What I Did on My Summer Vacation, by Mary (1)

Chapter 3

Mary turned around. She stopped where the culvert ran under the street and crossed someone's lawn to a big oak that seemed older than the town. Growing beside a ditch. Reaching high its green eaves. Covered in welts and scars and knots. There was a hole in one side. Mary looked around. She took something out of her pocket and stuffed it into the hole. She topped it with fallen tree matter. She cleared off her hands and began walking again.

Kaplan pulled out of the E-Z mart parking lot and traced her to the Henderson house. Sammy came out and boisterously shouted 'GOOD MORNING' at her. Kaplan heard it clear down the street through his window. Mary seemed taken aback. He repeated himself in different voices. GOOD MORNING like Billy Crystal. GOOD MORNING like Arnold Schwarzenegger. GOOD MORNING like Christopher Walken. Someone shouted from inside the house. The two children ran off giggling and disappeared into the backyard.

Kaplan lowered his binoculars. He eased off the brake and drove away.

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'Stop saying it was me.'

Kaplan stopped the playback and closed his laptop. Night was dark. The stars were out and the moon was just beginning to reform from black nothingness. He checked the tightness on his gloves and walked towards the apartment complex.

The time was eleven thirty-five. Marianne Jones had left three hours ago. Kaplan had traced her to Dickson Street. Kaplan climbed the stairs and tested Mrs. Jones's door. He took a bag of metal pins out of his pocket and in fifteen seconds he had the deadbolt unlocked. He went inside and closed the door. He turned on his flashlight.

An off-white pleather couch, a glass coffee table, the TV. A stereo system adjacent to the bedroom wall. Bookshelf rightwards of the door. He checked the book titles. Gun Care for Pros. So You Want to Be a Samurai. He reached behind the TV and claimed the bug from its backside. He studied the kitchen. Pristine countertops and linoleum and no stains on the stove. Cabinets stocked with dry beans and basmati rice and clean ceramic dishes and a multitude of drink glasses. Liquor cabinet stocked with pints of various liquor and vermouth. Beside the Keurig a well-stocked spice tree.

He felt inside above the doors of each cabinet. He checked the fridge. Milk and half-and-half. Eggs. A gallon bag filled with bacon. Lettuce and cabbage and other vegetables hid within translucent bags. He closed the fridge and checked the freezer. Bags of meat each labeled. Venison and quail and wild swine.

Kaplan closed the freezer and went through the frame into the living room. Two of his hairs brushed the bottom of the top of the frame. He paused.

He went into the bathroom and turned on the light. As clean as the kitchen. He re-adjusted his hair using her mirror. He smelled her perfume. He checked the sink cabinets. He opened the second door that was to the left of the shower. It was a walk-in closet with another door across its dark space. He entered the closet. A bouldering mat. Various rock-climbing paraphernalia hung on a coatrack. Orange hunting gear. A multitude of sundresses. He checked through these and carefully returned them to where they were. He looked at her gun locker sequestered between the back end of a utility closet and the bedroom wall. Each stand was taken. Ruger Kryptek, M&P 15, S&W 1020, Colt M4 carbine. He picked the locks on the main door and the ammunition drawer. He unloaded each firearm and sequestered their bullets and cartridges in the ammunition drawer. The process took him roughly a minute. He carefully replaced the guns and closed the rack silently.

He looked inside the bedroom. Her bed was queen-sized and neatly made. She had a green beanbag chair in the corner. A Jimi Hendrix poster and a Morrissey poster and a rear reclining nude painting of who seemed to be Marianne herself. Kaplan opened and closed her laptop. He checked under the bed and inside her end table and pulled out a Ruger shotgun and three snub-nosed pistols, all Colts. He took their ammunition and threw these inside the Wal-Mart bag she used as a trash-bag for her bedroom can. He tied the bag closed loosely. After replacing the guns he looked under the bed again. There was a box down there. He pulled out the meter-long box. He opened it and watched his reflection analyze the sharpened, polished metal of a katana. Knelt there on the floor, Kaplan heard someone coughing next door. He closed the box and sequestered it behind the gun rack. Kaplan blinked. He removed the katana box and removed an AK 47 from the space behind the rack. He unloaded it and hid the clip and returned the rifle and katana to their hiding place.