The Other Tenant - Part Two
By Rod Jones Artist-Writer
Now that I can see you clearly up close, you’re very pretty, I don’t like your name however. I guess wherever you come from you can call yourself whatever you like. I’m just gonna call you lady, but I don’t think I’ll be calling you lady very long because like all attractive women that come here they tend to leave early.”
“There is one thing I really like about you, you have beautiful red hair. I used to have red hair, still have some but most of it is turning gray. People used to call me the old redhead like they used to call Arthur Godfrey. Although he had freckles, I don’t, thankfully.”
“One thing that has me really confused is I don’t understand what you’re wearing. It looks like what skin divers wear, like some sort of wet suit. But what I find really confusing, is when you move across the room, it seems to disappear and take on the appearance of the wall or my furniture, doesn’t make sense. I can see that you have a nice figure. You’re certainly not fat like the other person I know with your name.”
“While I’m on it, why did you come falling down through my wall? What was the purpose of that? What kind of crazy thing is that? Are you ever gonna tell me who you are and why you came into my home that way?”
“I guess you do deserve some sort of explanation.”
“Damn right I do! Maybe you can just tell me and get the hell out of here.”
“I could’ve knocked on your door, dressed the way you normally see people, but I don’t think you would’ve let me in, in fact, I know you wouldn’t have.”
“You can count on that. If you knocked on my door, I would not answer it. The only people that knock on my door that I don’t know are either people doing some sort of fundraiser or asking stupid questions about politics. I don’t ever have to worry about bill collectors cause I don’t owe anybody anything. So you thought you’d get my attention by disrupting my whole life by crashing through my wall, wearing some sort of strange outfit. Well, you’ve got my attention. Speak your peace and then get the hell out of here. Let me get back to my movie and my drink. Actually my movie is over with. Thanks to you.”
“OK, I will tell you, at least I will tell you some things. I know you have a lot of experience as a photographer. You were a photographer in the army during the Korean War, at least towards the end of it. After that you got married and had some kids. That did not go well, and now you live here. You’re a PR photographer, you have photographed famous people, you’ve even photographed three presidents. You’ve taken pictures at all kinds of events. You are very well liked in San Diego. You had a very good friend called Bill Smith, you called him Billy. Unfortunately he got killed stepping out of his car. He stopped off at a liquor store and was coming over to see you. He never showed up. You found out about it later.”
“I don’t know why or how you know that, and yes, that bothered me then and it still bothers me to this day. But that couldn’t possibly have anything to do with why you’re standing here in my home. Billy was an excellent PR photographer. Sometimes we would compete to get the same job, but if he got it and I didn’t, he’d still split the money with me and I would do the same for him. I dearly miss Billy.”
“I know how that impacted you and I’m sorry you had to go through that. What are the reasons I’m here? You have a roll of film. It’s a roll of Tri-X ASA 400, it’s in your dark room, it’s sitting by your timer. You’ve never developed that roll of film. It’s been there for exactly 2 years. Two years from the date that your friend was killed. I don’t think you forgot about it, but for some reason, you won’t process it.”
“How in the hell do you know about that roll of film and what does that have to do with you being here? And yes, I have photographed lots of famous people, and a lot of people that weren’t so famous. Some were absolutely wonderful to work with, others, well, let’s just say, A- holes! Now get back to the why so you can be gone and leave me alone.”
“Your friend Billy was deliberately killed. Only one person actually saw the car hit him and drove away. No one knows who that was or why that person deliberately ran over your friend.”
“Do you? Do you know who killed Billy?
“Yes, and you are about to find out.”
“You’re going to tell me?
“No, you’re going to process that roll of film. In that film, you will find the answer. When you make the black and white prints you will see who killed Bill Smith.”
“You’re crazy! I took the pictures that are on that roll of film. No one else had access to that roll, and nobody else placed that on my shelf. I guess that film has been sitting there for about two years. But I sure as hell did not take a picture of some rotten bastard running down my friend Billy.”
“You’re crazy! You come into my home crashing through my wall dressed like some weirdo on Halloween, and now you tell me this story. That story doesn’t make sense, and you definitely do not make sense again. Who the hell are you and why are you taunting me and making me think about my friend Billy? Now you’re suggesting that I have a roll of film that shows who murdered my friend Billy. You’re also suggesting I’ve kept it undeveloped for two years. Why would I do that? You’re crazy, this whole thing is crazy. Why don’t you just leave me alone?
“I wish I could Roy. I wish I wasn’t sent here, but I was.”
“Why were you sent here? What do you have to do with me? How did you know about my best friend Billy? How did you know he was hit by a car, and how in the hell did you know about that roll of film? Why should I even give a crap, and why don’t you just go back to your home in the stars and leave me alone? And I know you are no damn angel sent down here to harass me; even the divine one wouldn’t torture me this way. Maybe the head of hell would.”
“As I told you before, I’m not an angel, I’m not a representative from what you call heaven and I’m not a representative from what you call hell. To answer your question more directly as to who I am. Well I suppose you could say I’m part of the universe. You could also say if you want to attach religion to it, I could be referred to as divine consciousness. I know that doesn’t inform you, but you’re just going have to live with it.”
“Well I don’t wanna live with it! I don’t want to know what’s on that film. But there’s something I do want, and that is for you to disappear, however, you do that magic just make it happen and leave me the hell alone.”
