Murder by Absence

          The night was as damp as any other night. Humid? Yes. Hot? Yes. Wet? Hell yeah. He looked around the room and wondered why he chose this hotel out of all the others. He could deal with the rats, the bugs, and even the stained sheets. He could deal with the broken tv and no hot water. He could even accept the fact that his only window in the room faced a large neon "Kenny Roger's Roasters" sign whose light blazed into the room. The humidity was what bothered him. It was the fact he chose to take a hotel in the middle of the city. In fact, it was the worst area of the city to be in. But it was perfect for the job he needed to do.

          He found a beat up radio on the night stand and turned it on. It worked. Realizing he had another 20 minutes, he decided that some tunes was what would be needed. As he flipped though the dials all he heard was the new fangled stuff the kids today listened to. What happened to the good ole days of Elvis Presley or the Beatles. Today's groups sounded like clichés and food groups. The Cranberries? Better than Ezra? Toad the Wet Sprocket? Those weren't rock groups, those were children's broken English. Finally at100.1, he found what he wanted. It was called "The Oldies Station." "Great," he thought. The good stuff he grew up listening to is now an "Oldie." Nevertheless he was pleased when "California Dreaming" came on as the next song. If only he was there. Instead, he was sitting on a roach-filled room baking in the hot Orlando night.

          A knock on the door. He looked at his watch. It was only 9:15pm. Well his visitor was still 15 minutes early. It was odd that anyone in this business was ever early. But then again, this was really his first time in this business. He had always overseen allaspects of illegal activity in his company, but it was still from a distance. But to actually do it himself, that was new. But he figured, hey, his visitor was his age. Everyone at his age liked to be a bit early. Right? Of course right. He didn't have any worries and figured that he may be actually done earlier than he hoped. That could mean he might make it home in time for Letterman.

          He walked to the door. His eyes focused on the hole towards the top. Half an hour earlier he had read the strip of paper below the hole, explaining his legal rights and responsibilities to the room. "Pish-Posh," he said. He wouldn't be in the room long enough to incur any problems. Funny though that their prices were for the hour and not the day.

          He looked out and saw a dark face. For the briefest instant he thought he recognized the face. Was it indeed someone he knew? Naw, it couldn't be that. He looked again. Yep, that had to be him. Yet, he knew who he expected at 9:30pm, and this wasn't the person. Being confused yet somewhat optimistic, he opened the door. The door creaked open as he pulled it to himself. Then as his eyes focused on the dark face, he saw flashes of light. His eyes blinked twice. He lost his hearing. Then he felt as if he no control over his body. As he hit the floor, the last things he saw was a grin on the face and scar under one eye. Then, it was all over.

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