I was sitting at the kitchen table this morning drinking my coffee and staring out the window when something started bothering me, and once it got into my head I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Pandora left her phone on the kitchen counter last night, and when I walked through this morning it was still sitting there exactly where she left it. Now maybe that doesn’t sound like a big deal to some people, but Pandora forgetting her phone is like someone forgetting to put on shoes before leaving the house. People don’t do that. Nobody does that anymore. People walk back into burning buildings for their phones. If Pandora left without it, then something happened.
She mentioned yesterday that she had some meeting at work around nine this morning, and at first I didn’t think anything about it because people have meetings all the time. Meetings are basically what work is now. Half of modern employment seems to involve sitting in rooms discussing other meetings that need to happen later. But now I’m standing there looking at that phone and suddenly everything felt strange because if she was rushing to work, why forget the one thing people panic about losing after approximately three seconds?
Then I noticed John Mercer’s laptop sitting open on the couch.
That was when I started paying attention.
John stays up late all the time, so being awake at weird hours isn’t unusual. I’m pretty sure the man has seen every infomercial ever created. But leaving his laptop open all night? That didn’t fit. Especially after Mrs. Jenkins gave one of her neighborhood energy lectures last week where she somehow managed to blame rising electricity costs on chargers, televisions, microwaves, porch lights, and probably human happiness itself. John sat through the entire thing. There’s no way he’d casually leave a laptop running overnight after that speech.
So now I’m standing in the kitchen trying to connect dots that may or may not even exist. Pandora leaves her phone. John leaves his laptop open. Two unusual things happen on the same night. I’m no statistician, but I’m pretty sure coincidences have limits. There has to be a point where multiple strange things stop being random and start becoming a pattern. I don’t know where that line is exactly, but I felt pretty confident I had crossed it.
At first I thought maybe John drove Pandora somewhere. They coordinate rides sometimes, and maybe she left in a hurry and forgot her phone. That made sense for almost fifteen seconds before I realized there was a problem with the theory because if John drove her somewhere, why leave the laptop open? Unless he wanted it to look like he never left. And once that thought entered my head, things started getting complicated fast.
Meanwhile Mr. Whiskers was being absolutely useless. Usually he notices everything. Someone opens a cabinet in another room and somehow he appears instantly like a tiny furry security system demanding answers and snacks. But last night? Nothing. Not a sound. No reaction. No alarm. No middle-of-the-night sprint through the hallway for no reason. Either he slept through everything, which already felt suspicious, or—and I didn’t particularly enjoy where my brain immediately went with this—he knew more than he was letting on.
Then I remembered Karen texted Pandora this morning asking if she was running late for work.
Now that changed things.
Because if Karen was asking where Pandora was, then maybe Pandora hadn’t told her anything either. Unless Karen already knew exactly where Pandora was and sent the text because she wanted it to look normal later. People do that in movies all the time. Somebody disappears and suddenly everyone starts sending completely innocent messages for the record. “Hey, where are you?” “Just checking in.” Meanwhile everybody already knows what’s happening. I’ve seen enough television to recognize suspicious behavior.
Then Dave suddenly worked his way into this whole thing because I remembered he mentioned yesterday that he needed to talk to Pandora about something. I didn’t think much about it at the time because people say that sort of thing constantly, but now I was reconsidering everything. Maybe Dave picked her up. Maybe John had nothing to do with any of this. Maybe the laptop was unrelated.
Or maybe that’s exactly what they wanted me to think.
And somehow, as always happens in these situations, my thoughts eventually circled back to Mrs. Jenkins.
Because I’ve been suspicious of Mrs. Jenkins for a while now. Not seriously suspicious. Not criminal-mastermind suspicious. Just… observant suspicious. She somehow knows everything happening around this apartment complex before anybody else does. Packages arrive and she knows. Visitors stop by and she knows. Somebody parks six inches over a line and suddenly she materializes from nowhere like she was hiding behind a shrub waiting for her moment.
I’ve seen her talking with Karen before. I’ve seen her sitting outside with Mr. Jenkins watching people come and go. Watching. Observing. Gathering information.
Suddenly I wasn’t even sure this was about Pandora anymore.
Because maybe Pandora really did leave for work. Maybe John forgot his laptop. Maybe Karen was just checking on a friend. But what if I was looking at all of this from the wrong angle? What if Pandora wasn’t the mystery at all?
What if Mrs. Jenkins was the mystery?
Because now that I think about it, she still hasn’t given me that package from the post office she accidentally picked up two weeks ago, and honestly I’m starting to have questions.
Mr. Whiskers is sitting beside me right now staring at a ball of yarn with the kind of expression that says he understands everything and simply chooses not to get involved. He looked over at me a few minutes ago and I swear the expression on his face said, you’re getting close.
I don’t know exactly what’s happening yet.
But it’s all connected.
I’m sure of it.