NOONE
Body Count
A few days after talking to the detective Noone got a call from Marchant, telling him to take a look at apartment 423. The couple there had moved out and he wanted it ready to rent. Marchant said he already had a woman interested, but needed it ready for her to see it.
“I don’t remember seeing anyone loading boxes or carrying furniture out,” Noone told him.
“Don’t worry about that. I think they left during the night, they owed me back rent. Just get in there and let me know if it needs repairs and when you can have it ready. Any furniture or anything in there, get rid of. Of course if any of it is worth anything, call that used furniture store two blocks over and have them pick it up and send me a check.” Marchant said.
“I’ll get right on it.” Noone answered.
“Good, I want to be able to show it to her soon. No need to lose another month’s rent.” Marchant said and then hung up.
When Noone got into 423 he noticed all the Varner’s personal things were gone but most of the furniture was still there. It seemed funny to him that the apartment was as clean as it was. People who supposedly move out in the middle of the night or without notice to avoid eviction, don’t usually clean one so well when they are vacating it. He called Hal Baker from the furniture store and an hour later he was Johnny on the spot. Baker made him a price for the better pieces and wrote a check right then which Noone carried down and put into the rent slot on the first floor entrance. Within a little over an hour later, everything Baker paid for was gone.
Noone moved a couple of things into his apartment, exchanging them for his own and hauled the rest to the dumpster outside. Then he went back to 423 and did some paint touchups, which was everything the apartment needed. With all of that done he called Marchant by 5:30, telling him the apartment was ready.
As Noone sat in his chair that night, his feet resting on his newly acquired hassock staring down at the laptop computer he found in its bag inside the hidden compartment of the hassock, he thought it was quite odd. First that the Varner’s, in 423, had gotten behind in their rent, Marchant was a stickler for collecting rent on time or filing for eviction and second that a couple could move out from the fourth floor and him not be aware of it at all. Not even just odd but darn near impossible, even if they did it in the middle of the night. Then when he was cleaning the apartment out and decided to keep this hassock, that he found a laptop inside its compartment. Anyone he ever knew of would not leave a computer behind, even if they were sneaking out in the middle of the night. Noone placed the laptop back in the hassock’s compartment, at least for now.
A week later Felicia Tanner moved into 423. She was in her mid thirties, apparently single and no pets. She had a couple of friends help her move in and get the apartment set up. Tanner was tall not bad looking, but very thin he thought, almost sickly looking thin.
During the next month things went along as they normally did, keeping up the cleaning of halls, stairs, entry and the usual mundane repairs in several apartments. There had been no calls from Marchant complaining or with priorities changed. All in all, Noone’s life was flowing along quietly, just as he preferred. He had almost put the questions he had about the Varner’s out of his mind.
On Tuesday morning while he was enjoying a breakfast at the diner he saw detective Forbes come through the door and head to his table.
“Good morning Detective, to what do I owe this visit, just coincidence again?” Noone asked Forbes as he stopped and stood over him.
“No Mr. Noone, I wouldn’t exactly say that. I have a few questions I would like to ask you if I may.” Forbes answered in a quiet tone, but slightly insistent.
“Of course, sit down. Is this about Ms. Miller again?” Noone asked.
“No, did you know a couple named Varner, who lived in apartment 423 of your building recently?” The detective queried.
“Of course I did. They moved out secretly a little over a month ago. Mr. Marchant said they were avoiding eviction or catching up on back rent.” Noone told him matter-of –factly.
“Well you see that’s odd. I called Mr. Marchant and he said the same thing. But we got a call from a friend of Mrs. Varner’s a couple of days ago saying she hadn’t heard from them in almost two months.” Forbes said and then continued. “I called around and they haven’t filed a change of address, got a new phone number, and both of them quit their jobs over the phone with their bosses, just about the time Mrs. Varner’s friend says she stopped hearing from them.”
