Okay, here I go avoiding writing that blahg to unpack the 2025 False Ducks Video Ramble.
Well, I got a little sidetracked when an idea for a short story popped into my head. The keys in the picture to the right were turned in at my office the other day. You can see that the words HC Sidney are written on the card inside the red tag. Sidney is the name of the building and street where I work. The HC is a mystery. No one has yet to claim the keys. That was the inspiration for my new story, “The Keys of Harold Crenshaw.” I’ll writing that unpacking blahg later but I’m proud to present my new short story.
The Keys of Hiram Crenshaw
By
Scott Henderson
Cole Bronson bent down and picked up the red object half sticking out of the snow next to his car. He was surprised to find that it was a plastic key tag with two keys attached. The tag was the kind that opened so you could slide in a small piece of card with an identifying message. This tag had “H.C.” written inside in black marker.
“I wonder who these belong to? Cole said aloud. “H.C.” he murmured to himself as if just saying the initials would unlock their secrets. “I wonder what these unlock?” He didn’t even stop to laugh at his own keys unlocking secrets notion.
Cole looked around. There was no one else outside. The keys could have come from anywhere. They could have fallen out of someone’s pocket. He thought about his neighbour Jill who had the parking spot next to him. Jill wasn’t an H.C. Still, they could be hers because they were found beside his car and hers was the next spot over on that side.
“I’ll have to ask her.” Cole pocketed the keys and headed inside. He glanced back over his shoulder one more time. Nope, no one else outside. The parking lot was empty of tenants. Cars, yes. People no.
It was a fairly large parking lot with the availability to accommodate fifty cars. His apartment building had thirty units inside and there were spots for the thirty apartments in addition to the ones for visitors and the accessible spaces. Still, there were never more than twenty cars in the lot at any given time.
It had snowed the night before and the plow had come early. It was on mornings like this that Cole wished his building had a parking garage or even underground parking. He’d totally ignored the automated call from Property Management telling him the snow plow was on its way and he was required to move his car. The plow would first clear the empty spots and then tenants could move their vehicles to the plowed sites and then move them back after the plow had finished the rest of the lot. Normally he would have obliged but it was Sunday and Sunday meant sleeping in. He knew later he’d get a notice about his failure to relocate his vehicle because the plow driver always recorded the license plates of people who didn’t comply.
“I hate that guy,” Cole said aloud. He didn’t care who knew it and he didn’t care if any anyone heard him. The driver was someone’s brother-in-law. He’d heard it gossiped in the elevator. Nepotism ran rampant around the building. One of the cleaners was a sister of one of the owners and someone’s son cut the grass in the summer.
“I think half the dogs in the building are related to each other as well,” Cole stated. He chuckled at that one.
Cole pulled out his own keys and unlocked the main entrance. He had a thought. He retrieved the key tag and tried one of the keys in the front lock. It fit and turned; unlocking the door. He tried the other. It slid into the lock but would not engage.
“Apartment key, maybe,” Cole said. He compared his own keys. They looked very similar. “Yep, just like mine, one for the main entrance and one for the apartment door. Mystery solved.” Of course the mystery wasn’t solved. He still didn’t know what apartment the other key unlocked. He still didn’t know who “H.C.” was. It wasn’t like he could try the key in every apartment to see which one it unlocked. Cole thought about that for a second and then dismissed it. That might have worked for Cinderella but glass slippers were not the same as keys on a plastic tag. Besides, unlocking someone else’s door would probably get him into a world of trouble.
Cole pocketed the keys again and started for the stairs. He liked climbing the steps. He liked to avoid the elevator; even if was a good spot for building gossip. He liked the exercise. It gave him time to think.
“Hillary Clinton, Harry Connick, Hoagy Carmichael, Harry Chapin, Howard Cossell.” As he trod to the third floor, Cole began to recite the famous names he could recall that began with H.C. He’d had a look at the directory in the lobby but no name matched the initials on the tag and some of the listings only had an apartment number associated with the call button. Some people liked their privacy and did not like to have their name listed. “Hopalong Cassidy,” he continued. “No, he’s fictional.” It was just a game but it amused him all the way up.
Cole stopped at his apartment door and reached into his parka to retrieve his keys. The tag with the mystery keys came out as well, entangled in his own. He looked down at them and then walked down the hall to the next apartment and knocked. Cole’s neighbour Jill answered the door.
