Next Door Neighbor

Note: This story alludes to possible physical violence, domestic violence, and/ or death/ murder, but does not actually describe scenes including this content in the prose.

“Glo. You spend so much time leaning on that windowsill, you look like a cat… Ha, ha, ha… Like an orange tabby, to match your hair… Ha, ha, ha.”

              “Oh, stop it, Ed. You know how much I hate cats with my allergies.”

              “Maybe we should get you one of those fancy cat tree contraptions. You know… The ones with the different levels and the hidey holes and such. The soft carpet… I used to like to touch those whenever I was at the pet store grabbing those God-awful-smelling salmon treats that Blanche loved.”

              “Ed. Anything but a cat please.”

              “A bird then. At her perch. My beautiful finch.”

              “That’s fine, Ed. Oh… Sh! Sh! Sh! Something’s happening at the Davenports’ House. They’re getting a delivery. Oh my word. What could that possibly be?”

              “Well… don’t leave me hanging over here? What is it? What does it look like?”

              “I was going to see if I could get you out of that blasted La-Z-Boy. It’s almost like you’re auditioning to be the recliner’s spokesman or something. Your podiatrist said…”

              “Po-dee-a… Po-die-a-… However the hell you say it… doesn’t know nothing. These two feet have walked all over the world… they deserve to rest… for the rest of my life as far as I’m concerned.”

              “But your circulation…”

              “Stop talking about my damn feet, Glo. You’re not getting me out of my chair. So tell me what the hell is going on at the Davenports.”

              “Oh, fine. It’s quite the package!”

              “I’ll show you a package!”

              “Ed. You are seventy-five-years-old. Are you ever going to grow out of that joke?”

              “Doesn’t look like it. I’m sorry. Please tell me more about the uh… ahem… box?... At the Davenports.”

              “Oh my goodness. You’re a child. It’s incredibly long.”

              “HAH!... HAH!”

              “I’m going to keep describing it… And if you can’t hear me over your laughter… I promise you. I’m NOT repeating myself.”

              “Shutting up.”

              “It’s incredibly long…. A plain cardboard box as far as I can see. It even took two big burly men to unload it off the truck.”

              “What do you think the dimensions are?”

              “I don’t know… Maybe 3 feet by 2 feet by… 7 feet.”

              “Seven feet! Geez, Glo that probably looks just like a… like a…”

              “A coffin? Yes, Ed. It looks exactly like a box a body would fit in.”

              “Glo. Maybe you should get away from that there window. It’s not the first time you’ve gotten yourself into a mess spying on the neighbors.”

              “Oh, stop it. Mr. Rodriguez has been parading around in his unmentionables with the window dressings open for years. It was quite a shift when he moved from boxers to briefs and I meant what I said to be a compliment. I can’t help it if he didn’t take it that way.”

              “Well, I think Mrs. Rodriguez’s installation of blackout curtains right after says a lot about how they really felt about your… uh… compliment.”

              “Surely, it’s not a coffin though. I mean. I know I love to watch everyone… And I even like to post on Next Door here and there…”

              “Daily doesn’t count as ‘here and there’, Glo. Good lord! If I could go back in time and stop Michael from ever mentioning that damned website to you I would.”

              “…but this just doesn’t look good, Ed. Not good at all. When was the last time we saw Mrs. Davenport?”

              “Last week sometime. You were admiring her yoga pants and how ‘flattering they were for her figure’ and you asked me if you could pull off some of these athletic styles ‘all the ladies are wearing these days.’ Do you remember? I told you ‘No you couldn’t.’”

              “Yes, Ed. Of course I remember. A wife doesn’t forget a person telling them that their legs’d probably look like the Michelin Man’s in yoga pants… Not my favorite description of my body you’ve ever given… So last week. Her car’s been parked in the driveway this whole time. I never saw her leave. And she’s a Real Estate Agent. She should be coming and going all the time.”

              “Glo! When did you learn she’s a real estate agent? They’ve only been living here for 3 weeks. You haven’t even spoken to the woman.”

              “Well, I saw her putting some of those Open House tent signs in her car, you lemon. She’s so strong! She was able to do two of ‘em at once. Can you imagine having that kind of upper body strength? Celeste Davenport’s her name. Doesn’t she sound like a designer sofa?”

              “Hahaha, she does… Well, maybe she went back to wherever they moved from to finish closing things up there… You know how big a hassle moving is.”