“I can tell you, I got a call from Marchant about 6 weeks ago. He said they had moved out during the middle of the night, owing him. He had me get rid of what they left behind, furniture mainly, their personal belongings were gone. I painted their apartment and another tenant moved in a week later. Most of their furniture I sold for Marchant to Mr. Baker for his store. I did keep a hassock for myself after Baker didn’t want it and a couple of other small things. I haven’t heard any more about them until just now from you.”
“You didn’t see or hear them moving out? I would think you had.” Forbes asked.
“No and I thought that was odd at the time. But they were gone, so I just did my job. People do move in and out of the building every now and then. Marchant’s building isn’t what you would call upscale,” Noone answered.
“True, well if you think of anything at all please let me know. You know where to find me.” Forbes said as he turned to leave. “Thank you for talking to me about it, just the same.”
“You’re welcome, detective.” Noone said. He didn’t mention the laptop and knew he should have, but now his own curiosity was peeked. He wanted to take another look for himself, and then he could say he found it in the hassock’s secret compartment.
*******
Bill Forbes did not feel good about his conversation with Mr. Noone. However he had nothing to put his finger on for suspicion either. He did know that he was going to dig more into this and enlist Sam’s aid in the digging, even if it only looked like a missing person’s request.
Over the next two weeks Forbes and Sam did uncover a little more information, both on Mr. Marchant and his apartment building rather than the Varner’s. What really got his curiosity up more though was the lack of information on Mr. Noone, the maintenance man prior to three years ago.
He and Sam agreed they needed to talk to Noone again just as soon as they could find a solid reason.
*******
Noone had spent quite a bit of time in the past two weeks at night when there were no duties to perform, on the laptop. Although it had been a long time since he had done anything like this and initially he skill was rusty, to say the least. He did finally crack the password on the computer and had looked at all the files.
Nothing much was there except to usual games they played, some stored photos and a few emails that appeared to be innocent enough with friends out on the coast merely keeping in touch.
Mr. Varner or Ted as he was called was in construction and his wife Sarah was a sales girl in department stores. They appeared to be just starting out in life together and had moved from the coast to here looking for better future opportunity.
They had a budget program and if it wasn’t for what Marchant had said two months ago, it looked like they had been on time with all their payments until just before they left.
Noone decided to erase any trace that he had accessed the computer, wipe any trace of his dna or fingerprints from the keyboard and all but the outer edge. Then tomorrow he was going to call detective Forbes and get it to him, he was going to say he had just now accidently found it in the secret compartment of the hassock.
He knew all he could from this computer and all it had done was make him more suspicious about their leaving.
As Noone was putting the computer back into the hassock, he got a call from Marchant. His boss told him to go and check on apartment 212, Mandy Johnson’s apartment; she had called about a strange noise in her vent ducts.
As Noone headed for his apartment door, he got one of those feelings like hairs prickling on the back of his neck. He turned out all his apartment lights before opening the door and then quickly pulled the laptop out of its bag and closed the hassock lid, carrying the laptop itself inserted between his back and pants. Then, he went out the door to apartment 212.
Noone knocked on the door to 212 and Mandy answered.
“Hi Mr. Noone, gee that was quick. I just called Mr. Marchant ten minutes ago when I heard this rattling at that air vent.”Mandy told him as she pointed to one in wall near the ceiling.
“Let’s have a look.” Noone replied. He walked over to the vent and looked inside. There was a screw bouncing around against the inside the vent cover as the air blew. Noone took the multipurpose knife he carried out of his pocket opened the Phillips head screw driver tool and took the cover off so he could get the loose screw out. Then he put the cover back on. “There you go, it was just this loose screw. The noise will stop now.”
“Thank you so much, I just put Danna down and was afraid it would keep her awake.” Mandy said. Then she walked Noone to the door and he left.
Noone walked back to his apartment and went inside. When he turned on the lights and looked at the hassock he could tell it had been opened because it was not fully closed. Noone knew he had closed it completely because it always took a little push to completely seat the top back down.
