Filmed in black and white.
There were three small black birds sitting on a branch of the backyard oak tree. The outer two were chirping, maybe to each other, but the middle bird stared straight ahead. It wasn’t making a peep.
Thirty feet away on the other side of an open window facing that tree, Maggie washed a coffee mug. It was one of twenty five in her collection. What started as a college gift exchange had turned into her obsession. There were mugs from Paris, Moscow and Mumbai. There were some her friends gave her. There were quite a few purchased on Etsy after a bottle or two of wine.
The pink one in her hand came from her best friend, Beth. It was two birthdays ago. It featured a hand-painted slug on the side in reference to her last boyfriend. An inside joke that made her giggle each time she looked at the green creature. Maggie was giving it one more sponge cycle around the inside of the cup when she felt like someone or something was watching her. She looked up from her work and saw the birds.
The two outer birds kept chirping and the middle one kept staring.
Maggie slowly tilted her head to the left. Her wavy shoulder length black hair slid down past her collarbone a few inches. She brought her head back up. The bird kept staring. She wondered if it was normal behavior. Something she had never witnessed in twenty-eight years of life. It felt strange. She sat the mug down in the steel sink and then turned off both faucet knobs. She slowly raised her hands close to the screen and then clapped them as hard as she could. Soap suds exploded from her hands in both directions. It was so strong that when the skin from each hand slapped together it sent an electric shock jolting through her fingers. The two outer birds quit chirping and looked her direction. Then they looked around. The one on the right went back to chirping. The middle bird kept staring. Silent.
She shook her hands to neutralize the stinging sensation as she watched the little bird.
“Look at something else!” The scream caught her off guard. It happened without a thought. Maggie took a deep breath and giggled. There she was screaming at a bird for maybe looking at her. Maybe it was that third cup of coffee, she thought. The house returned to silence.
A gust of warm summer wind rattled the metal poles of a nearby wind chime causing them to DING... DING, DING... DING. The two outer birds leapt from the branch and took flight. The middle bird kept staring.
Maggie shook it off and returned to cleaning her slug mug. She turned on the hot water, picked it up and moved it around under the stream, washing away the remaining soap. She grabbed the blue dish towel and wiped it dry. As she reached up and to her left to put the mug back in the cabinet, Maggie glanced back out the window as the bird fell from the branch. She popped up on the tips of her black-socked feet to see the bird laying sideways on the grass.
*KNOCK* *KNOCK* *KNOCK*
Maggie jumped and dropped the mug at the same time.
“Shit!” She bounced backward to dodge the explosion of ceramic shards from the impact of the mug crashing onto the tiled floor.
*KNOCK* *KNOCK* *KNOCK*
“Fuck.” Maggie left the kitchen, walking through the dining room then into the living room.
“Just a minute,” she yelled as she turned to her right and entered the bathroom.
*CLICK*
The four spiral CFL bulbs above the mirror came to life. Maggie grabbed a black hair band from the counter and pulled her hair into a ponytail. She then splashed cool water on her face and ran her index fingers along her lower eyelids and blinked multiple times. She examined herself in the mirror turning her head to the left then the right. She leaned closer to check her teeth and the blemish on her right cheek.
As she backed away, Maggie looked at her reflection and focused on the extra large gray shirt featuring a faded Baltimore Orioles logo in the center. It was one of the few artifacts remaining from that most recent relationship. Actually with the mug now in pieces, it was the last thing to do with him in the house. She liked the worn down thin cotton material. For a long time after every wash she could still smell him. Then after some time that scent disappeared as a small hole appeared near the collar. That day she pulled it out of the dryer, she examined the hole and then instinctually sniffed it only to find it smelled like her.
Standing in the small bathroom, she gripped the bottom of the shirt and pulled it up and off her body and tossed it atop a small pile of clothes on the white-tiled floor. She lifted each foot and removed the thick black socks and tossed them on the pile.
Maggie grabbed a basic white bra dangling off the towel rack, slid her arms through the straps and reached behind and clasped it together.
*KNOCK* *KNOCK* *KNOCK*
“Jesus. What the fuck?” She exited the bathroom and yelled, “One more minute, please.”
Maggie entered her bedroom and grabbed a navy blue dress that rested atop a mountain of clean clothes piled on her bed. It was the next task on her list of Saturday morning chores that started with the dishes in the sink. She pulled the cotton dress down over her chest and then let it fall into place. She made some minor adjustments to how to the dress fit as she exited the room.
*CLICK*
Maggie unlocked the dead bolt then reached down and turned the knob to open her front door.
