Who Do I Think I Am??

This one's about the clues.

THE PROMPT: "Clue or clues as to why the dead _____________ is inside that room."

After a night spent ignoring all of the winter storm warnings for the area, Chet awoke to nearly a foot of snow on the ground. Sensing the sidewalks were going to be a mess, he decided it'd be the perfect opportunity to call in sick for work. "Maybe it's what I need to ease my mind a little bit," he said to himself as he picked up the phone. Work was slow this time of year anyway, so he didn't think it'd be a problem.

His boss, on the other hand, was not pleased. "Dammit, Smythe...you know the bigwigs are gonna be in town next week! We're shorthanded as it is, and now this. This is just great. You plannin' on comin' in tomorrow?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'll be in tomorrow. Just, with moving, and the weather, I can't do it today." Chet stuttered. He always knew the words...studying them over and over in his head. But when it came time for him to commit them to his voice, they always seemed to fail him.

"Well, rest up and I'll see you tomorrow." His boss seemed a little less upset. "We've got a big week ahead, so no excuses. Our clients are here first thing in the morning, and they go through the same snowstorm you would." And as abrubtly as his boss ended the conversation, Chet had rolled over and was back asleep.

Around 11am, Chet decided to get up and take another look out the window. It had stopped snowing, and the motel lot was being plowed. He figured now was as good a time as any to see if there was anything the motel staff could do about his television. He made his way over to the office, and paused to look into the window first to make sure someone was there.

The old man behind the counter seemed familiar, but Chet was too preoccupied with what he was going to say to him to realize any more than that. He exhaled deeply and made his way into the office.

"Yeah?" the man asked curtly. He seemed to make Chet nervous right off the bat.

"M-m-my tv in room 3...it's not working."

The old man didn't seem to mind. "Yeah? Well, whaddya want me to do about it?"

Chet didn't have a response for that question ready. "I- I don't know. Can it be replaced?

The old man snickered. "Boy, you think I just store tv's here? You think I got a damn warehouse full of tv's? Huh. Tell you what, let me call my guy and see what I can do. I'll call you back this afternoon."

Chet nodded and thanked him, and clumsily made his way out. He noticed a diner across the street of the motel's lot, and figured it was time for a decent cup of coffee. Crossing the busy street was difficult enough without a foot of snow on the ground. Chet nearly slipped three times across those four lanes before finding the front door.

It hit him almost as instantly as the heat from the diner did when he walked in...Mr. Depew! The motel manager! That was Mr. Depew! But his excitement at remembering who that familiar face was faded about as quickly as his coffee came. And with that first sip came the realizations that this was not the place to get a decent cup off coffee, and he wasn't gonna see a television anytime soon.

Brad Depew had two qualities Chet could distinctly remember...his temper, and the way he was overprotective of his daughter, Alice. Alice was beautiful and smart, but shy and easily manipulated. Brad had raised her on his own after questionable circumstances surrounding her mother's passing. It was one of the few secrets in a part of Walden where everybody knew what the neighbors were up to.

Chet and Alice dated off and on throughout high school, with the relationship culminating at their senior prom. But Mr. Depew grew tired of the lack of commitment on Chet's behalf, plus the fact that Chet was taking Alice out on the weekends to parties with people he felt were of ill-repute. Alice as well grew tired of Chet's infidelity and lack of seriousness, and ended the relationship along with the summer. She didn't want to be stuck with someone at home while she went away to college. Chet tried to talk her back into his arms one more time, but the power of leaving Walden once and for all was just too strong for Alice to pass up.

Not liking his chances at the motel with Mr. Depew, Chet stopped at the mini-mart next to the diner for a newspaper, some Hot Pockets and a couple of duece-dueces. The streets had been plowed and salted, making for a slightly easier trek home. As he fished for his room key, he saw a note on his door. It read: "Rm.3- tv. Please come to the office." Chet was curious, so he hurriedly threw his purchase into the room, locked it back up and headed down to see Mr. Depew.

He entered the office and nervously rang the bell. Mr. Depew came from the back and said, "Listen, Smythe. I got a hold of my guy and he found a tv. You just gotta gimme a hand gettin' it over to your room."

Chet looked at him with a mixture of shock and relief. "You- you remember me, Mr. Depew?"

"Yeah, I do, Smythe. Save the nostalgia trip and grab a side of this tv." Yup, he didn't seem as excited as Chet.

As they shimmied down to Chet's room, Chet was awkward with the silence. Depew helped him get the tv inside and carry the old one out to the dumpster. Chet invited him back in and asked him if there was anything he could do for Mr. Depew in appreciation for resolving the tv issue. Depew looked around and saw the beer. "I'll take one of those," he said, and helped himself to a duece-duece. He sat down and cracked it, relieved that he was done with doing work a 70-year-old shouldn't be doing.

Chet grabbed one also and sat across from him. He was never good at conversation with people he wasn't familiar with, and worse with people that were familiar with him for the wrong reasons. "Uhhhh, soooooo, how's Alice?" He'd always assumed that she'd met someone in college, settled down, and never returned to Walden with any fanfare. The college was in California, and it was the only one that would give her a scholarship. She wanted to go for drama, having dabbled a little in theater during her teens. After what they'd been through growing up, it wasn't much of a surprise to Chet that he hadn't heard from her, even though he'd never forgotten about her.

"Listen son," Depew said as he put his beer down, "Alice is gone."

"Gone? Where?" Chet was confused.

Depew stood up, fixed his jacket, and said, "After she got on that damn tv show, she was hangin' around everyone. Those star types, those actors, those drug dealers. She OD'd a year after she got that role on that show. Never watched it. Couldn't stand the thought. And I was right." Depew's anger was getting more and more visable.

Chet's jaw hit the floor. "I had no idea, sir...she was famous? And now...now, she's...dead?" If Depew hadn't just moved two tv's he may have had the strength to slap Chet five across the face.

"Famous my ass! She was in L.A. and on tv. You don't become famous at that age until you die. 27 they say, that's the age." Depew sat down again, just to retie his boots.

"I never knew, sir," said Chet, "but when did this happen?"

Depew exhaled, exasperated. "My own papa died a year after she left for college, and left me this dump. Had to quit my job as a programmer to take care of this place. Soon as Alice graduated, she went on tryout after tryout. She called one day to tell me about some tv comedy show they were gonna give her a part on. Was the last time I cried...my little girl. Happy as hell for her, meanwhile, I got this," as he turned and pointed at the motel walls. "Didn't hear from her for awhile...'til I heard from the coroner."

Chet was about to express his concern when Depew interrupted him. "Had to sell the house and everything. When her tuition bills got out of hand, I moved here. She took everything with her, just about."

"Everything?" Chet managed to sneak out.

"Well, damn near it. 'Cept a box of mementos I found when I was movin' here. There was a dozen carnations pressed out, so I went to the dollar store and got a bunch of vases. Put one in every room." He started making his way to the door. "Hope that tv works for ya."

Stunned, Chet stopped him. "Sir, were those-"

"Yeah, they were yours. From the prom. She loved you, boy. Loved you. I don't know that she ever loved again." And with that, he left.

Chet didn't know what to think. He had nothing to say, and even if he did he had no one to say it to. He went to take care of Depew's beer can, to find that there was only a sip missing. He sat down, turned on the old tv Depew's guy found for him, and another hum and a pop later, figured he was better off downing that beer in the silence of his thoughts.