House on Marble Street

The beginning of my story is the end of James’. It started this morning with lawnmowers, chainsaws, drills, and drones. Since all the states have moved to the Postal Drone Delivery Service, it made sense that parts of the town would be overrun by the buzzing noise. (With the advancements in technology, they should be a much quieter machine.) But they weren’t quiet today, and along with the other noises of suburbia, it was making it especially hard for me to catch some much-needed shuteye. After I moved to the graveyard shift at the hospital, I knew sleeping during the daytime would take some getting used to, but these unexpected, and unnecessary, noises have been making it near impossible to rest. And today the drone noises sounded particularly close.

I heard a light thump sound on the porch, and that's when I understood the increased volume of the buzzing. A drone had just dropped something at my house. Whatever it was could wait. I hadn't ordered anything urgent, and I was too tired to get up. I covered my head with a pillow and as I lay there, with my eyes closed tight willing myself to stop hearing the outside noises, my thoughts wandered to him.

James had been my favorite patient. He was the reason I began working nights. When dementia had taken hold of him in those last few months, his days and nights were mixed up. I wanted to be there during his waking hours, because, in the ever so fleeting times that he was lucid, he would tell the most amazing stories.

In his younger years, James was a pilot and had flown all over the world. He would tell me stories about the people he met and the women he loved. His life was like a movie. It was one of those epic tales like Forrest Gump and The Notebook rolled into one. Most recently, he told me about traveling to the Amalfi Coast, during the early 2000s. He had fallen in love with an Italian singer named Daniela Bianco, who had just won top prize on a popular reality talent show. Daniela had come from a wealthy family but had left all she’d ever known to pursue her dreams. James met her one evening after he'd flown into Italy around the same time she and her small entourage had arrived. Their love was immediate and intimate. While he had much experience with women, he had never connected with anyone like he did with Daniela. Their relationship though, had to be kept a secret. She was an up-and-coming music star, and it wouldn't have been good publicity if she was not seen as “available”. It was because of this, after only a few short months, James chose to leave. Daniela had begged him to stay, but he could not bear it. He couldn't handle being hidden and he knew he needed to allow her to go free.

For the next few years, James watched Daniela from afar. Throughout his life, he downloaded every song in which she ever sang. He carried them around on an outdated phone with only the music application installed, even to the hospital, where he would listen to the music when he was not able to communicate.

Daniela's rise to worldwide fame included being on the arm of many of the world's most famous stars. He admitted he was jealous, but he knew her to be happy and that was what mattered. Sadly, at the height of her fame, Daniela was murdered by a presumed stalker. Her newest, yet to be released album recordings had been stolen along with her family's heirloom necklace containing Italian turquoise and diamonds worth a quarter of a million dollars. James spoke of his anger at the news of her death. He was overcome with grief. He regretted not staying with her when he had the chance. His bitterness grew more and more as weeks, then months, then years after her death passed. No arrests were ever made in the homicide. While he had lived a life of leisure with booze and women before, her death catapulted him into the world of drinking and sex just to keep his mind and body occupied and drown out his sorrows. He finally ended up here, buying a modest house on the cul-de-sac on Marble Street, and living frugally in his last years. When he became my patient, he wasn't unhappy, but I always felt there was a cloud hanging over him. James passed away peacefully four months ago.

And maybe it sounds unhealthy that I would seek out his home and purchase it, but I knew he had no living relatives, and it was being sold with all his belongings in place. I felt so close to James in his final days that I needed to be near him in spirit. The house on Marble Street was quaint and so much like what I had always pictured myself living in. It was not as if I kept all his furniture and belongings. I made the house my own. I did end up keeping his recliner, which remained in its perfect spot by the window, as well as a few vintage rugs and art from his worldly travels. To assuage any guilt I felt, I donated the rest of the house's contents to charity.

My mind turned back to the present. Between my thoughts of James’ life stories and the noises outside, I would never fall asleep.