“Good morning, Miss.” The elderly man sat down his briefcase on his right side and tipped his black hat with his left hand at the same time. He then extended his right hand to shake.
“Good morning.” Maggie extended her right hand to complete the greeting.
“My name is Fredrick, but you can call me Fred.” He spoke softly. His voice sounded tired.
“Nice to meet you Fred. I’m Maggie. How may I help you?”
“I’m selling encyclopedias.”
“You’re selling encyclopedias?” She hoped she didn’t sound too stunned.
“You’d be surprised to find out that’s a common reaction before I’m kicked off the porch and move on to the next house. Guessing that’s what’s about to happen here.” Fred started to reach for his briefcase.
“If you don’t mind me asking, why are you even trying to sell encyclopedias? That’s what the internet is for.”
“I’ve never used the internet. Don’t have a need, but the nice thing about this encyclopedia set is that it comes with a download for an application for your computer and you can go onto their website.”
“Sorry, but then why would I want the books?”
“That’s fair. Some people like to display them. Reminds them of their past. I’ve been told some people like to keep a volume bedside or even on their toilet. Just hope they don’t drop it.” Fred chuckled.
Maggie couldn’t decide if that was a planned line or not, but she gave him credit for trying and giggled at his joke. She examined Fred’s face. He looked tired. Sweaty. She was at a loss why anyone would buy this product, but she felt for the man. “Does it remind you of your past?”
“It does. We could never afford them, so I had to use them at the library or at a friend’s house. Of course back then there was an East and West Germany and of course the USSR.”
“You’re not doing a good job of selling your books when you remind me they quickly become outdated.” Maggie laughed.
“Well Maggie, I assume you’re going to be like the rest the folks I’ve asked and tell me good luck. Might as well be honest with you. It’s just nice to have a conversation and not just have another door slammed in my face.”
“How long have you been selling them?”
“It’s my first day, actually.” Fred broke eye contact to adjust his black suit jacket.
“Have you sold any?”
“Just one. I’ve been at it for about four hours.”
“That’s good you sold a set. Don’t they say the first one is the hardest?”
“Not sure I’ve heard that one, but if so maybe they never sold a second thing.”
They both laughed.
Fred removed his hat and waved it in front of his face to create a breeze. A f beads of sweat rolled down his face. “It’s a beautiful morning, but really hot when you’re wearing a monkey suit and walking door to door.”
“Would you like a glass of water? I have some cold water in the fridge.”
“That would be very nice of you, Maggie.”
“Please come in and have a seat here in the living room. I’ll go get your drink.”
Maggie led Fred into the room and gestured toward the small white chair that’s back faced the picture window.
“Have a seat. I’ll go grab your water.”
Fred sat down on the dark gray plush seat. He looked around the room. There was a TV mounted on the wall. Below it an entertainment stand that held various electronic boxes he didn’t recognize. There was a coffee table and then a matching couch, which was positioned across from him and up against what he presumed was the wall that divided the living room from the master bedroom. The walls a soft blue with a hint of gray. White trimming and white ceilings. Fred thought to himself
Maggie walked into the kitchen and at the last second remembered the shattered mug. She studied the floor as she tiptoed across it until she reached the cabinet that held the drinking glasses. Second shelf up just left of the sink. She retrieved a glass and then retraced her steps to the fridge where she poured water from a glass pitcher before replacing it on the shelf. As she returned to the living room she noticed Fred was looking out the window toward the street.
“Here you are.” Maggie got his attention and handed him the glass. She took two steps backward before sitting on the couch.
“Bless your heart.” Fred took a big drink, closed his eyes and tilted his head back. He acted as if it was the best drink of water he had in his life. He opened his eyes and smiled. “This is perfect. Thank you.”
“No problem, really. It is hot out there. I just saw a bird drop dead in my backyard.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes.”
“I’m not sure I’ve ever seen a bird die in front of me.”
“Well, I have.”
“Life is a funny thing isn’t it?”
“I guess.” Maggie pulled at her dress and then looked past Fred to watch a young girl ride her bicycle past the house. She returned her attention to Fred. “So about your encyclopedias?”
“Oh yes, sorry.” Fred took another drink and then sat the glass on a small table just to the right of his chair. He then leaned over the left side of the chair and unlatched his briefcase and retrieved a leather-bound book. The elderly salesman then offered the book to his young client.
“My Granny used to have a set of encyclopedias. I remember spending hours flipping through the pages.” She rested the book on her lap. The weight of the book gave her flashbacks of those summer mornings sitting on her grandmother’s couch. Flipping through the pages, while asking a million questions because she couldn’t yet read.
