Alex Harris 00 - Poisoned

into the living room and called John’s number. No answer. He should be back from Farmington by now, I thought munching on a handful of potato chips. Maybe he stopped off at the station. The doorbell rang again jerking me out of my thoughts and I reached for the baskets before going to answer it.
    By eight o’clock, I felt certain John would not be making it over. Annoyance overtook me and I wondered if this was how it would always be having a relationship with a policeman. I had to admit John usually didn’t work very late, and once the murder was solved things should go back to normal. Then he would be moving in. This thought pushed away my annoyance at his not making it over.
    Outside, across the street, several children were still walking from house to house. I had one bag of candy left and hoped it would be enough. Forty-five minutes later, I had just handed my last piece of chocolate to a pirate with two eye patches. I strongly suspected that he had tiny little holes poked in them allowing him to see what was being tossed into his bag, let alone maunder around the neighborhood. Having no more candy left and not an apple in sight, I flicked off the porch light and locked the door.
    At nine-fifty-five, my doorbell rang. I had just changed into my pair of men’s flannel pajamas so I reached for my robe and went to answer it.
    “I’m sorry, but the candy’s all gone.”
    The person standing on my front porch seemed a little old to be out trick-or-treating, but if the truth be told, I had continued with the tradition well into my teens. He wasn’t very original, though, wearing only an old-man mask with strands of long, gray hair hanging from the back. It was quite frightening. Something about the way he stood looked vaguely familiar, and I felt certain I had seen the plaid shirt peeking out from under his leather jacket before. However, the gun in his right hand was something new entirely.
    “Get in there!”
    Fear washed over me, and not just from the mask. A gun had a way of doing that.
    “I said get inside and close the door,” the voice behind the mask whispered, all the while holding the gun on me.
    The whispered order frightened me more than if the man had yelled and all of a sudden I felt very cold inside my pajamas and robe.
    “Go and close those curtains.” He pointed to the front window with the gun.
    I pulled my robe tightly around me and walked to the large picture window. The children had long since gone and all the houses looked dark. I pulled the drapes, leaving just a bit open at the bottom. With any luck John might be on his way and might see me inside, I prayed. I felt my entire body tremble. Whatever he planned on doing to me I hoped he would take off the mask. I couldn’t look at it any more.
    “Okay, now come and sit on the couch. Where’s your purse?”
    “Over there.” I pointed toward the dining room. “On the table.” I could hear my voice trembling and hoped it might play on the man’s sympathies, if he indeed had any, which seemed highly unlikely given that he had a gun and all.
    He walked over toward the table backward, keeping an eye on me. With his left hand he picked up my brown leather bag and emptied the contents on the table. “Where is it!” he yelled as he walked back into the room.
    I pulled back thinking he might hit me. “Where’s what?” I choked on a sob as the man grabbed my arm and turned it hard. “Stop! You’re hurting me. There’s about forty dollars in the kitchen, behind the flour container. You can have that, just don’t hurt me.”
    “Don’t be cute. I want the papers.”
    “Pape...” Then I had it. I knew where I had seen him. I just never thought he would follow me home, having believed, erroneously as it turned out, that he wouldn’t think I was clever enough to figure it out. How long had he been out there? Had he been watching me all night? The thought brought a new chill to me, spreading rapidly all the way to the bone. I could almost see the uneven teeth under the rubber of the mask. I turned my face toward his hideous disguise and said with as much scorn as my trembling voice could muster, “Why don’t you take off your mask, Stuart?”
    “Aren’t you smart. Now I’ll have to kill you for sure.” Stuart pulled the mask off. His hair was matted to his head and sweat dripped down his face, his black eyes wild. “I’m not going to fool with you. I want those papers now!”
    “I don’t know what you’re talking