Someone had been here while he was gone. Noone didn’t even go to the hassock, instead he put on his windbreaker and went right back out, locking his door behind him. Then he walked to the buildings entry and left. While he walked down the sidewalk he wondered who had the ability to come into his apartment and leave so quickly and leave no trace of a break-in. Secondly why break in and look in the hassock.
Noone stopped at the diner and ordered a cup of coffee. The waitress stalled, standing in front of him after she poured the black steaming liquid into his cup.
“Can I get you anything else?” She asked.
“No that will be fine, thank you.” He answered absent mindedly.
“I don’t see you very often in here at this time of day. Is everything okay?” She asked.
“Huh, oh yes, I just wanted a few minutes away to think. I needed a break.” Noone said, trying to sound more matter of fact than contemplative.
“I can sure understand that. Well, if you need anything else, just let me know.” She answered and then walked away to talk to other customers.
Noone nodded in assent but didn’t answer. The only person he could think of who could get in and out of his apartment that easily would be Marchant. But, if Marchant had done that, then why would he and why just look into the hassock. Even more so if he was looking for the computer, how did he know it was there in the first place? Something wasn’t right here, now more than before.
He finished his coffee and paid the waitress, leaving her as much of a tip as the bill had come to itself. Then he went outside and started walking farther down the street, away from the apartment building. Noone had made his decision; as much as he didn’t want to, it was time to talk to detective Forbes.
Twenty minutes later he was inside the police precinct headquarters. He had asked the duty desk sergeant if he could talk to the detective and was waiting on a bench along the wall. Noone didn’t care for police stations much, he found them to be noisy and filled with people who were either in trouble and wanted to be elsewhere or those attempting to keep them there.
After what seemed like an eternity Forbes appeared from a hallway to his left, when he neared the bench he asked. “What can I help you with Mr. Noone?”
“Can we talk more privately; I mean at least a little more so than here in the hallway?” Noone asked the detective, rather than an answer.
“Sure, follow me back to the squad room.” Detective Forbes answered. Once they were at Forbes desk he motioned to a chair beside his desk and offered Noone a seat.
“Thank you, this may be nothing, but I found this inside the hassock I kept from the Varner’s apartment. It was inside a compartment under the top.” Noone told him while he was sliding out from between his shirt and pants at his back under his windbreaker.
“You just found it, or how long ago?” Forbes asked.
“Just yesterday, I was cleaning my apartment and found out the top opened up. This laptop was inside.” Noone said and then continued. “I didn’t think too much about it until I returned tonight from doing a repair in apartment 212 and it appeared that someone had been in my apartment and opened that hassock, like they were looking for something.”
“What makes you think that?” The Detective asked.
“The top was not closed completely and I know it was when I walked out. Also I had a feeling like I was being watched when I left to go do the repair, if that sounds odd. That’s why I had put the laptop in my belt at my back when I went up to the apartment, instead of leaving it in my apartment.” Noone answered.
“I see now why you came here. Understand I am glad you did because I wanted to talk to you soon anyway. This just puts some new parameters into the mix.” Detective Forbes said and then continued. “My partner and I have been doing some research, in the broad sense concerning the seeming disappearance of the Varner couple. One thing that bothers us both is the very limited information about you in any of the systems we checked. I am not accusing you of anything, yet, there again we could find almost nothing about you beyond three years ago. Can you shed some light on why that would be?”
“I wondered when that would come up, especially since your call from friends of the Varner’s. I can shed more than some light on it detective, however even I can only add about a little more than three years more.” Noone told Forbes and let the statement hang in midair for a few seconds.
“What do you mean only three more years Mr. Noone? Why would you only be able to tell me more about yourself for only the last less than seven years? Is it top secret or you an alien from outer space. Don’t try playing with me; I have a low tolerance for bullshit.” Forbes answered without the least hint of amusement in his tone.
“I assure you I am not playing with you detective.” Noone told him.