“Today, you can have your own set. Well not today.” Fred adjusted his basic black tie and started over. “Today, you can commit to purchase a set and I’ll turn your order into processing and then your first book is on the way.”
“Is there any way I can get them all at once?”
“I’m afraid not. They’re always doing updates, so they want to make sure you get the most recent copy possible of each letter. That’s what they tell me anyway.” Fred pulled a white handkerchief from his inside jacket pocket with his right hand and removed his hat with his left then sat it on his knee. He then dabbed at the sweat on his wrinkled forehead before sliding the handkerchief across his scalp to smooth out the few remaining white hairs and attempt to absorb the remaining perspiration.
“But why would I want to deal with twenty-six books when I have Google?”
“I’ve heard about Google. Never used it though. Like I said before, I’ve no need for computers. Plus I’m old.” Fred looked out the window and then back over at Maggie.
“There are plenty of fun things to do on the computer. My grandpa likes to play solitaire, and he recently discovered Youtube, which is a place to watch videos about everything.”
“Sounds like a waste of time to me, but I’m not of this world for much longer.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because I’m old, sweetheart. I’ve seen enough of this world. I’m just trying to make it through each day.”
“And you already made a sale today.” Maggie attempted to elevate his mood, but got no response. She watched him take a sip of water and flash a brief smile as he stared off in the distance.
“Is that your family?” Fred pointed at a framed photo on a nearby shelf.
“Yes, that’s my mom, dad and me at Disney World last year. It was my first time to go. I was probably more excited than I would have been as a kid.” She laughed.
Fred removed his hat from his knee and sat it on the table then stood. “May I?”
“Sure.” She watched as he walked over to the shelf and examined the three framed photos. A police cruiser driving past her house caught her attention. She watched as it passed by her window. No sirens on.
“I’m guessing this one is your best friend?”
“Yes, we met about six years ago. She’s a great person.” She turned back to see the elderly man admiring the middle photo on the eye-level shelf.
“She’s beautiful. What’s her name?” Fred leaned in closer to look at the the two ladies.
“It’s Beth.”
“Beth. That’s a nice name.” He then moved on to the third picture, which was a black and white photo of a golden retriever.
“That was my dog, Hermione.”
“Hermione? That’s an interesting one.”
“It’s a character in a book. Harry Potter. I was obsessed with them when I was a kid. Still am, actually.”
“Ah yes, I once had a cellmate who read those books. He was a big Mexican guy. Loved to read about magic when he wasn’t lifting weights. He was only in for a year or two.” Fred returned to the chair. He grabbed the right armrest for support as he slowly declined onto the chair. He took a deep breath and exhaled. “My body’s not used to all this walking. It’s already ready to call it a day.”
“Did you say cellmate?” Maggie straightened up and gripped the book tight without realizing she was doing it.
“Yes, it’s OK. You can relax.” He watched as she took a breath and her shoulders dropped. “I was in prison for a long time. Just recently got out.”
“And that’s why you just started selling encyclopedias?”
“Yes, it was one of the businesses on a job listings sheet they gave me. Some of the stuff I had no idea what it was, but I do know encyclopedias.” He looked down at the volume in Maggie’s hands. She followed his gaze and then started flipping through the pages.
“Is this the only volume you brought with you?” She glanced at the entries as she turned the pages.
“It’s a bit difficult to carry even a few of them, so I randomly selected one from my stack and brought it along. Is there a specific letter you’d like to see? I can always bring it by tomorrow.”
“No, just a funny coincidence,” said Maggie as she looked at the entry for Mexico. A few pages later there was an entry on James Monroe. She closed the black leather cover and turned it on its side to see the spine. The sunlight from the window made the gold “M” shimmer.
“You seem to like it.”
“I’ve always been obsessed with the letter ‘M.’ You know, Maggie.”
“Yes, I get it. I once knew someone who had a similar obsession.”
“If you don’t mind me asking, why were you in prison?”
“I killed my wife.”
“Excuse me?” Maggie shifted her body and leaned away from the man. She put weight into the ball of her left foot in preparation to spring off the couch. Maybe move further away from him. The book was pressed up against her chest.
“I killed the love of my life. It was an accident. We had been drinking at a party, and I tried to drive home. Made it about fifteen miles down a dark two-lane country road before falling asleep. Drove off the road and hit a tree. She died on impact. I woke up and walked away from the crash. Then I kept walking and eventually got home.” Fred stared out the window.
“That’s awful.”
