The Darkness - Jason Pinter [40]
them an inch they'd take eight miles.
And I was prepared to give this one a few feet.
"We're investigating a... I can't really talk about it yet.
But hopefully Mr. Kaiser can answer all our questions
thoroughly. And I promise, you won't be mentioned."
"Why would I be mentioned?" he said, that voice
thawing with concern.
"You won't be," I said. "If you knew anything about
Mr. Kaiser, anything suspicious, even something you
thought one day and just dismissed, it would help his
cause and ours. I'm looking for the truth, Mr...."
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"Anderson," the man said. "Donald Anderson."
"Well, Donald..."
"You can call me Don."
"Okay, Don. Thanks for being so agreeable."
"Am I?"
"Are you what?"
"Being agreeable." Don blinked as he spoke.
"Yeah, you are. So, are you friendly with Mr. Kaiser?"
"I mean, in so much as he doesn't say much, I've never
gotten any complaints from him."
"No complaints. Any compliments?"
"He's not what you'd call the most talkative guy," Don
said. "He tips over the holidays, kinda gives a little nod
when he's on his way out or back in. Other than that he
don't say much."
"You ever try talking to him?"
"You ever work as a doorman?" Don asked.
"No, I haven't."
"Every tenant's got a different personality. You got to
learn how each person acts and reacts towards you, and
tailor your personality towards that. I swear, my first few
months on the job I felt like I was going crazy, developing one of those, whaddaya call 'ems, split personalities.
Mrs. Delahunt, she walks her dog like clockwork at
seven-thirty in the morning. She always says, 'Say hi,
Toodles!' like she's expecting the dog to talk to me. At
first I couldn't figure out why she treated me like such a,
pardon my French, such a bitch. Then Charles, the evening doorman, told me I had to say hello back to Toodles.
So every day at seven-thirty, I say hi to this little rat dog
Toodles. And every year at Christmastime, Mrs. Delahunt
gives me a tip twice as big as most tenants. All because
I say hello to her freaking dog."
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Jason Pinter
"So how does Mr. Kaiser fit in?"
"My first few months, I tried to be real polite. 'Hello,
Mr. Kaiser. Have a good day, Mr. Kaiser. Welcome home,
Mr. Kaiser.' I never get more than a grunt. One day I must
be thinking about something else--maybe Mrs. Delahunt's
fine daughter--and I forget to say hello to him. I just open
the door, not even thinking, and then I hear him say,
'Thanks, Don.'I swear it was like Christmas came early that
day."
"So what did you do?"
"I realized Kaiser didn't like being spoken to. Gestures
were fine, but man, did he think highly of himself. The
most effective method is a little nod as he comes through
the door. Closer to the holidays, tip time, I might give him
a tip of the cap. But that's all. I don't engage in conversation, I don't say a word to the man."
"Sounds like you've got this down to a science."
"Still refining my game," Donald said. "Always room
for improvement."
"So I need to ask one more question about Mr. Kaiser,
Don, and I'll be out of your hair."
"Shoot. Just promise you won't tell him I spoke to you,
and please don't print my name."
"This really has nothing to do with you, it's just to help
me understand Mr. Kaiser. You've watched all these
tenants for years, right?"
"That's right."
"Is there anything about Mr. Kaiser, either his mannerisms or something else, that strikes you as kind of
strange? Something that stands out as different?"
Don laughed. "Everyone's different in their own way.
There's one guy, a psychiatrist on eleven. Different prostitute every Friday night."
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"Um, I don't think I needed to know that," I said. Don
shrugged. "Is there anything about Brett Kaiser, though,
that's different?"
Don scratched his chin. "Actually, this did seem a little
strange, but I guess I got used to it. Every Tuesday night
at midnight, Mrs. Kaiser leaves the apartment. And about
five seconds after she leaves, this guy comes over."
"Wait. She just leaves?"
Donald said, "That's