Knock, knock, knock, the innocent knocking on a neighbor’s door is how it began. One of life’s every day tragedies. As the next few minutes passed the knocking begins and stops a number of times. Each time it starts up again it is louder and more insistent, growing to be frantic. Eventually I became concern, who was banging on my next door neighbor’s door. I first looked through the peep hole to see if it was the police. Turns out it's just a normal looking guy in slacks and dress shirt with a tie on so I opened the door to see what’s going on.

As soon as I opened the door he asked me if I know Janice, my neighbor. “Who’s asking?” “I’m her boss” was his reply. He then went on to explain how she had not been to work lately. I hadn’t seen her in in a few weeks, which is normal. Janice worked two jobs so even when you did see her it was just in passing. While we talked his cell phone rang; he drifted away some to keep his conversation private. When the call was over he explained that the call was Janice’s mother. They had been talking back and forth for a few hours.

That creepy feeling that caused me to investigate the knocking in the first place suddenly got much stronger. “I hesitate in asking this but have you considered calling the police and asking for a ‘well-being’ check?” Ken, Janice’s boss said that her mother had already called the police. She had phoned Janice over the weekend but she lives in New York. She just thought that Janice was being her usual busy self, We stood around waiting for the police to come for a little bit longer before I suggested that maybe a local call might get a faster response. It was a good thing I said something because when “Mom” called she couldn’t remember the apartment letter.

It wasn’t long after Ken called that the first responding officer arrived. She loudly knocked on the door announcing “Police” as she did. She called for a sergeant on scene. I let the officer know that if someone was up for it, it might be possible to climb from the back staircase on to her deck for a better look. She had a better idea and called dispatch to send the fire department. All I could think was, this isn’t going to end well.

The fire department arrived and put a ladder up to Janice’s deck. Checking the doors and windows accessible from the deck they found an unlocked window. The police cautiously entered the quiet apartment. Very shortly they returned and asked “can we go through your apartment again? She’s in there. She’s gone; it’s a crime scene now.”

In that moment I was glad I watch too many crime dramas for I knew that the scene of any unattended death would be treated as a possible crime scene. As the next couple of hours passed the officers began their investigation. They asked Ken for Janice’s mom’s contact info. While he was looking it up on his phone’s call list it began to ring. It was her mother. The officer told him he knew this would be hard but he should ignore her calls. He explained that they would contact the local police in New York and they would handle the notification.

They asked my neighbor as they came home when the last time they had seen Janice was. Did we know if she had any health problems? We all had the same answer; we couldn’t remember when the last time we had seen her. No, we weren’t aware of any health problems. Personally we had commiserated about our aches and pains but nothing more. After a while I went inside. I didn’t want to watch them remove her remains.

Janice was a friendly African-American woman who worked two jobs to afford to buy her condominium. Her weight was more than it should be but we have all seen many others whose weight is much more of a problem. Whenever she would pass you she would cheerfully greet you with a friendly smile. She left for work at 5:30am, would come home mid-afternoon, rest a while and go back to work the evening shift at a car dealership. None of us even knew her last name. It doesn’t matter really. She was a genuinely friendly person. She will be missed.