“Police showed up the next morning. I knew the cop who arrested me. A friend from high school. They charged me with manslaughter, leaving the scene of an accident, driving while intoxicated. I also lied to police. That cost me more years. Forty-three in all. Went in at thirty-eight and now here I am at eighty-three.” Fred turned back to look at the young woman.
“I, I don’t know what to say.”
“There’s nothing to say. I did the crime. I did the time, but I’ll always be punishing myself for what I did.” Fred exhaled and looked down at his briefcase.
“I’m sorry I asked.”
“It’s okay. Really. I’ve learned being honest is the best path to take in life.” Fred smiled at Maggie. “So now may I ask you a question?”
“Sure. I mean, yes.”
“Do you live here alone?”
“Why do you want to know?” Maggie stiffened.
“It’s just that I saw the pictures and there are none of you and a man.” Fred glanced back over at the pictures. “Pretty girl like you should have suitors knocking down your door.”
Maggie didn’t know what to say, but her facial expression spoke for her. Her black eyebrows shifted into a furrow then an arch on the right side, and her lips tightened.
“Wait, are you and Beth a couple? That seems to be more popular these days?”
Maggie laughed. She didn’t expect that and the way he said it. “No we’re not a couple. We’re friends. It’s none of your business if I’m in a relationship or if I live alone.”
“You’re correct. I’m sorry. I’ve spoken out of turn. Maybe it’s best I be going.” Fred picked up the glass and drank the remaining water. “Would it be possible to get one more glass before I go?”
“Of course.” Maggie handed Fred back the encyclopedia, picked up his glass and walked into the kitchen. She opened the fridge, grabbed the pitcher and refilled the glass with the last of the water. As she closed the fridge door, Maggie glanced at the knife block on the counter then looked toward the kitchen entrance. She rolled her eyes, laughed at herself and then walked back into the living room. “Here you go.”
Fred took a drink, paused then took a second before sitting the glass on the side table. “I really appreciate the hospitality.”
“It’s no problem. I’m sorry if I seemed angry. I’ve been stressed lately.”
“Oh, apology accepted.” Fred picked up the glass and swung it forward as if he was clanking it against another glass. “Cheers.”
Maggie watched Fred take a big gulp and then sit the glass on the table. He picked up the hardback book from his lap and leaned over the left side of the chair to put the book back in the briefcase. He turned the third number back two spots and the brief case clicked opened.
*RING*RING*…*RING*RING*…
She looked toward the dining room where the antique black rotary phone on a small table near kitchen entry. It rarely rang. “Will you excuse me?”
“Of course.”
Maggie walked into dining room and picked up the phone.
“Hello?”
“Maggie, it’s Beth.”
“I can tell by your voice.”
“Well, I tried calling your cell and you didn’t answer.”
“I can’t believe you have the house number saved in your phone. I’ve lived here for two years and you’ve never called it once.”
“That’s not true. There was that one time you never heard it ringing. Plus you weren’t answering your cell.”
“Okay, okay.” Maggie looked toward the living room and watched Fred rummaging through his briefcase.
“Listen Maggie, the reason I called is because the news says there is a killer loose near your neighborhood.”
“What?” Maggie’s grip tightened on the black plastic mold as she stared at the elderly man who continued looking through the contents of his briefcase.
“It’s all over the news. Lock your door. Turn on your TV. If you see anything call 911.”
“Beth, there is a man in my house.”
“What the fuck, Maggie?!”
“He told me he killed his wife.”
“Maggie! Hang up and call the police!”
“Beth, stop! I’m going to cry!” She could feel her chest tighten.
“Shut the fuck up Maggie. Hang up and dial 911!”
Maggie looked back toward the living room and saw Fred looking her direction. He smiled at her. She noticed something reflecting light in his brief case. She twisted her body around the corner into the kitchen. “I think he has a weapon in his briefcase,” she whispered into the phone.
“Maggie, listen to me, hang up and dial 911.”
“I can’t. I’m in the kitchen. I go back into the dining room and he might be waiting on me.”
“Can you reach anything?”
“Maybe the knives.” Maggie started to shake.
“Listen to me. Hang on to the phone and see if you can grab one.”
“Wait! Should you hang up and call 911 for me?”
“Can you see him?”
“No!” Maggie pounded the floor with her foot. She was losing time. “What do I do?!”
“Hold the phone in your hand and peek around the corner. If you seem him coming at you hit him in the face with the phone and run.”
“You think that’s a good plan?”
“Or you can grab a knife.”
