4232
By
J.L. Young

I remember the smell of her perfume, light and smokey sandalwood with a warm honey note. It caught me before she stepped into view. “How can I help you?” I asked in a professional tone.

She was polite, “I forgot my key and locked myself out of my apartment. I was wondering if you can let me back in to get it.”

“It happens to us all. May I see your I. D.?”

She dug into her purse, removed a wallet, snapped it open, and procured the card, “Madison Davies, apartment 4232.”

A glance at her card proved she was honest with her name and address. I consulted the computer and spoke into a radio, “Voigt, you doing anything?”

“Making rounds, whatcha need?”

“I have a resident in need of assistance, can you watch the desk?”

“On my way,” he replied.

While the resident waited, I opened a safe behind the counter. Inside, I procured the master key.

A muscular man in a tight-fitting Officer’s uniform exited the elevator beside the desk. “I’m here,” he smiled.

“I’ll return shortly,” I replied as I readjusted my belt. Madison and I took to the elevator. A few moments later, we exited the car and walked to her door. I unlocked it. She thanked me.

A few days later, after a skydiving class, I returned home and turned on the news. To the left of the anchor was a picture, “Madison Davies, an internet celebrity was found dead in her apartment this morning. Police have released a statement.” A police chief appeared, “There was no apparent sign of forced entry. The closed-circuit television footage was inconclusive. If you have any information on the murder of Mrs. Davies, please contact the metro police department.” The telephone number appeared on the screen. The anchor reappeared, “A sad day for the metro area.”

I opened a drawer and removed the false bottom. Inside, a velvet bag tied with a ribbon. I untied it and removed a lock of hair. I brought it to my nose. The scent of sandalwood and honey brought a smile to my face.

My eyes opened as the lights in the room slowly brightened. A computerized voice said, “Simulation has ended.”

A man in a lab coat entered, “You’re done for today, Darcy. How do you feel?”

I blinked, gathering my thoughts, “Like a weight is being lifted from me. Thank you, Doctor Andreas.”