I got out of bed and took a sedative. As I passed the front door, I remembered the drone delivery. I opened the door and an unassuming brown box lay on the porch. I picked it up feeling it’s featherlight weight for its size, then shook it slightly to see if anything might have broken when the drone dropped it. Nothing seemed to shift. Examining the box more closely, I saw no postage marks, no stamps from the PDDS, and no return address. I stepped off the porch to look up at the sky. Whichever drone delivered it was long gone; I wouldn’t have known which one had made the delivery anyway. I carried the box inside to the kitchen counter and dug out scissors from my junk drawer. As I sliced the box open, the packing material began bulging. I moved it out of the way, and I was able to quickly locate and lift out a small rectangular box. I felt around inside the rest of the larger box and found nothing. It seemed that the packaging was excessive for such a small item and the oddity of the circumstance started to set in.

Shaking off my unease, I focused back on the small box and slit the tape that was holding it closed. When I removed the lid, I gasped. Inside lay James’ old phone. I recognized the obsolete model right away. I picked it up and, out of habit, I pressed the side button, and it lit up, almost fully charged. There was no passcode because James would never have remembered one. The only thing on the screen was the music app. I smiled when I noticed James had changed its title to “Daniela” with a little heart icon.

I was so tired that it didn't even occur to me to question how I received this piece of James. I hugged the phone to my chest and took it back to my room and climbed into bed, thinking a little music might help to put me to sleep. Scrolling through the song choices, I was astounded at the amount of songs Daniela released. She was only a featured singer on some, but there were at least four hours’ worth of her music compiled on this little device. I recognized some titles because I would ask James what song was playing if it was something I really liked. I scrolled to search for my favorite called “Hostile Isle” and just as I was about to hit play, I noticed the next song down. It was entitled “House on Marble Street”.

This confused me because I didn't remember James ever mentioning buying this house because of the street name. Nor did he say anything about Daniela's music influencing his choice of homes. Maybe it had slipped his mind, but with this being a song of hers, it certainly seemed like an important detail to leave out.

Curiously, I pressed play.

There were 10 seconds of silence. I checked to make sure I had actually hit play when I heard a rustling sound and then James' voice saying my name. It startled me so much that I sat up and dropped the phone. When I retrieved it from the floor, I stopped the playback and started it at the beginning.

"Hello Sophie. I hope this message finds you well. I want to thank you for your kindness and care. You have made me smile more genuinely in these months at the hospital than I have in years. You let me talk when I could, and you sat and listened to all I needed to say. I know you don’t realize now, but I planted the idea for you to buy my home. I wanted to leave it to you in my will, but I know, because of your employment, you would not be allowed to accept it. I have made sure that my attorneys and my bank know that the house and my possessions must go to you, no matter the amount you offer. You have become my family.

By now, I know that you are settled in the house on Marble Street. That is why my phone, my music, my heart, have been delivered to you. I’ve also given you something else…a buried treasure.”

James chuckled at his own joke. Many times, during his stories, he would refer to himself as a ‘pirate’ instead of a pilot. It was good to hear his laugh, but at the same time, I couldn’t comprehend what I was hearing. I hit pause on the recording. He sounded cognizant of his words but arranging for me to buy his house was questionable. And a ‘buried treasure’ sounded delusional. I pressed play once more.

“If I know you like I think I do, I’m sure you kept the recliner in my, now your, home and I know you wouldn’t move it from its perfect spot by the window. Beneath it, you will find a loose panel in the floor. Remove that and retrieve the hidden envelope and box. The letter will explain everything, and the contents of the box will, I hope, help you live the life you deserve. It’s not my secret to keep anymore and you can do with it what you wish. Thank you, Sophie, for always listening and for always loving my stories.”

The recording stopped and the next Daniela song on the list started playing. I slowly got up, a little disoriented due to the words I’d just heard. I walked through the den to the recliner by the window. I grinned slightly when I thought about James knowing me well enough to know I wouldn’t move it. I knew I wouldn’t be able to push the heavy chair out of the way, so I sat down and pulled the lever to raise the leg rest. Awkwardly, I climbed out of the chair onto the floor and looked underneath. Dust bunnies covered the floor causing me to sneeze as I blew them out of the way. I felt around in the darkness until a board gave way. There, in the hole that it left, I found the box and letter. I sat on the floor cross-legged and inspected the items. The envelope was yellowed, and the box was off-white and flat. There were no markings on either. I unfolded the letter from the envelope. Nothing could have prepared me for its contents. In a shaky, slanted hand James wrote:

“I, James Ward, am of sound mind on this day, July 7, 2050. This is my confession in the murder of recording artist, Daniela Bianco on July 7, 2005, exactly 45 years ago today. There are no excuses for my behavior on that date or any day since. I have regretted my actions and have had to live with my own torturous thoughts. Having been recently diagnosed with dementia, I feel it time to finally write out my guilt and my motive. Ms. Bianco and I were once in love. It was an instant and deep love to which nothing could compare. We were inseparable in those early days of her fame. Our relationship was a secret. We could share our story with no one. This was painful for both she and I. When I decided to end it, she swore she would only ever love me. Throughout the following years, I grew more and more tormented every time I would see Daniela in the magazines or on the news with some other gentleman. I felt betrayed and my heart broke even more. I wanted to reach out to her many times but never made contact. On that fateful day, I happened upon her alone on the street and followed her to her recording studio. Before I could speak to her, I heard her saying “I love you” into her phone. In that moment, hearing those words broke me, and I grabbed her. She had no idea who I was or how to get away. After her neck snapped, it didn’t take long for her breathing to stop. I held her lifeless body in my arms for what seemed like hours. I removed her necklace from her neck and put it in my pocket. It wasn’t enough. I needed all of her. I looked around the studio and found a small computer drive titled simply, “Daniela, Album 6”. I pocketed it as well and then I ran. I had no plans after that. I just kept moving. I could never rid myself of the necklace or listen to the music on the drive, but it plagued me like Poe’s “A Tell-Tale Heart”, so I’ve kept it buried under my floors as penance. While I have spent the rest of my life free to do as I please, I have never been truly free.”

With tears falling down my cheeks, I folded the paper and slowly opened the lid to the box. There, lying on pink velvet, was the most breathtaking turquoise and diamond necklace and a small yellow computer drive labeled “Daniela, Album 6”.

It took me a while to move off the floor where I’d made the discovery. I was holding in my hands items that someone would pay a lot for, but my conscience was fighting me over the moral ramifications. At the same time, I was trying to understand how this sweet old man with such wonderful stories could have killed someone, especially someone he loved. I sat down at my computer and plugged in the drive. The folder opened on screen, and I clicked the ‘Untitled’ file. Music began to play; Daniela's now recognizable voice filled the room. Drowsiness from my long night at work and the sleeping pill were setting in. There was nothing I could do in that moment to make a clear-headed decision, so I went to bed and fell asleep.

When I awoke, I had to remind myself that the morning’s events were not a dream. My thoughts began to race with all the things I could do with the money if I sold the information I now held. I could travel the world like James. I could spend my life doing everything I’d ever dreamed. I could help so many people.

My decision was made in that moment. I got dressed and grabbed my keys. Removing the drive from my computer and returning it to the necklace box, I shoved it, along with the phone and envelope into my bag and drove into town.

“And that’s why I ended up here,” I said, handing James’ phone, letter, and the box containing the necklace and music drive to the man across from me. “I’ve spent all my adult life helping people. The best way I can continue that is to remain at my job and comfort people in their final days. I want to support them, and their families. I am loyal to my patients and my work. I cannot take a gift from someone who ended someone's life. And as much as I loved James, I cannot bear his guilt.”

The policeman looked questioningly at me from across the desk while rubbing his eyes. “Um," he paused, "thank you for telling me that in so much detail. I, personally, don’t know if I could’ve resisted the kind of payday this information might have, but I commend you for your integrity. I’ve taken some notes and will fill out the report. Go on home and someone will be out to inspect the house in the morning.”

I said, "Thank you" as the officer stopped the recorder. I got up from the chair and instantly felt lighter. The burden of that information, even if I carried it only for a short time, had worn me down. Part of me felt as if I'd lost James once again. Another part of me was angry that I'd been fooled by his charm. There was no excuse for what he did, but in a way, I accepted it. The love he had for Daniela and the extraordinary and powerful spell love had on him, stayed with him forever. His only solace was death.

As I left the station, I placed my earbuds in and scrolled to my music app on my phone. My newest playlist was at the top of the list. I clicked on “Daniela, Album 6,” and pressed play.