by A.L. Svartz
Chapter Two
The Shooting
Mr. Malmsteen awoke to the sounds of ambulances and police car sirens. "What the hell is going on?" Mr. Malmsteen groaned, shielding his eyes as the lights from the cop cars were flashing in his room.
He sat up in his bed, rubbing his eyes. Blinking a couple of times, he got out of his bed. Wearing nothing but a blank white shirt and his boxers, he walked over to the window. Lifting the shades, he saw two ambulances parked in front of his building and three cop cars parked behind them. Lowering the shades, he looked over at his electric clock. Noticing that he had to be in at work soon, he decided not to go back to sleep, and started to get ready.
Jumping in for a quick shower, he put on his work suit and pants. As he emerged from his bathroom, the sirens and flashing lights were still going on.
"Eh, who died?" Mr. Malmsteen joked as he sprayed some cologne on himself. Looking in the mirror, he took a handful of gel, sliding it through his hair. He fixed it up until it looked like it did yesterday. He nodded at himself in the mirror. As he was satisfied as to how he looked, he exited the bathroom.
Walking over to the balcony door, he picked up his suitcase that was still lying there from last night. He brushed off any dirt that might have stuck to it. With the key ring in his hand, he walked out the door, locking it. As he slipped the key ring into his pants pocket, he noticed that Ms. Hagel's apartment door was wide open.
Mr. Malmsteen walked over to the door, peering inside. A white sheet was covering what looked to be a body to Mr. Malmsteen. Two officers were around the body.
"Excuse me sir," a man behind Mr. Malmsteen said. Stepping out of the way, the man, followed by someone else who was helping him, carried in a stretcher. "Ok, let's get her on it." The two men carful got the body onto the stretcher. As they stood there for a few seconds, they were making sure the body wasn't going to slide off. They then proceeded to leave the room.
As they were wheeling the stretcher away, Mr. Malmsteen stopped one of the men. "What the hell is going on? You people woke me."
"Sorry about that sir," the man said. "It seems as though your neighbor, Ms. Hagel, passed away last night. Looks to be natural causes." The man continued to wheel the stretcher away.
"Hey, looks like the old hag finally kicked the bucket," Mr. Malmsteen said. He was relived now that his pesky neighbor was gone.
He then headed over to the elevator, walking inside. As he pressed the elevator button to go to the bottom floor, Mr. Malmsteen watched as they wheeled Ms. Hagel's body by. The elevator door shut, and it was just Mr. Malmsteen in there this time. As the elevator stopped, the doors opened up and he marched across the lobby, heading outside.
Mr. Malmsteen's driver was already waiting outside next to the car. "Good morning sir," the driver said, running up to Mr. Malmsteen and taking his suitcase from him. "Sleep well?"
"Do you think I slept well?!" Mr. Malmsteen said sarcastically. "Don't you hear all the noise?! He walked over to the car, letting himself in.
The trunk closed and the driver ran around the car and hopped in. As he started up the car, he turned back to face Mr. Malmsteen. "Just wondering, what happened in your building?"
"A prayer answered," he snapped. "Now let's hurry. I need to get to the office early this morning."
The driver turned back, facing forward, and drove off. "Mind if I turn on the radio sir?" The driver asked, placing his hand on the dial. He eagerly wanted some noise in the car, rather than the two being silent the whole drive there.
"As long as it's not any of the normal crap you usually put on," Mr. Malmsteen said. "I guess it's fine."
The driver turned the dial. A very loud and obnoxious man's voice came out of the speakers. The two listened in silence.
"In the state that America is in right now, I think we need to rely on the wealthy," the man on the radio said. "I don't understand this at all. The wealthy make more money but pay less taxes and the middle class make less money and pay more taxes. I can't get my head around this."
"Turn this shit off!" Mr. Malmsteen yelled from the back. The driver quickly turned off the radio. "What did I tell you?! I said none of the crap you usually put on!"
"I'm sorry sir," the driver apologized. He looked up at the mirror, seeing a very angry Mr. Malmsteen staring back at him. The remaining trip to the office was kept in total silence.
Pulling up into the garage, the car stopped at the normal spot Mr. Malmsteen is picked up at. "Should I get your bag sir?" the driver said, opening his door.
"No," Mr. Malmsteen said, getting out of the car and retrieving his suitcase. He walked over to the driver's door and slammed it shut. Tapping on the glass, the driver lowered his window. "Just be back here on time today. I've got plans after work. You hear me?" The driver nodded and Mr. Malmsteen went off.
"Good morning Mr. Malmsteen," the lady at the front counter greeted. He walked past her, not uttering a word as usual.
Following his normal route to his office, getting into the elevator, walking by all the cubicles, and finally passing by Carole's desk.
"Good morning sir," Carole said, lowering the mirror from her face as she was applying makeup. "Have a good night?"
"It got better this morning," Mr. Malmsteen said. "Hold any calls for me. I've got some important issues I need to take care of."
"Will do sir," Carole said. She then raised the mirror back up to her face, continuing to apply her makeup.
Mr. Malmsteen walked into his office, securely closing the door. Making his way over to his desk, he tossed his suit case by his chair. He then headed off to a small area of his office where he has setup a chair, couch, and a tv. Sprawling across the couch, Mr. Malmsteen passed out, catching up on the sleep that he missed.