“Are these yours?” Cole asked before Jill could say anything. He was always tongue-tied when it came to Jill. Sometimes he called her Julie out of nervousness and once for some odd reason, Jennifer.
“Which ones?” Jill questioned back.
Cole looked down and saw that he was holding up all of the entangled keys. He quickly separated his own and held up the red tag.
“These ones, er, I found them, uhm, in the parking lot, you know, in the snow next to my car near yours…or, well you know, where you park.” Cole was stammering but Jill got the gist.
“Oh those, no I tossed them there as a gag,” Jill quietly replied.
“Really?” Cole asked with his mouth gaping open.
“No, not really, Cole. I was just having you on. I’ve never seen them before.”
Cole nervously laughed and then put the keys back in his pocket.
“Let me see those again,” Jill continued and extended a waiting hand.
“Here,” Cole said, offering up the keys. “The tag says H.C. but I haven’t got a clue who that is.”
“Did you check the directory?” Jill offered.
“No one with an H.C. listed but that doesn’t mean anything.”
“What’s this on the back?” Jill pointed to flipside of the tag. She could see something on the other side of the card that bore the H.C. initials.
Cole couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought to look on the other side. Clearly there was a bar code with a Universal Product Code number underneath.
“Come on inside, Cole,” Jill motioned to him. “Let’s look it up.”
“Uh, okay,” Cole mumbled. He couldn’t believe he was being invited in to Jill’s apartment. He didn’t care now about the mystery keys. If nothing else, they’d unlocked the opportunity for him to be invited into his pretty neighbour’s home.
“H.C., H.C.,” Jill said over again a few times. I wonder who it can be?”
“It’s not Hopalong Cassidy,” Cole found himself uttering before he gave himself to think. He was just a little unnerved in her presence and being in her apartment.
Jill looked at Cole and laughed.
“Good one Cole. Hilarious Cole. There’s another H.C. for you.” She thought about saying ‘Handsome Cole’ but she could see that he was nervous enough. “Let me pull out my tablet and I’ll look up the UPC number.” She gestured for Cole to sit down.
Cole took a seat on a futon and looked around. The apartment was nice. It was organized and clean. There were a few photos on the walls and others scattered around the apartment. None of them featured Jill or Jill with a mystery person that would have told Cole she had a significant other.
Jill caught Cole looking at the photos.
“Parents, sister, brother, college friends, and oh, that one there, came with the frame.” Jill really did have a sense of humor. First the joke about deliberately throwing the keys in the snow and now the comment about the photo. Cole stood up and walked over to the aforementioned frame. It featured a dog.
“I call him Carnival Barker,” Jill called out. “I don’t know why. He just looks like a Carnival Barker.”
“Well, I’ll tell him to stay off the furniture if I see him.” Cole was starting to feel more relaxed.
“Very humorous, Cole,” Jill said to him. “Humorous Cole, there’s another. Let’s get that code.”
Cole sat down and waited for Jill to announce the results of her search.
“I don’t know, Cole, maybe we don’t want to know what the code is for. It might be for some product that’s odd or perverted.”
“Like Hemorrhoid Cream?” Cole couldn’t help it. Like listing off celebrities with the H.C. initials, the product idea had popped quickly into his head.
Jill turned toward Cole and began to laugh until the laughing consumed her and she had to lean over and take in short breaths.
“Stop. It. Cole. You’re. Making. My. Side. Hurt.” She had pronounced every word through quick breaths and trailing laughter.
Cole would have been proud of himself except he didn’t think his first intimate encounter would end with her laughing at him and clutching her self for control.
Previous interactions between the pair had always been brief. He’d met her outside a few times when they were getting in or exiting their vehicles. They’d swapped pleasantries or complained about the snow on their vehicles when they were valiantly brushing them clear. He’d passed her in the hall or held the door open for her but they hadn’t exchanged much except the aforementioned greetings or occasional grumblings. At some point they’d obviously exchanged names; even if Cole hadn’t always remembered hers correctly.
After collecting herself, Jill returned to the search.
“Oh, here it is!” Jill exclaimed. She handed the tablet over to Cole.
Yep, there it was. An order page for the Klassen Click Key Tag available in a range of colours. Definitely not hemorrhoid cream. The UPC was obviously standard on the back of the complimentary slip of paper enclosed in the tag.
“Well, there goes that idea,” Cole responded as he passed the tablet back to Jill.
