Because in the background, a man could plainly be seen stealing the lid of their trash can.
After the photo was taken, Scarlett reported the theft of the lid to her dad, who said, “It must have just gotten knocked off. No one steals trash can lids.” Which was a reasonable enough assumption, except that it was false—a fact he admitted when he saw the picture and said, “Oh yeah. I guess you were right.” They still had that trash can, and it still had no lid.
This photo used to hang proudly with the dozen or so others behind the front desk downstairs (the Martins liked photos), but Marlene had requested that it be taken down. She didn’t like people seeing her “bald pictures.” So it had been moved here, to the fifth floor. Scarlett didn’t think this was a crazy request. She had never liked having the picture downstairs, advertising to the world that you could steal stuff from the Hopewell, get your picture taken doing it, and almost be celebrated for your accomplishment.
What disturbed Scarlett about the photograph now, however, was the strange woman who was staring at it when she got home from school. She wasn’t a guest—they only had five right now, and all of them were male, in town for a business meeting about popcorn franchises. This woman was maybe about fifty and carried a small plastic bag from Macy’s in one hand, and a clump of tissues in the other. Scarlett had already had a painfully long week, and this wasn’t the kind of thing you wanted to find on a Friday afternoon.
“Can I help you?” Scarlett asked nervously.
“He killed Sonny,” the woman said, poking at Spencer’s photo with the tissues.
Scarlett did a quick mental inventory. She could tell from the quiet that she was the only Martin on the floor. The woman was three doors away, past the bathroom and Marlene’s room and the Jazz Suite. Three doors was ample running room, and chances were, the woman had no idea which door the stairs were hidden behind. She could make it, easy. Escape, very possible.
Just to be safe, she did a second inventory, looking for any possible weapon she had that could fend off an attacker, but the only thing in sight was a pair of Marlene’s sneakers, which she had left in the hall by her door. Marlene’s sneakers were small and from Payless. Scarlett had a similar pair, and she had once tried to kill a roach with them and, after beating said roach with one, the roach quite literally shook itself off and walked away, almost with an audible laugh. The only other option was a pile of newspapers that someone, possibly her, was supposed to take down for recycling. Newspaper is a terrible weapon.
The woman turned to Scarlett with a genuinely confused expression.
“Why did he do it?” she asked. “Kill Sonny?”
“Because that’s what the script said?” Scarlett replied.
The woman sighed. She was clearly not going to cause any harm, but still. It is never good to find someone crying in your hall, poking your brother’s picture with tissues.
“How did you get up here?” Scarlett asked.
“One of the men downstairs let me in,” she said. “No one was around. I just walked around until I got up here and saw this picture. I read about this place online…”
“We live up here,” Scarlett said. “This is our house, this part.”
“Oh!” The woman looked genuinely contrite. “I didn’t know. It doesn’t say.”
“It usually doesn’t come up,” Scarlett said.
“This young man…is your brother?”
“Yes,” Scarlett said. “My older brother. And he’s nice. Not, you know, a killer. Just an actor.”
“I’m sure he is,” she said, though not very convincingly. “I just wanted to see him and ask him, and I found this hotel online, and I just wanted to ask him why. I loved Sonny. I’ve loved Sonny for fifteen years.”
“The guy is fine,” Scarlett said. “He just moved to LA.”
“Guy?”
“The actor,” Scarlett said.
The woman cocked her head in bafflement.
“The actor who played Sonny,” Scarlett said.
“I just want to know why…”
She started crying again.
“I was sick for a long time,” the woman said, dabbing her eyes. “I couldn’t do much. I used to watch Crime and Punishment a lot.”
“My sister used to be really sick, too,” Scarlett said, trying to show the woman she understood, even though she didn’t. “She used to watch a lot of TV. And I loved Sonny, too.”
“I felt like Sonny was always there. I could always depend on him. Now I don’t know what to do.”
“The spin-off is pretty good,” Scarlett said. “Crime and Punishment: First Degree?”
“I tried that,” she said, crying harder. “It’s not the show. It’s Sonny. I just don’t understand. I need to understand. Who would do this? What kind of person?”
Her intensity was making the hair on Scarlett’s arms stand on end.
“Let me show you something,” Scarlett said. “Wait right there…”