The Common Room

Tinky walked down the hallway of the Stony Brook Assisted Living Facility. The floor was clean and the air smelled fresh, but she made a note that one of the overhead lights was flickering. She passed one of the residents, Adrian, as he left the common room.

“Did Edgar beat you at chess again?” She asked him, teasingly. The older man smiled wanly.

“Naw. It’s just that guy’s here again.”

Tinky frowned. “Homer? Was he rude to you?”

“Naw, naw. There’s something about his voice, gets on my nerves.” Adrian sighed heavily. “Must be just me though. The ladies can’t get enough of him. Lucky devil…” 

Tinky giggled as Adrian shuffled off. She entered the spacious common room and made her way to the Computer Corner. They had recently upgraded to six up-to-date desktop computers with flatscreen monitors. At the moment, though, all four of the women residents in the room were gathered around one terminal. Agnes Cummings was seated in front of it, with a dark-haired younger man at her side. Agnes was looking at different parts of the monitor.

“Can he see me? Where’s the camera?” Agnes asked.

“Yes, he can see you. The camera’s right there.” The man pointed at the built-in webcam on the monitor. Then he pointed at a smaller window on the screen. “And there’s where you can see what he’s seeing.”

“Is it a recording?” Agnes asked.

“No, this is all live. Right now.” The man explained. “Say hello to your grandson.”

“But can he hear me?” Agnes shouted at the screen. “Connor, can you hear me?”

“I can hear you, grandma!” The boy on the screen said excitedly. He held up a crude painting “I made THIS is school today!”

“Oh, that’s wonderful!” Agnes beamed. “It’s like you were here in the room with me!” She turned to the ladies around her. “Isn’t he adorable? And he’s so talented!”

There was a murmur of agreement. Agnes pulled the man next to her in front of the camera. “Connor! This is my friend Homer! He’s the one who taught me how to use the computer! Can you say hello?”

“Hello Homer!” The boy yelled. Homer smiled awkwardly.

“Um, hi.” Homer stood from where he was crouching. “I’ll let you two talk.”

“You’ll be back to help me when it’s my turn, won’t you?” Asked one of the other ladies.

“And mine?” Chimed in another.

“Yeah, I’m not going anywhere. I just, uh-" he looked up and saw Tinky. “I have to talk to Tinky about something. I’ll be around.”

He stood and walked over to Tinky. They were nearly the same height, though Tinky was slightly taller in her boots.

“Am I ever glad to see you…” Homer sighed.

“You know, Homer, if you were thirty years older, you could have your pick of any woman in the place.” Tinky teased him.

“What, you mean…? Ugh!” Homer wrinkled his nose. “I like my fruit a little more fresh, thanks.”

Tinky was struck by Homer’s coarse tone. She tried to lighten their conversation. “I do appreciate you coming around and giving these lessons. It means the world to them.”

“Yeah, well, you paid me for the equipment, right? You might as well get your money’s worth out of it.”

Homer looked over his shoulder, then back at Tinky.

“Plus, you know, I don’t really mind having an excuse to come back see you again.” He grinned widely. 

Tinky smiled politely, but she found his manner off-putting. She tried to change the subject. “Uh-huh. Have you been in the computer business long?” 

“Oh, not specifically.” Homer seemed to forget his amorous tone when given the opportunity to talk about himself. “I got into it through some other interests. Surveillance, intelligence gathering, security, stuff like that. I’m mostly interested in sound design, and that’s motivated by my music.”

Homer puffed his chest up a litte. “I’m a musician, you know. I’m technically proficient in four instruments. And sound-mixing. And composing. Plus, I can DJ.”

“Great.” Tinky said, non-committally. “That’s very impressive."

“Yeah, it is. Hey, can we grab a chair? I really did want to talk to you about something.”

The pair went to a table in the common room and sat on opposite sides. Homer leaned close and spoke in a hushed tone.

“So, look, I have to wonder, “ He began. “In a business like this, how often does it happen that someone… You know, dies, but nobody realizes it for a couple of days?”

Tinky was shocked. “Days? Never.” She shook her head, composing a response. “Residents do pass away, yes, that comes with the territory with a facility like this. But me and the rest of the staff are very attentive. If someone passes in the night, they’ll be found the next day. Why would you ask something like that?”

“I didn’t know how much coming-and-going there was.” He explained. “But, okay, fine, you have people that check on them every day. But, what happens if a resident loses something and then accuses one of your people of stealing from them. Or, what if one of your people IS stealing? Or mistreating the residents in some other way? Elder abuse is a big deal, you know.”

“Yeah, I know that. Why are you asking?” Tinky was growing impatient.

Homer reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, flat cylindrical device. It was approximately the size of a Life Savers candy.

“I make these miniature cameras.” Homer explained. “This is some Diet Smith-level stuff right here. 12 megapixel resolution, built-in sound recording, and the video can be saved to a removable drive, or broadcast to a wi-fi enabled terminal for hard-drive storage. Basically, you can record everything. You put a couple of these in the residents’ room, the hallways, and the common areas, and you’ve got instant 24-hour surveillance and accountability.”

Tinky sat there with her jaw open for a moment. Finally, she spoke.

“Are you… Are you REALLY suggesting that I should hide video cameras in my residents’ rooms and record them without their knowledge? And do the same thing to my staff?”