“Wait Cole, don’t give up so easily. This is a mission. We’ve got to get these keys back to their rightful owner.” Jill obviously wasn’t discouraged. “Where did you say you found them again?”
“I was digging out my car and I uncovered them between your spot and mine.”
“Wait, you didn’t move your car this morning for the plow? Didn’t you get the automated call?
“Yes, I did,” Cole replied, “but I chose to ignore it.”
“You’re going to get a notice later.” Jill offered up.
“I know. I hate that guy.” Cole still didn’t care who knew it.
“You and me both,” Jill chimed. She reached into a drawer in an end table beside the futon. “Here’s mine from last time.”
Jill began to read from it. “This is a reminder that all tenants must move their vehicle on hearing that the snow plow will be arriving at the building. Failure to do so…blah blah blah.”
“I hate that guy,” Cole said again. He glanced at Jill’s copy and saw her license plate and apartment number scribbled across the top. There was no HC in the license number. Another theory shot down.
“Wait a minute Cole, I have an idea.” Jill grabbed up her tablet again and snapped a picture of the mysterious Klassen tag. Within moments Cole could hear the sound of a printer engaging from across the room.
Jill walked over and removed the paper from the tray and then scrawled something across the top of it. She gave it to Cole for his consideration.
Cole read from the paper. “Are these your keys? Found near spot 28 in the parking lot. See Jill Martin in apartment 306.”
“What’s with the apartment 306?” Cole asked. “I was the one that found them.”
“Yes, and now I’m holding onto them for you until we find out who these belong to. You and I are in this together.” Cole liked the sound of that.
“Can’t we just ask around? We’re bound to eventually find the owner. Why invite them to your apartment?”
“It worked on you Cole. Look on this as a form of social interaction…a chance at human contact. You try your way and I’ll try mine and we’ll see who gets the best results.”
Jill was right. The keys had worked to unlock an interaction between the pair of them. He was hoping to build on that.
“Where are you going to hang your makeshift poster?” Cole thought to ask.
“I was thinking about that bulletin board in the laundry room,” she answered.
Cole thought about it. It seemed like a logical place. There was lots of space on there. He’d only ever seen one notice and that was from someone who was offering their services as a dog-walker. When Cole saw that, he was sure it was probably another relative of the property management group.
“Hey, while you’re at it, call up that dog-walker and see if they want to take on Carnival Barker as a client.” Cole jibed.
Jill began to laugh again; not as hard as she had at the hemorrhoid cream comment but it wasn’t forced and Cole accepted that he was making inroads with her.
“I’ll hold onto the keys,” Jill began, after composing herself. “I’ll put up the poster and you do your asking around. I’ll check back with you in a couple of days and we’ll compare notes.”
Cole went home and thought about his encounter with Jill. Five minutes later there was a knock on the door. His thoughts were still of Jill as he expectantly opened the door. It was a representative of the property management group there to hand him a notice about not moving his car.
“I hate that guy!” Cole exclaimed after he’d closed his door and was sure the management flunky was out of earshot.
Two days went by and Cole heard nothing from Jill. He didn’t pass her in the building and she made no effort to reach out to him. Sometimes her car was in the lot and sometimes it wasn’t. Cole didn’t want to come across as pushy so he waited for her to come to him.
On the third day it snowed again. Cole made sure he responded to the call and dutifully moved his vehicle. He had hoped to see Jill but she’d ignored her obligation and Cole was a little angry when he saw the plow driver jotting down her license plate.
That evening there was a loud and rapid knock on his door. Cole didn’t immediately think of Jill. He thought of the plow driver and that maybe Cole was getting an erroneous notice or that they were mistakenly delivering Jill’s notice to him.
Cole opened the door to find Jill who quickly barged past him waving a piece of paper.
“Look at this Cole! Can you believe it?”
“Let me guess, you got another notice. You should have knocked on my door, I would have moved your car for you.”
“Not now, Cole. Look at this!” Jill repeated.
Cole grabbed at the offered paper. It was the poster with the photo of the key tag with attached keys. Underneath, in a scrawling hand was written in capital letters, THOSE ARE THE KEYS OF HIRAM CRENSHAW.
“Who’s Hiram Crenshaw?” was all Cole could think to ask.
“I don’t know but it’s something to go on.” Jill responded.
