Twenty-Five Odd Items

“It’s mine, and you can’t have it!” The screamed statement echoed down the hallway alerting everyone bustling through the house. “I’ve spent forty-seven years building that collection. You have no right to take it from me!”

“Mr. Mitchell, please lower your voice.” The woman speaks with authority, leaving no room for discussion. Although the man remains quiet, his internal rage is evident to the onlookers working around him. Alan Mitchell watches as his cherished possessions are stolen right in front of him, powerless to stop it as he walks behind a stranger out of his own house.

Alan sits at a table now, in a cold room waiting to speak to someone about his belongings that make up such a monumental part of his life. As Alan watches the door for someone to come in to discuss the items they’ve taken, his mind conjures vivid images, memories, of how each item came to be in his possession. So many memories flash through his mind; one for each of the twenty-five items stolen from his home. Just as Alan was preparing to take a trip down memory lane, the woman from his house walks through the door and immediately takes the seat across from him.

“Mr. Mitchell, I want you to know that we’re treating these items with the utmost care.” The woman’s voice comes out even and calm as if she’s dealing with a frightened child, but her eyes express her growing interest in the man before her. Alan stares intently into the dark-haired woman’s eyes attempting to maintain what little self-control he feels in this situation.

“I appreciate your attempt at respect, but I suspect my belongings won’t be returned to me.” The sixty-five-year-old’s ‘old south’ accent reminds Kelly Walters of a character from a period-drama she’d seen but couldn’t remember the name of.

“I know how important these items must be to you though. I’m curious as to how these items came to be in your possession. I’d love to hear the story straight from the source if you’re willing to tell it.” Kelly tries to convey her curiosity as best she can, hoping to elicit the full story from Alan. Kelly waits patiently for Alan to decide whether he wants to tell his story, but she doesn’t have to wait more than a minute. Alan has waited forty-seven years to be able to tell the story that only he knows. He’s sure that others have guessed or made assumptions, but only he can really know the full truth.

“I’m sure you don’t have time to hear every story that’s attached to each of the items in my collection Miss Walters.” Alan feigns his opposition hoping to only gain further interest from the petite woman. “I don’t want to bore you with every little detail of how my collection has grown over the years.” The eye-contact between the two never wavers.

“I’m very interested in these items actually, and I’d love to hear every detail that you could provide. Maybe you could start by telling me about the glass perfume bottle?” Kelly is giving her best doe-eyes hoping that he will finally answer all the questions she’s had since she first learned about Alan Mitchell and these items. There’s a pause from Alan meant to build Kelly’s anticipation as if he isn’t going to share his secrets, but Alan has every intention of finally recounting his favorite memories of his last forty-seven years.

“Well, Miss Walters, if you’re so interested. I got that perfume bottle in August 1976. I didn’t know it at the time, but it would come to be the first item in my collection.” Alan casually drags his eyes around the room as he starts speaking again. “I was only eighteen years old. I was still living with my mother, rest her soul, and we were dirt poor, you see. Mama’s birthday was coming up that month, and of course I had no extra money for a gift after helping her with all the bills and such. I was determined though that I would give her something special after the hard year we’d had. I prayed every night that I’d find the perfect gift for her, and a few days later I met Sandra.” Alan’s face lit up, almost fondly, at the mention of the woman’s name.

“The moment I laid eyes on her walking down the sidewalk, I knew God had put her in my path for a reason. Sandra, as I’d come to find out, was just a few years older than me. She was a kind and friendly girl, the kind who never met a stranger. Well, a week after I’d first met Sandra, she hired me to do some work for her around her house. The week I was with her I thought she might’ve been sweet on me, on account of the way she acted; she kept offering me drinks or snacks and she would watch me work. On my last day with her I decided it was time to finally make my move.” Alan’s eyes aren’t on Kelly anymore. He doesn’t seem to see the room around them anymore, almost like he’s watching a movie that only he can see.

“On my last day she was standing in her bedroom making small talk while I finished fixing her bathroom sink. Since I finally finished up the last job she had for me, she was supposed to pay me $150 for the work I’d done. I suspect she had reached into her nightstand to pull out the cash to pay me, but all I can remember after she turned her back on me was the way my chain felt as I pulled it until it pressed into the flesh of her neck. I remember everything; I remember the way she struggled, I remember the noises she made, but what I remember most is the way her skin smelled as I leaned in to kiss her cheek.” Alan’s reminiscent smile as he relays every sick detail makes it seem as though he’s recounting a lovers’ tryst instead of a gruesome murder. Kelly feels a shiver run through her, almost as if the room has physically cooled with the presence of the graying man.

“My original intention had been to take what I could from Sandra, either cash or items to pawn for a gift, then I saw that perfume bottle on her dresser. I knew that scent would make for a perfect gift. Of course, the perfume went to my mother for her birthday, but when she passed a year later, I got it back. That was the first item in my collection, and I have to say it’s still my favorite to this day.”

Kelly never takes her eyes off the man in front of her. She realizes that Alan is done with this part of his confession, but she needs him to continue. “You see, Alan, I’m also very interested in how you’ve managed to get away with twenty-five murders over the span of forty-seven years. I know our technology back in ’76 wasn’t what we have today, but you’d think someone would’ve found something. So, either you’re smart or lucky, which is it, Alan?” Kelly can’t keep the malice from slipping into her voice even as she tries to keep her tone neutral. Listening to this man describe himself taking a woman’s life in a way that sounds like he’s reading something from the Sunday paper causes her composure to slip just the slightest bit.

“Well, agent Walters, I’d love to tell you every little detail about all my girls and explain to you exactly how I’ve outsmarted Johnny-Law for over half my life, but you might need to set aside a little extra time for that. You see, Kelly, you stole twenty-five items from me, but I imagine that within the next few days you’ll discover the storage unit I’ve rented in my mother’s name. When you finally find it, I think you’ll be back here to ask me about the other sixty-four items in my collection.” Before she can think to reign in her emotions, horror flashes on agent Walters’ face as realization dawns, and Alan’s low, chilling laugh follows her out of the room.