Homer's face fell. “Well, yeah, I mean, in the interest of safety and security, I thought-"

“Forget it!” Tinky’s voice was louder than she had meant, and several of the residents turned at the noise. She smiled at them and waved, then turned back to Homer. “This is outrageous.”

“I’m just trying to help.”

“Well don’t, all right?” Tinky stood. “When you’re done with the computer tutorial, show yourself out. Spec will have a check for you at the front desk.”

Tinky stormed off. Homer slumped in his chair. “Women…” he mumbled.

Two Weeks Later

Homer drove his Hybrid up to the main entrance of Stony Brook and parked. He practically skipped up to the door. He had been very excited to receive Tinky’s phone call inviting to come back and discuss his proposed surveillance system.

She probably just needed some time to get used to the idea, he thought. All of my plans are coming together…

He approached the front desk and saw Tinky standing there. He smiled widely. Then, a familiar figure stepped out from the inner office. He was wearing a bow tie.

“Hiya, Peanut Butter. Been a while.” Sam Catchem said, grinning insincerely.

Homer looked surprised for a moment. Then he smiled. “Oh, hi Sam. It’s okay if I call you ‘Sam’, right?”

“I’d prefer ‘Detective Catchem’.” Sam said, still smiling.

“Oh. Okay.’ Homer turned to Tinky. “Me and Detective Catchem go way back.”

“I’ve heard.” Tinky said flatly.

“Yeah, Peanut Butter here was quite the little terror back in the day.” Sam offered.

“Nobody calls me ‘Peanut Butter’ anymore.” Homer said.

“No? What do they call you? Because I can think of a few things.” Tinky stood and slapped her hand down on the counter. She lifted it, revealing one of Homer’s miniature cameras. They stood there in silence for a moment.

“Nothing?” Tinky asked. “I found it behind that plant when I was dusting,” She indicated one of the houseplants on a shelf behind the front desk. “It was pointed at my desk. Where I work. All day.”

“It’s an impressive piece of equipment.” Sam added. “It’s like something Diet Smith himself would come up with.”

“I haven’t acknowledged that that’s mine, or that I put it there.” Homer said, flatly.

“You KNOW it’s yours! You showed it to me yourself!” Tinky was getting worked up.

“Prove it.” Homer crossed his arms.

“You know, Peanut Butter,” Sam began, “Whenever someone tells a cop to ‘prove it’, that usually means that they’re guilty. And that they think they’re smarter than the cop. Now, this is a rest home, which means they don’t allow smoking. And I’ve been standing here talking to Tinky for a while, which means I haven’t had a cigarette and I’m a little irritable. So maybe you want to adjust your tone and tactics, huh?”

Homer remained quiet.

“Won’t confirm or deny, huh? Okay.” Sam breathed heavily. “Here’s the situation. I could get a warrant and search your place and confiscate a LOT of your property and equipment to try and find a link to this camera here. And, being a dumb cop, that might take me a while. And Tinky here could go in front of a judge and get a restraining order, and that’s something that, as a cop, I could actually make happen pretty quickly. And that goes on your criminal record, which is something that potential employers look at or people who might rent you an apartment or give you a loan or anything like that. Understand?”

Homer didn’t speak.

“Of course you understand. You’re a smart guy.” Sam walked out from behind the counter. He stepped closer to Homer, but kept his hands in his pockets. “So, since you and me go way back, I’ve convinced Tinky that you’re an honorable enough guy that when she tells you to stay away from her and her business and her residents, that you’ll abide by that. Because you’re so honorable, AND because you’re smart enough to figure what’ll happen to you if you DON’T go along with what she says.”

Sam met Homer’s gaze and held it until Homer looked away.

“I get it.” Homer said quietly.

“I knew you would.” Sam smiled. He withdrew half a sandwich from his jacket pocket and took a bite. 

“When I can’t smoke, I eat. I’d offer you some, but it’s pastrami not peanut butter.”

Homer looked back at Tinky. His voice was plaintive. “Look, Tinky, I really wanted to get to know you better, you know? To get close to you. That’s all. I think you’re really pretty, and sweet, and I don’t know anyone else like you.”

Tinky looked at him with her brow furrowed. “You’re a creep, Homer. I don’t know if you think you’re charming, or impressive or what, but this is NONE of those. It’s just gross. And until you figure that out, you’re going to be alone. And that doesn’t bother me at all.”

Sam put a hand on Homer’s shoulder. “I think it’s time for you to go.”

Homer shrugged off Sam’s hand. “I’m leaving, all right?” He pointed back at the camera “And whoever designed and built that thing? He wasn’t just ‘impresive’. He was a genius. It’s too bad you can’t see that. You can stay here and decompose like the rest of the zombies for all I care.”

Homer stormed out. Sam turned back to Tinky.

“Personally, I don’t think he’s dangerous,” Sam began, “But if you want to go ahead with that restraining order, I can make it happen fast. I could even put a tail on him, if you want.”

Tinky rubbed her face. “No. Thanks, Sam. I really appreciate you coming out here like this. Are you going to tell Dick?”

“Do you want me to?” Sam asked.

“He’d just worry.” Tinky acknowledged. “I’ll be fine.”

Sam stood there, unsure what to do now. They heard Homer’s tires squeal in the driveway as he sped off.

“Do YOU want a bite of my sandwich?” Sam asked, weakly.

END