“What if it’s some kind of gag? I’ve never heard of Hiram Crenshaw. Why did someone write that on there instead of coming up to your apartment to tell you?” Cole thought they were all valid points.
“I told you, it’s about social interaction. People are afraid anymore. It’s easier to leave an anonymous note than to reach out to someone. That reminds me, how did you make out with your asking around?”
“About the same. People scurry by you on their way out or on their way in. Everyone rushes out of their car and into the building. No one stops to chat. A few said they saw the poster but didn’t recognize the keys. Now I guess I’ll have to ask people if they know Hiram Crenshaw.”
“Too slow,” Jill interjected. “We need something that brings people together. We need to get them out of their apartments.”
“Just wait until the next snow fall, and they’re all outside relocating their SUVs.” Cole had observed on more than one occasional that there were way too many SUVs in the parking lot.
“Don’t remind me! I got my second notice slipped under my door,” Jill complained.
“I hate that guy!” Cole was getting repetitive in his thoughts about the snow plow driver. “We should host a party for everyone in the building to celebrate their hatred of that guy.”
“Hey, that’s not a bad idea,” Jill enthused. “We should host a party for people in the building.”
“No thanks,” Cole quickly replied. “I don’t know about you but I don’t want a bunch of strangers traipsing through my apartment.”
Jill looked around at Cole’s apartment. It already looked like a bunch of strangers had marched through there. There were newspapers on Cole’s coffee table, his dining table, and his counters. The sink wasn’t full but there were a few unwashed dishes. Maybe Cole would have tidied up if he’d known she was stopping by.
“Me neither, I was thinking about the Common Room,” Jill offered.
Cole didn’t think about the Common Room. In the three years he’d lived there, he’d never seen it opened. He’d tried the lock a couple of times but it refused him entry. He didn’t even know who had a key for the room.
“It’s always locked,” Cole reminder her.
“Leave that to me. Let’s do what we did before. I’ll post a notice in the laundry room and you spread the word when you see other tenants. Hiram Crenshaw’s out there somewhere.” Jill was rubbing her hands together as she spoke. She was digging in deep into this mystery.
Jill stuck around for a little while longer and she and Cole began to plan the gathering.
The following weekend the common room was opened and Jill and Cole began to decorate and lay out snacks. They split the cost. Jill kept going on about social interaction and human contact until Cole just had to tune her out. He did what she asked and they would have to just see what resulted from the fruits of their labours.
About a dozen people turned out in addition to Jill and Cole. There wasn’t a Hiram Crenshaw in the lot nor did anyone claim the keys or admit to penning the note about Hiram on Jill’s original poster. Throughout the evening, Jill walked around with the keys suspended from a rainbow lanyard she hung about her neck. No one commented on them.
The evening wasn’t an entire loss. They learned more about some of the other tenants.
There was Maragret, an elderly retired schoolteacher who gave piano lessons in her spare time.
Priya and Harmish were a young couple on the first floor who were expecting a baby in the spring.
Then there was Gary and Derek, a couple of accountants or an accountants couple. They had been the only ones who had noted Jill’s rainbow lanyard. They did not inquire about the keys.
Ted was a bartender and starving artist. He made Cole uncomfortable when it seemed he was trying to monopolize Jill’s time.
“Not too shabby,” Cole volunteered to Jill as he began to clear up after the last of the party stragglers had made their way to the elevator. “Still, no Hiram Crenshaw and we’re still stuck with his keys.”
“Never mind about that,” Jill countered. “There are still about half as many tenants we haven’t reached. Some of those who came tonight gave me ideas about other things they’d like to see happen in here. We’re not licked yet. Give it some time.”
Cole agreed to let Jill lead on this one. And she did.
Soon there were more events with even more participants. Jill took some initiative and others followed. Their first initial gathering led to others and then to game nights and movie nights and sporting events. More than half of the building turned out for the hockey playoffs. Jill had contacted the owners and told them what was happening in the building and asked for the donation of a large screen television. The owners obliged and threw in a sports package. On the final night of the playoffs even the owners stopped in to watch. They were amazed at how the building came together.
Everyone began to talk to each other more. People would stop and chat in the halls, or on the stairs, or in the elevators. Gone was the gossiping…soon replaced by genuine inquiries about everyone else’s lives.
Gary and Derek hosted an income tax session. Ted gave a private showing of some of his art. It bolstered him to have an even larger screening at a local art gallery.
