snowboarding gear jammed inside instead of clothing. There were a few hoodies and several jackets. What she couldn’t see was anything female. Of course she hadn’t made it to the bathroom yet.
Morgan appeared in the doorway, “Do you see anything?”
“Not really. There are a few things you should take a look at in the night table, but they don’t mean anything to me. Also…” she hesitated and turned to face him, “I think we should probably toss the bed.”
His jaw firmed but he nodded.
“Let’s do it.” He went to the end of the bed and lifted the top mattress up into the air. She looked underneath, but there was nothing there. “It’s clear.”
He lowered the mattress, then squatted and lifted both the mattress and box spring in the air.
She gave a startled squeak, but raced to the front and grabbed the envelope tucked up against the frame on the underside. “I’ve got something.”
He waited until she was clear before replacing both. He held out his hand for the envelope. She gave it to him and waited. He opened it up and pulled out the letter inside. Something fluttered to the floor.
*
Morgan opened the letter. A muscle worked in his jaw as he started to read. He collapsed on the end of the bed and muttered, “Shit.”
Then read out loud.
Dear brother. Not sure if you are going to be reading this or if it’s going to hit the garbage like so many others have done over the years. I’m an asshole. In my days when I’d like to be a better person, I write to you. Then I realize I’m never going to change and throw them out. Once again I’m full of remorse. I know it too will pass.
I was a shit to you about Jazz. I just couldn’t leave it alone. You had what I wanted. What I deserved, and what I’d been working on long and hard. Then one day you come breezing into town to visit me, take one look at her, and that’s it – bam – she falls at your feet. It’s not like I wasn’t getting pieces on the side while I was working on her, but it just pissed me off, you know?
Everything in your life has been easy. Mine – shit.
Still, I shouldn’t have done my damnedest to break you two up. She was never going to be mine. But that didn’t mean I was happy to have her be yours.
Like I said, I’m a shit.
But this time I might have crossed the line. Because someone I was screwing literally at the time I was screwing up your life didn’t like my methods. Now, I wouldn’t go so far as to say that they were pissed at me, but more they were pissed at her. Because really… given a fair shot, I’d have dropped every bitch in my vicinity to grab Jazz, and everyone around me knew it. There were also many people panting after you. Both sexes by the way.
Do you tango in both directions? I just can’t see my brother doing that. But who knows?
I know I’m going to toss this letter anyway, so I can say whatever the hell I want to. Who knew what a wordsmith I’d become? I don’t know if I should tell you the truth or not. I figured I would, but not until I was ready to pull out of town. So this letter is kind of a prelude. If I find the guts to say this to your face, awesome… maybe fun even. But you’re likely to beat the shit out of me, and I’m really not into you ruining my pretty face.
So this letter will have to suffice. I’m thinking this weekend is going to be my ticket out of here. I found a stash of cash – of course the owner doesn’t know about it. But whatever, I need it to get the hell out of town. So the end of the month is it.
I might see you before I go, but if not and this ends up in your mailbox, you’ll know that I haven’t changed. But I’m young and there are years ahead of me to grow and improve.
Snicker. As if. Life is way too much fun for me to ruin it with all that honor and moral code. Like seriously? You’ve been drilling that down my throat since forever – it didn’t take back then, and it sure as hell isn’t going to take now.
Besides, only the good die young. And I’m going to live to a ripe old age and screw as many people as I can in the process.
After all, who’s going to stop me?
Not you.
See you later, brother.
Billy.