Hellhouse Tales # 7. The Strange case of Rich Bill

Hellhouse Tales # 7. The Strange case of Rich Bill

I remember the first time I met Rich Bill.
We were, as usual, sitting around the kitchen table wishing we had beer. That was one of the two general states at the Hellhouse, drinking beer, or wishing we had beer. This particular afternoon was a transition state, as we were about to go to the liquor store, and were waiting for Dave to get dressed.
There was a voice in the Hall.
"Knock Knock! ... Yo!"  said the voice
"In here" Klutch said.
The voices' owner appeared, holding a six pack of Anchor Steam, our favorite beer.
"Hey," he said, "I brought my bike in to the hall, I just got it and kinda don't want to leave it outside."
"What kinda bike?" I asked.
I was a bike messenger, and a bike mechanic, so these things genuinely interested me.
"Come check it out." he said, setting the beer on the table.
We walked into the hall, and there leaning against the wall was one of the sleekest looking race bikes I had ever seen. I was struck by the thinness of the frame.
"Carbon fiber" he said, running a finger down the center tube, "the rims are aircraft aluminum, most of the hardware is titanium alloy. Pretty sweet!"
I agreed, "Pretty sweet."
We went back into the kitchen and grabbed a couple beers. Dave came in, and Bill handed him a beer, "Hey man" he said.
"Hey," Dave said, "Thanks"
That was, as far as I know, when I first met Rich Bill.
Bill settled into a chair. "So, party tonight?"
We were in fact, going to a party that evening, and assumed that, the party in question, was in fact, the party in question.
It turned out he was going as well, and said he would come back after his ride and go with us.
His name wasn't really Rich Bill, That was just our nick-name for him because he seemed to be rich.
He would come around, usually bring beer, shoot the breeze, and show off some new super expensive gadget he had recently acquired. I say show off, but it was more sharing. He was a geniunely nice guy, and well, he always brought beer.
I started seeing him at all the parties. Usually with some exotic expensive booze, some cool gadget, and tales of adventure.  Once he showed up to play ultimate, and even had his own custom Frisbee. Seemed everybody was friends with rich bill.
 One afternoon, again he came by, brought beer, shot the breeze, and then left, promising to return to accompany us to another Party that evening.
Clutch, Dave and I sat at the kitchen table finishing the beer.
"So, " I asked Dave, "how do you know Rich Bill?"
Dave stared at me, "What do you mean?"
"I mean, originally, is he one of your Colorado buddies?"
Dave looked at me like I was crazy. "I met him through you, he's your friend.."
That made no sense. "He's not my friend. I never saw him before that day he showed up with his new bike. I assumed he was a friend of yours..."
We both looked at clutch, who just shook his head. "I thought you guys knew him..."
We started going through our interactions with him, trying to figure a common thread.
We couldn't find any.
Like I had said, I never saw him before he showed up on his bike. But, he was carrying our favorite beer, asking about a party we were going to. The assumption was that he must be friends with someone we knew, and we each assumed it was each other.
We started making phone calls, but everywhere, it was the same,
"I thought he was a friend of yours..."
Turned out nobody knew Rich Bill.
We began listing the things we knew about him.
It was a short list.
Once you eliminated all the things that we thought we knew, which turned out to be assumptions,
The only thing we could honestly say about Rich Bill was that he seemed to be able to afford, or at least aquire, expensive things., and that he seemed to know, maybe a bit too much about our comings and goings.
I remember I once asked him what he did for a living, and he started giving me a vague non-answer, only to then direct the conversation to something else.
That seems to be the case with the other guys as well.
The only thing we really knew was that we had some questions for him.
We waited for him to show up at the Hellhouse that evening to go with us to the party.
But he didn't show up.
We went to the party, assuming he would be there.
But, again, he never showed up.
In fact, we never saw him again, and to the best of my knowledge, neither did any of our friends.
He vanished as mysteriously as he arrived.
leaving behind only questions,
and empty beer bottles.