In the Halls of the Apartment Queen

1A

Mrs. Deidre Derrant trudged her way through the first-floor apartment hallway, grumbling to herself. Her stooped form took up half the width of the hallway. The pansy patterned dress she wore swayed from side to side as she ambled back to her own room. She shouldn’t have allowed that last man to rent 3C. He looked like a terrorist. That’s all those Muslims are good for anyway, blowing themselves up. The couple in 2B owe their rent today. She’ll collect it tomorrow; they were always a day late. She shouldn’t allow it, but at least they were consistent.

She slammed the door of her empty apartment behind her and placed the mail on the stand. Mail and rent collection were the only reasons she left the apartment these days. Ever since her third husband had died, she hadn’t felt the desire to leave the building. She got the young man from 1D to get all her groceries.

Her apartment smelt of cigarettes, dust and cats, despite the fact that Deidre hated cats. Most pieces of furniture were well into their fifties, though her armchair was the only piece that showed it. That chair was directly opposite the small analogue television with a first generation digital box, and was usually showing a soap opera.

Deidre slumped into her chair with a grunt and reached over to check her letters. One was from her nephew. She threw it in the bin next to the chair with a snort. The rest were bills or junk-mail. Reading the electrical bill, some dust and roof plaster fell onto the letter. From above came a rhythmic thumping.

Deidre grabbed her broom which she kept by the armchair. The brush consisted of a couple of strands; she didn’t use it for sweeping anymore. She banged the roof with handle of the broom and shouted with a gravelly voice,

“Shut up you loud shits!”

2A

Angela sat on the edge of the bed and slipped her top on.

“So, you reckon you can go through with it? I mean killing someone is not a simple thing,” said Brad from his relaxed position in the bed.

“You would be surprised with what I can do,” replied Angela, doing up the laces on her shoes. Brad smiled cheekily, misinterpreting what she had just said. “What about you? She is your wife. No remorse or anything like that?”

“Not at all. Ever since she found out about me and that bitch, she’s wanted me dead. I’m just making a… pre-emptive strike.”

Angela searched for handbag which she had left around the bed somewhere.

“Though I admit, I never would have thought ‘that nice girl’ in 2A would be the one to pull the trigger,” said Brad, imitating his wife’s voice. Angela found her bag and started to rummage around inside of it.

“You know that’s quite ironic. Your wife said the exact same thing.”

Angela withdrew a pistol and shot him in the head.

3D

The guy who just moved in across the hall looks like a terrorist. Hopefully he is one, terrorism is good for business. Alex counted fifty-dollar notes as he headed towards his book case. He stored the money away in a hollowed-out bible. Probably not a good idea when Alex really thought about it. Bibles are too cliché to be secretive.

He then moved over to couch and folded it back up. He had – quite cleverly he thought – converted the fold-out couch into a secret storage area for a variety of armaments. People needed a weapon, they came to him. If he didn’t have what the client was after, he would get it imported.

He had made a killing this week. He had sold two pistols and a shotgun, all to people within this apartment complex. That dumb red neck from across the hall bought the shotgun, probably to shoot foxes or something. That nice girl from 2A bought a silenced Glock. In fact, she knew exactly what she wanted which unnerved Alex a bit. But a buy is a buy. The other girl, Hayley her name was, had no idea. She just wanted a gun. She looked like she was a university student. He hoped she wasn’t going to go and shoot up the place. Alex just sighed. A buy is a buy. He made sure that they weren’t going to use it within the building. That would just lead authorities back to him.

2D

Hayley sobbed as she ran her hands over the small pistol in her lightless apartment. She hadn’t even gone to her lectures today, she hadn’t felt like it. It surprised her to know that Alex sold guns. He seemed so mature and normal. But so had Brad. He always talked to her whenever they met in the hallway.

Last Friday night, he had come back to his apartment really drunk. She had just happened to be in the hallway. He had started talking to her, about all the troubles between him and his wife, Aimee, how he didn’t love her anymore, how he dreaded going back to his apartment every day after work.

She had felt sorry for him and invited him into her apartment for some coffee; to sober him up so he didn’t get into trouble with Aimee. He kept flirting with her. At first it was funny, but then he kept being so pushy. Eventually he just grabbed her.

Hayley cried when she remembered. That’s all she had been doing for the last week, remembering. She kept turning the gun over in her hand. At first, she had thought about killing him, but she would undoubtedly get caught and probably wouldn’t feel any better.

1D

Jason heard a gunshot sound come from somewhere nearby. Maybe it was Hayley watching an action flick. He quickly flicked through the channels to find out what she was watching. Nothing remotely gun related. Probably watching Netflix. He would ask her tomorrow what she was watching. It probably wasn’t a shooting film; she didn’t like those types. She preferred romantic comedies or chick flicks. He had seen some of the books she carried – generally about a young woman finding herself in Tuscany.

Hayley went to the store near the fruit market. Sometimes he ran into her at the fruit market. That’s where he got Mrs. Derrant her groceries from. Hayley said it was very nice of him to that for old Mrs. Derrant.

There were no noises from Hayley’s apartment now. Maybe she had gone to bed. He should check on her later, to see how she was doing. Sometimes he did that. He knew the code for her apartment door so getting in wasn’t a problem. Hayley didn’t know he knew the code, but she wouldn’t care. It was nice to see her smile in her sleep at times.

2B

Aimee was crying as she washed the dishes.

“Mum, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing Evan, go back to your toys.”

“But you’re crying.”

“No, I just splashed water on my face.” Evan paused and picked his nose, thinking about what his mum had said. She was lying.

“Where’s dad?” asked Evan. Aimee stopped washing the dishes and let the plates sink to the bottom of the sink with a water-dulled thunk.

“I don’t know, probably at work.”

“But you always know where dad is.” Evan’s mum didn’t respond but resumed washing the dishes. He’d been a big boy today. He usually cried when dad left the apartment for work but today he had done his best not to cry.

2C

“Ah fuck,” cried Louis as he dived for the paper towels. He had spilt coffee all over the building plans. Just another setback in his investigation. He had been really excited to be chosen to go undercover. They had located the arm’s dealer to this building. Half the crimes in the city centre with unregistered weapons could be traced back to this dealer.

Louis had obtained the building plans for the apartment block and started making notes on the people living here. He knew for sure there were no secret hideaways in this building, asides from inside the walls. So far, no clues as to whom the dealer is. There had been no gun related incidents in the building’s history.

Suddenly there was the sound of a gunshot from someone’s TV in a nearby apartment. Television of movie gunshots sounded nothing like real life. A whole bunch of recruits this year were already complaining they weren’t seeing action. Well, if they wanted to see that kind of action, they should have joined the marines. They didn’t know that police work was never like the movies. The movies always miss out on the paperwork.

3C

Rodrigo was looking forward to his new job. He had been accepted as a surgeon to the local hospital, a big step up from the third-rate hospital back in Cuba. There are too many qualified doctors in Cuba, not enough jobs for them.

He’d been lucky to find this apartment block so close to the hospital. Already, the people here seemed very friendly. The landlady was a lovely old woman. The young man named Alex, from across the hall had already introduced himself to Rodrigo. He also met that nice girl from 2A who had offered to help him with this new country. Angela had spoken impeccable Spanish, better than himself. He had been a little embarrassed to have a whiter person speak better than him.

He couldn’t wait to meet the rest of the residence, especially if they were as nice as the ones he had already met.