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13
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Mort had returned back to his hotel room. He felt mixed emotions about the book now. On the one hand, if his visitor from the previous night came back looking for the book, they'd be out of luck. But then on the other hand, it was supposed to be in his possession and he didn't feel right about leaving it somewhere else with a man whom he had little trust invested in.
Mort sighed to himself and walked though the suite eating some loose Doritos. He stopped at the mini-fridge in the corner and pulled out a tiny bottle of alcohol.
He walked to the table and placed the tiny bottle of alcohol down on the surface as he pulled off it's cap. And then he saw it..
There, sitting on the table was the photocopy of the engraving with Shooter's note on the back. Mort had thrown it out, though. How was this possible?
Mort picked up the paper and looked at it. There was nothing special about it. Or was there? No.
Suddenly, Mrs. Garvey the came into the room.
"Oh, I found this in trash, Mr. Corso. I thought you might want it so I put it on the table," Mrs. Garvey explained as she rummaged through a cupboard.
That explained one thing, but it still didn't explain the meaning of that stupid message that was written on the back. "Yeah. I see that, Mrs. Garvey," Mort said, doing a gesture that looked like he was shooting her. He really did hate Mrs. Garvey.
Mort sat at the table and looked at the message on the paper, trying to figure it out
Like our original keepers, after time the holy enriched kindness enters your soul? Mort asked himself in his head. He read it over and over again. But there was nothing logical about this piece of writing.
Mort read it again, slower. Suddenly, he had it! He jumped up, knocking the tiny bottle of alcohol over.
"Oh Shit! Aw, Sh--" He cried.
Mrs. Garvey came running into the room. "Oh, thank god. From the sound of you I didn't know what to think. Here," Mrs. Garvey said, throwing the photocopy into his hands. "Here, let me get this. That's my job."
"I'm terribly sorry, Mrs. Garvey. I really am," Mort apologized.
"I'll take care of this, Mr. Corso. Go on back to work," Mrs. Garvey insisted, cleaning up the mess with a cloth.
"This isn't mine," Mort suddenly blurted out.
Mrs. Garvey looked up from the mess, "Oh. I thought it was," she said and bent down to clean under the table.
Mort bent down next to her. "No, it's not mine. Look. It says John Shooter right there," Mort said and pointed to the name scrawled on the other side. "John Shooter. It's not me," Mort said, pointing from himself, to the paper, and back again.
Mrs. Garvey looked up from her cleaning once more. "Oh, okie dokie then," she said, and walked away.
Mort was left alone.