The Sunset Apartments #10
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Floor: 10
Apartment Number: 10
Complaint:
Name: Vartan Petrosian
Vartan stepped off the elevator at the top floor. He didn’t know if that’s where Rosewater lived. He assumed that the man who owned the building would be in the penthouse at the top of it and that is assuming he lived on site. Willing to make an ass of himself and lose his job, he walked up to the double doors of apartment 10.
He pulled out Hector’s keys.
Found the key marked ‘Master’ but then noticed a key with ‘10’ made out of blue label maker tape.
He unlocked the door.
A tension grew inside the fibers of his body. He knew what he was about to do was stupid. He could hear his father yelling at him to not endanger his job because principles don’t pay the bills. That he shouldn’t go and yell at the man who is harvesting the people in this building for his own gains because the paycheck is more important than the people. That no one living in the units below his feet would feed or clothe him once he was living on the street. That no one cares about you outside of your family.
He felt all of that in his bones as he closed the door behind himself. Keeping the handle depressed and releasing it slow to make sure his entrance didn’t make a sound.
It was quiet in the penthouse.
At 5pm, it was silent in the penthouse.
He felt the absence of traditional sounds in his chest as he walked through the foyer that was designed with a brutalist esthetic. The concrete geometric chandelier of hanging hexagons emitted a soothing warm glow from its embedded and dimmed LED lights. They hung over a boulder that stood like an island in a contained sea of sand.
Walking around the boulder, Vartan entered the living room, and entered an open floor plan that stretched from the panoramic rounded window looking at downtown LA to the kitchen at the other end. Spanning the distance was designer mid-century modern furniture standing on top of the wall-to-wall terrazzo floor.
To the left was a conversation pit filled with colorful throw pillows that had an accompanying orange freestanding fireplace.
To the right was a black enameled twelve seat dining table that led to the kitchen’s concrete poured island with built-in sink.
Towards the windows, isolated from the rest of the other pieces of furniture, the statues of tasteful nudes, sat a single leather wing back chair.
Vartan could see black pants and gray sneakers sitting in the chair. He readied himself as he walked closer to the wing back with a speech about decency, integrity, how the rich take and take and do not care about the poor, and how if he had any sort of soul that he should stop what he’s doing and treat the people here better or else!
All of those thoughts and arguments vanished when he saw the ax cleaved into the top of Rosewater’s skull.
His pulse skyrocketed as he looked over the desiccated corpse sitting in the chair. Its head resting against the side of the leather seat. Its dried blood splattered and stained the dried cow hide chair. Rosewater’s skin had pulled back to reveal a hidden smile beneath the ax head. Like the corpse knew it looked like the world’s worst unicorn costume. Its eye sockets stared out from a darkness Vartan couldn’t see.
But its temporal bone heard the same door click as the gangly man’s.
Shivers shot down his spine as he looked over to the entrance and found Hector staring at him. The super’s eyes were cold, calculating, as he looked at his assistant and said, “You think I didn’t hear you grab my keys?” He held up a single key. “I made a double for this unit in particular.”
Vartan took some shaky breaths before he asked, “Are you going to kill me?”
Hector closed his eyes and shook his head and replied, “Have you learned nothing today? Why would I kill you? Because you found Rosewater’s corpse? Cabrón, why do you think I left my keys on the cart?!” He walked closer to his assistant who took a few steps back as he approached. “I wanted you to find him. I wanted to see if you had the balls to come up here and tell this piece of shit who he was.”
Vartan took a breath of relief as he realized that his boss wasn’t going to kill him. “Did… did you kill him?”
“Yeah, man! He was a monster, a tyrant, and since no legal system could help us due to our tenant’s living situations, I took matters into my own hands.” He pointed at the ax handle. “I planted that justice in his skull ten years ago.”
He snapped his fingers. “This is why Rebecca’s paintings weren’t working, huh?”
“Si, people need to think he’s still alive. Were you going to kill him when you came up here?”
“I mean, I wanted to punch the man, yell at him, but killing him… you haven’t had anyone come looking for him?”
Hector grinned a little before he said, “That’s the thing with you liberals, you lack follow through. You think that everyone can be reasoned or shamed into changing their ways, but evil doesn’t care about niceties. It doesn’t care about society, its people, or the places we call home. It cares only for itself and what it can get from others.” He looked at the corpse he made. “When I killed him, I knew no one would come, I made sure to understand how little family connection he had before I did it.” He pointed to one of the side rooms. “You’ll find a newer version of Claudia’s machine back there.”
“I thought she said hers was the only one? Couldn’t be replicated.”
“He found a way. This body is photocopy number three. No family, no kids, because when you live forever you don’t need descendants to inherit what’s yours, right?” He shook his head. “He was going to exploit everyone in this building. Sell their secrets or them to the highest bidder. The tenants may have thought they were guests, but really, to him, they were cattle.”
Vartan looked at the corpse and then over to Hector. “Is this some sort of pact or something?”
“Something like that, to the rest of the building and the systems outside of it, Mr. Rosewater is still here.”
“Well, he is still here.”
“Alive, smart-ass.” Hector turned to the window. “I knew I was only going to get older, get more tired, and that I couldn’t do this forever. I knew I would need someone who wanted to do this work too.” He looked over Vartan. “And I knew you were the one to help out.”
“I could’ve been a piece of shit fronting as a normal person.”
“Your acts today plus the mirror in Arthur’s apartment told me you’re a person to trust. If my plan is going to work, I have to make sure of two things: 1. That you weren’t here just for a paycheck, but that you were actually interested in this place. 2. That you weren’t going to break under pressure.”
He scratched his messy curly hair, nodded, and said, “Thanks for the trust, but you said ‘your plan’, what plan?”
“We are now Mr. Rosewater. Investments need to be protected to keep this place running and phone calls need to be made on behalf of Mr. Rosewater. Eventually, he will have to die, on paper. Once that happens, I have his will and trust set up to make the building a co-op.”
Vartan raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know much about legal paperwork, but don’t you need him for signing off on a will?”
“Eh, almost everything including legal documents is done online. And his signature isn’t the hardest thing to mimic, but his look is.” He gestured to himself. “Sadly, even with fake ID, if I tried to get the trust notarized the clerk will probably question if I am actually Reginald Pythagoras Rosewater. But you…”
“Ah, I was trying to figure out why you hadn’t just done it yet. But I might be too young to pretend to be him.”
“Yeah, but we’ll address that when we come to it. Otherwise, what do you think?”
Vartan walked over to the large window and looked at the downtown high rises. “Why are you doing this for the people here? Like you said, they’re not your friends.”
Hector exhaled before he answered, “Because I saw something bad and decided to do something about it. Because people like Rosewater will never see justice in a system that they made. Because when someone needs help, they don’t have to be your friend to get it.” He glanced over at the ax handle and back to his assistant looking out the window. “So, are you in?”
He turned from the view and looked at the room, his boss, and the dead man in the chair. “Does this mean I get to move out of my grandma’s house?”
The super chuckled. “Yeah, you get a spot here.”
He pointed at the floor. “This unit?”
The chuckle vanished. “Hey now, I’ve been in the basement for three decades. This is mine when all is said and done.”
“That’s fair, had to shoot my shot, but sure, I’m in.” He walked over, held out his hand, and the two partners shook.
And if you want to support me financially, go ahead and pick-up one of my books from below!
I did not see Rosewater being already dead coming. Wasn't sure if this was the absolute end or an 'end of part one' type deal before seeing your note. This was a fun ride.