Dog owners had play dates and soon were seen walking their canines outside. The dogs loved bounding through the snow.
Other tenants took to knocking on the doors of other apartments when they noticed cars not being moved after a snowfall. Some even moved cars for others.
In the spring, there was a gathering to build raised community garden boxes and to begin the planting of seedlings. The owners were more than generous with donations to these endeavours.
At the end of April, Priya gave birth to a baby girl. There was an improvised baby shower in the common room.
In June, Margaret passed away and everyone mourned. There was a celebration of life held in the building and everyone came out. The owners installed a plaque to her in the lobby.
Birthdays and anniversaries were not forgotten either and it seemed like every week there was some event that brought most everyone out.
“I wonder what ever happened to Hiram Crenshaw?” Cole thought to ask one night as he and Jill were tidying after a potluck she had organized. Cole had managed a tasty dip that he had assembled himself with the help of an internet recipe. It had been months since their first party in the common room and Jill still wore the lanyard with the mystery keys. The building had come together and, with all the gatherings, Cole had stopped thinking about the keys and the mysterious Hiram Crenshaw.
“Does it matter?” Jill asked. “I think he’s served his purposed.”
“What do you mean?” Cole queried.
“The keys of Hiram Crenshaw brought everyone in this building together.”
“I think you did that,” Cole said.
“With your help,” Jill added.
“So, you’re just going to keep wearing the keys around your neck as an homage to everything that’s happened?”
“That, and as a reminder of the success of a grand experiment.” Jill smiled and Cole could sense there was as much behind that smile as there was behind her statement.
“I don’t get it,” was all Cole could think to say.
“It’s simple,” Jill began, “let me show you.”
Jill hustled Cole out of the common room, closed the door, removed the keys from around her neck and inserted one in the lock and turned it.
“I still don’t get it,” Cole said. “You mean you discovered that one of the keys unlocked the common room and you didn’t tell me?”
“Listen Cole, remember when you first found the keys and you brought them to me? What did I say?”
“You mean the bit about the dog photo coming with the frame?”
“No, not that part,” she replied. “Before that. You said you had found the keys in the snow between your car and mine.”
“I remember,” Cole interrupted. “And you said you’d tossed them there as a gag. You don’t mean this whole time you’ve been having me on?”
Jill reached out and hooked her arm in his and started marching him toward the elevator.
“Except it wasn’t a gag. It was an experiment,” Jill continued. I’ve lived here just as long as you have and I was getting tired of not knowing my neighbours. You and I had only exchanged a few words before that and now look at us. We’re practically inseparable.”
“And what about this experiment of yours? What about the H.C.? What about the keys of Hiram Crenshaw?” As they stood waiting for the elevator, Cole had a number of unanswered questions running through his brain.
“Remember what else I told you that first night? Human Contact. That was the experiment. I’d contacted Property Management about using the common room and they let me have a key to it. They said they didn’t think anyone else was going to use it. I was determined to prove them wrong. Dropping the keys in the snow was the first step in the experiment. One key was for the common room and the other is my spare main entrance key. I found the key tag in an old drawer after I moved in. I had no use for it then so I held onto it. I’m glad I did.”
“And the H.C.?” Cole felt he knew the answer but he had to ask.
“Human Contact. The grand experiment. Look what you and I have done for this building.”
“And Hiram Crenshaw?” One final unanswered question.
“I scrawled that onto the poster. I tried to disguise my handwriting. I figured that would draw you in more. You wanted to know the owner of the keys and I provided you with one. Those are the keys of Hiram Crenshaw.”
“Well, it worked. You roped me in. I’m not mad. I’m just surprised. I’m glad I could help out.” Cole was pleased with himself.
They rode the elevator together to the third floor and they continued to talk about Hiram Crenshaw and the grand experiment. They stopped when they reached Cole’s door.
“Do you want to come in for a bit?” Cole asked with hope in his heart. He wanted to test her notion of being inseparable. He’d been keeping his apartment tidy ever since that first time she’d dropped over. Another success chalked up to the keys.
“Not tonight Cole,” she reluctantly replied. “Give me time. You and I are a grand experiment, too. I’ve been in other long-term relationships before and I’m not ready to commit to another one. Besides, I’d have to have a picture of you for when you’re not around and the only frame I have available is the one of my dog. I’m just not sure I’m ready to do that to Carnival Barker.
The End
Tags: False Ducks, Scott Henderson, Short Story