Maggie stretched out to grab a knife from the block. As her fingers wrapped around a black handle she stepped forward with her left foot and landed on a ceramic shard that penetrated the ball of her foot. “Mother fucker!”
“Are you okay?” Fred yelled from the living room.
“Yes, Fred. I’m fine. Just stepped on something on my floor. Hang tight. I’ll be right there.” Maggie balanced on her right foot and pulled the piece of coffee mug from her foot. Blood dripped and splashed on the floor.
“What happened?” Beth’s voice blasted from the phone’s receiver.
Maggie lifted it back to ear. “I stepped on a piece of a broken mug. Dammit.”
“How did that happen?”
“Does it matter?” Maggie was furious with herself and the situation. The wound on her foot meant she couldn’t flee if needed. “I’m sorry. I dropped the slug mug earlier and haven’t cleaned it up.”
“The slug mug?”
“Yes!” Maggie caught herself before her voice got too loud and continued talking in a whisper. “Who the fuck cares?!”
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Fred asked. She could tell he was still in the living room from the distance in his voice.
“Yes. Be right there.” Maggie looked down at the large knife in her hand. She hobbled to the kitchen entrance and put her left hand behind her back. “Beth, I’m going to sit the phone down on the table and go to the bathroom to put a bandage on my foot. Stay on the line.”
“Wait! I can hang up and call 911.”
It was too late. Maggie had placed the receiver on the dining room table.
As she made her way to the bathroom, Maggie’s foot dripped blood. Fred noticed the dark red trail and launched from his seat.
“Let me help you.” He pushed himself from the chair and moved in to help faster than she anticipated. He started to put his arm around her and she pulled away.
“Get off me!” Maggie screamed as she swung her left arm and stabbed Fred in the right side of his throat just above his collarbone. She jerked the knife out and blood spurted onto her face. Without thinking Maggie switched the knife to her right hand and then repeatedly stabbed him in the chest as Fred attempted to cover the throat wound with his left hand. In a fury of punctures she hit his forearm once causing him to release his grip and end his defense. She pulled back the knife a final time and launched it into the soft spot just below his Adam’s apple and above his sternum.. When she forcefully removed it falling backward into the wall, she watched the old man drop onto the floor.
Fred gurgled some blood then stopped. Blood flowed from his neck and chest. His white shirt turned red and then his suit began to absorb the flow. He tried to talk, but there were no words. His eyes rolled back. One last air bubble popped on his throat.
Maggie dropped the knife and fell to the floor. In shock. Out of breath.
“Maggie!” Beth’s voice carried from the phone’s receiver. “Maggie! What the fuck just happened? Say something!”
Maggie pushed herself up and wiped blood from her face. She hobbled over to the phone. “I killed him. I fucking killed him.”
“It’s going to be okay. Just stay on the line.”
Maggie pushed the disconnect button and dropped the phone. It bounced off a chair and dangled from its base.
She hobbled into her bathroom and stared at her reflection. There was blood everywhere. She tried washing the blood off her face and neck, but some remained near her hairline. She took off the dress, letting it fall on the floor, then bent over and grabbed the faded Orioles shirt and pulled it down over her head.
*KNOCK*KNOCK*KNOCK*
Maggie limped into her living room, stepping over the dead body and the growing puddle of blood then glanced out the window to see a police car parked in front of her house. She felt a rush of relief. She limped toward the front door, bracing herself on the furniture as she neared the door. She took a deep breath and opened the door.
“I’m so happy to see you!” Maggie’s voice got louder as she spoke. “The killer showed up at my house and tried to attack me and I killed him.”
“Excuse me ma’am?” The officer pulled the sunglasses off his face with his left hand and slid them into the opening of his black uniform shirt. At the same time he reached for his gun with his right hand. He glanced back at a second cop walking up the steps and nodded his head toward the woman in the door.
“The killer! He came after me, and I killed him.” Maggie bounced up and down on her good foot and then pointed behind her.
“Ma’am, please put your hands where I can see them.” The officer withdrew his gun. His grip tightening. His index finger resting near the trigger.
“What is happening?” Maggie lifted her hands above her head.
“Get down on your knees.”
Maggie complied. She started crying.
The lead officer pulled her arms behind her back and handcuffed her as the other cop rushed past them to check on the bloody body on the floor. “We caught the killer a few blocks away. We were just going door to door to notify everyone.”
“Then who is he?” Maggie sobbed. Snot bubbling out of her nose.
The cop turned and looked at the old man dead on the ground.
He then reached for his radio on his left shoulder and clicked the button.
“Dispatch this is 1486. Have a 187.”