“Sorry Roy no. You’re going to go into the dark room, you’re going to process that film, you’re going to dry the film and you’re gonna make those prints and just so you know, I will not leave you alone until you make that happen. I suggest you get into the dark room right now. I will be in there with you, after you look at those prints then I will vanish.”
“Promise? Promise me you will be gone, promise me I won’t remember anything about this. I don’t know if I should be afraid of what you’re trying to do to me by making me process that film and look at those prints. Let’s go get it over with.”
“You won’t be sorry, Roy. Once you look at those photographs and recognize what you’re about to see, I will be gone.”
“The film is dry. I can’t really make out what’s on the negatives. Let me stick them in the enlarger and I’ll print them one by one, but it only looks like there’s four images on that whole roll. That’s kind of unusual to only have four exposed frames.”
“Oh my God lady! That’s Billy getting hit by that car, I know that car. Wait a minute, that’s my car, that’s my old caddy. I didn’t hit Billy. I didn’t hit him with my car. I couldn’t have. Did I take these pictures? If I did, I couldn’t have been driving the car that killed him. What the hell is this about? That’s my car. Billy died because my car killed him. How did I end up taking these pictures?”
“You did not kill Billy with your car. You had just come out of a building where you photographed the president of a company. You had put a fresh roll of film in your camera. You saw lights reflecting off of chrome windows in the building across the street. You took the pictures of the building not realizing that your friend Billy was in the car parked at the curb. You also didn’t hear or even pay attention to the fact that a person got hit by your car. You were just focused on the glare from the building’s glass windows. You couldn’t really see into the shadows at the base of the building where Billy was getting out of his car and when your car ran him over.”
“My car, someone stole it and killed my best friend, and I actually took pictures of it. I remember photographing that building. I never really take pictures like that. That’s why I never bothered to process that film. When I walked back to Fir Street. I remember my car, at least I think I remember my car was still parked in front of my house. Who would take my car? What bastard would kill my best friend? Do you know? Tell me, do you know?”
“Yes, yes, I do know and if you blow up that image and focus in on the front windshield of the car, you will clearly see who was driving it. That is the person who killed your friend.”
“I do recognize that person. She owns a major public relations agency here in downtown. Why in the hell would she want to take my car and run over Billy? This doesn’t make sense at all.”
“You have the evidence. You could turn it over to the police, but no one is going to believe you so you need not bother. But I will tell you why this happened, then I will leave you alone.”
“Tell me why this happened and why can’t the police do anything about this? I have proof now.”
“Your friend Billy was hired to take pictures of someone in a hotel room. He photographed that person from an adjacent building with a telephoto lens. That person was very powerful not only in the US, but maintained influence throughout the world. Your friend Billy figured this out and decided he was going to reveal the presence of these two individuals together in that hotel. He told the person that hired him that unless he received a very high fee for taking those photographs, he would expose them to the local newspaper. That turned out to be his fatal mistake.”
“Billy would never try to blackmail anyone, if he knew these were bad people he would’ve exposed them. What am I supposed to do now? I have pictures of the person who killed Billy. You’re telling me that no one‘s going to believe me. You’re also telling me something I know Billy would never do. He would never try and blackmail anyone unless he was being forced into it.”
“He was, he was being compromised. Billy had a visitor. A visitor who came through his wall just like I did yours. Only that visitor was compromised. Something occurred that created a misalignment. That’s why I am here, not to create a justification for what happened to your best friend Billy. All I can tell you is, you will receive another visitor only this time they will knock on your door. It will be a man and he will be dressed in a suit. He will work with you and instruct you on how to move forward. This person will introduce himself as Rex Jamison. Trust him.”
“Now I’m really confused and it’s not just the whiskey doing it. Thanks to you. I’m feeling pretty damn sober. I’m also feeling pretty damn nervous. I’ve been hanging onto a roll of film for two years that literally showed my best friend getting run over by my own damn car. If I didn’t see the pictures myself, if I didn’t process and print it, I wouldn’t believe any of this BS, especially from some looney woman who pops through my wall and lays all this BS on me. You’ve got to admit it’s pretty hard to swallow this story. It just doesn’t make sense. And now you’re telling me that I’m gonna get a visitor by some strange guy in a suit who’s going to tell me how to move forward. What the hell is that gonna be about?”
“I’m going to leave now Roy. It will all work out the way the universe will dictate.”
“That’s just great you completely ruined my day, turned my world upside down. Tell me some guy is gonna show up at my doorstep in a suit and tell me what I’m supposed to do. You’re gonna disappear and I’m probably gonna polish off a whole bottle of whiskey trying to figure out what the hell just happened to me, and I felt pretty crappy when Billy died, and now I see that he was run over by my own car by someone, I actually know for some unknown reason. Because he was taking photographs of something he wasn’t supposed to be taking photographs of. This is, if you don’t mind me saying so much total bullshit!”
“Don’t worry, it will be ok Roy… Goodbye.”
“Wait! Don’t leave me Elizabeth!”
A good part of this story is true. Make a comment if you’d like to know what is fact and what is fiction.
The short stories and essays that appear on the Thought Row Vignettes newsletter are written entirely by me, Rod Jones, Artist‑Writer, with human hand and imagination, no AI assistance. Any imperfections in grammar or punctuation are authentically mine. In a web where automated systems now generate much of the traffic, this is a small space for human‑made fiction and reflection, one human sharing stories with another.