              “Oh, you mean, Brownsburg… She’d just be able to drive now, wouldn’t she?”

              “Glo, why the hell do you know they moved from Brownsburg?”

              “Well… I was out at the mailbox stand and just popped my head into theirs and saw one of those forwarding labels on one of their letters… and it said… you know… they were last in Brownsburg.”

              “That’s terrible. You’re going to get into trouble. Like real trouble. Like with the police.”

              “You know I’m childhood friends with Chief Swenson’s wife. He knows I’m harmless.”

              “That doesn’t mean…”

              “Oh, that young couple from a few blocks over… the ones with the newborn are walking by the Davenports. Oh… she sees the box too. ‘Ope and she’s looking at her husband… you know the one with that modern mohawk… I think she just asked him if that looked like a coffin!”

              “Congratulations. You’re a lip reader now too.”

              “Where does a person even order a coffin for delivery? Can you get that on Amazon now too? Do you think they flag those orders to… you know… make sure that the buyer didn’t… off someone.”

              “Glo. Why are you whispering?”

              “I’m not whisperingI… Oh what’s that thing that Michael installed for us? Alice? Alvin?”

              “Are you trying to think of ‘Alexa’?”

              “Yes! Alexa! That’s it. Alexa! Order. A. Coffin. On. Amazon.”

              “Glo! Amazon wouldn’t sell coffins. Or deliver them. Don’t be ridiculous!”

              “I have found twenty results for coffins on Amazon. Please designate the size of the coffin you would like to order.”

              “Oh my goodness. I’m going to faint. Alexa! What. Are. My. Options?”

              “Options listed include lengths in two feet, three feet, four feet, five feet, six feet, seven feet, and eight feet.”

              “Glo. Stop this now.”

              “Uh… Alexa! Seven feet.”

              “Please designate a material.”

              “Uh… Alexa. Mahogany?”

              “Adding one seven-foot mahogany coffin to your cart. Thank you for being an Amazon Prime Member Michael Roberts. This item is eligible for Two-Day Prime Delivery. Would you like to place your order?”

              “Glo. They just moved in. It’s probably a bench or one of those foot-resty things that go at the end of the bed. There’s gotta be a reasonable explanation for this.”

              “If you’d like to place your order, please say, ‘Place Order.’”

              “Glo. Don’t you dare say ‘Place Order!’”

              “Congratulations! Your order has been placed.”

              “No! Alexa! Cancel order.”

              “If you would like to make modifications to your order, please log in to your account from your computer or your device.”

              “You’re going to have a helluva lot of explaining to do when Michael sees that charge come through on the credit card.”

              “I’ve got explaining to do? Glo, you’re the one that needs to do the explaining.”

              “Why should I explain anything? I didn’t place the order… But never mind that now… The Davenports’ garage door is opening. Halfway up… three-quarters… I see feet… It’s Jack!”

              “You should not know that his name is Jack if you’ve never been introduced!”

              “Look at him… waiting until dusk before he hauls the coffin in… So suspicious! What a shady character! They never even said, ‘Thank you’ for the snickerdoodles I left on their front porch. I had a feeling from the moment…”

              “All right, Glo. That’s enough excitement for the afternoon. I want to turn the lamp on and you know you’ll be backlit when I do.”

              “Please. Just five more minutes. I want to see what Jack does next. All right he’s closing the garage door. And he’s turned the garage light off… And oh… Now I can’t tell if anything is happening.”

              “Great! Come on, Glo. Come away from your perch, Dear. Let’s watch World News. I like that David Muir.”

              “Good evening, I’m David Muir. We start tonight’s broadcast with Breaking News from Indiana. Celeste Davenport, a real estate agent from the Indianapolis, IN area has been reported missing by her parents. Celeste’s husband says that she went out for a run two evenings ago and never returned…”

              “Oh my goodness, Ed. That’s just not true. Two evenings ago, I was watching the street the whole night. And I made that post on Next Door about the owls. You know the one where I warned everyone to keep their dogs inside… Blanche used to go berserk over those things. Do you remember?... Wait, was that a knock on the door?”

              “Well, go check and see if someone’s there, Glo.”

              “Good evening. I’m Jack Davenport. Gloria? You’re quite the Next Door neighbor. Can I show you what I got in the mail today?”

              “Oh, that’s all right. I really don’t like to leave the house much.”

              “Or the window rather… I’m sorry. It came out like a question, but it really wasn’t.”