The Mystery of the Moving Image

by C. S. Poe

  Neil was walking to the front door. Lee got off the floor, said something to him, and followed close behind. Ex-Army did what ex-Army wanted, I supposed.

  Calvin didn’t answer and I got his voicemail.

  “Shit. Shit.” I hung up and tried Quinn next. I started moving down aisles and checking behind displays. “Dillon? Come here, buddy,” I called as the line rang.

  “Hel—”

  “Quinn!” I shouted, cutting her off. “I need to talk to Calvin!”

  “Yeah… then you called the wrong number, didn’t you?” she countered.

  “He wasn’t answering!”

  “He’s on the other line. Working. Stop shouting, Sebastian.”

  “I need you guys at the Emporium.” I got down on the floor when I found Dillon hiding behind a table. I reached out, let him sniff my hand, then gently petted his head. “Someone just shot the place up.”

  “DUDE, NO offense, but today fucking sucks,” Max said.

  “No offense taken.”

  I stood at the counter, assistant on one side of me, dog on the other. Dispatch had sent more cops than I could count, and the dimly lit Emporium was strobing like a rave party from all the cruisers parked outside. Lee was near the pillar, and a uniformed officer was taking his statement. Neil was standing outside on the sidewalk, talking with a few more cops.

  “Someone’s out for you, Seb,” Max muttered after another minute had passed.

  “Figures.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Oh, just, you know. If it’s not some nutcase stalker or vigilante, it’s this.” I held my hands out toward the shop floor. “Whatever this is.” I looked at Max. “What do you think of the possibility of someone trying to sue me for their property being stolen?”

  Max made a face and jutted a thumb over his shoulder. “What, the Kinetoscope?”

  “Yeah.”

  He didn’t seem convinced, but said, “I guess it’s a possibility.”

  “It’s the only one that doesn’t seem too fantastical to be true,” I answered. “The 1890s murder is fascinating, but there was a killing in the alley that takes a bit more precedence.”

  “One of us could be next,” Max said with an audible swallow.

  I cleared my own throat. “Last night, when that fuckface asked for the other movies… maybe there was a second package that was delayed or lost by the delivery company—what? Why’re you smirking?”

  Max leaned forward to rest his elbows on the counter. “You said fuckface.”

  Lee climbed the stairs just then to stand on my left at the counter. “I was told we can’t leave until the lead investigator gets here.”

  “Fantastic,” I muttered. I’d really had all I could stomach of Lee.

  Lee looked at me, away, then back. “What’s wrong with your eyes?”

  “Nothing.” I took off my glasses, set them aside, and tilted my head a bit to try to stop the shaking. “Nystagmus.”

  My dancing-eyes condition was nowhere near as bad as when I was a kid. These days it was hardly noticeable unless I got really stressed out. And I was usually pretty chill, almost to a fault. Although, I could do without Calvin’s ex in my personal space, being a living reminder of everything I wasn’t.

  The cordless phone beside the register rang.

  Max just laughed. “We’re closed,” he said at it.

  I reached for the phone, missed, fumbled, and grabbed it. I put my glasses back on before hitting a button. Among all the cops and chaos surrounding me, I said, “Snow’s Antique Emporium.”

  My ear was immediately filled with Glenn Miller’s “Moonlight Serenade.” I could hear someone mutter and the handset of a phone get jumbled around.

  “Ah—hello? Hello? My name’s James Robert. Can you hear me now?”

  “Er—yes, sir. How can I help you?”

  “I’m looking for the owner,” he said, a bit too loudly, and I had to pull the phone back.

  “That’s me. Sebastian Snow.”

  “Did you get my package?” he asked next, barely letting a breath settle between introductions and the heart of the matter.

  “Excuse me?”

  “My package, boy!”

  All right, Jim Bob. No one but my pop gets to refer to me as a kid.

  “Would you mind being a bit more precise, Mr. Robert?”

  “The Kinetoscope!”

  I felt my heart beat a little faster. “You’re—wait, you’re the owner of the Kinetoscope?”

  “Seb,” Max murmured, nudging my arm.

  “Hold on,” I hissed. “Sir, it’s sort of difficult for me to talk at the moment—”

  “That’s all right,” he answered. “I have more tin cans to show you.”

  “Tin—film reels?” I asked.

  I could hear someone to my left crunching through glass strewn across the floor.

  “It’d be easier on an old man if you came to my apartment.”

  “Okay… uh… today?”

  “I’m ancient. I sure as fuck ain’t got faith in tomorrows.”

  He started reciting an address, and I dived for the nearest writing implement. I grabbed a marker, yanked the top off, and looked around for something to write on, before I began scribbling on the back of my hand.

  “Building’s got a red door.”

  “Red door,” I repeated, like that meant something to me.

  Max nudged me hard in the ribs.

  I ignored him. “I’ll be there as soon as I can, Mr. Robert.”

  “See you, kid.” There were a few obnoxiously loud beeps in my ear before he figured out how to end the call.

  I set the phone down, planted both hands on the counter, and looked at Max. “What?”

  He stared at me while pointing at the opposite side of the counter.

  I followed his motion and saw none other than Calvin. Relief flooded every muscle in my body, nearly causing my knees to buckle. “Cal.” I moved around Max and went down the opposite set of stairs from Lee.

  Calvin had that expression I didn’t like—the one I’d be only too happy to never see again for the rest of my life. Jaw clenched too tight, lines in his face a bit too pronounced, his pretty, crystalline gray eyes murky, like river water after a storm.

  “Hey.” I reached out and gave his hand a squeeze.

  Calvin sighed. It was such a gentle sound—I could nearly hear the heartbreak in it. As if he’d truly been expecting the worst upon entering the shop. His sigh pierced my skin, cracked bone, and impaled my heart as if it were all no stronger than the flesh of an apple.

  “Hey,” he said in return, voice a bit gruff. He gripped my fingers tight and raked his free hand through his hair. “Everyone’s okay? No one needs to see an EMT?”

  “We’re fine,” I insisted.

  He nodded. Calvin looked up at Max and panned to Lee. “What’re you doing here?” he asked, a bit of surprise betraying the authoritative cop tone he put back on.

  “Hoping to leave,” Lee replied with a small chuckle. “Are you the lead investigator we’re waiting on?”

  “Did you give a statement yet?”

  “Of course.”

  Calvin let go of my hand and flagged a uniformed officer over. “Mr. Straus is good. Arrange to have him driven home.”

  The cop motioned for Lee to follow. “Right this way, sir.”

  Lee glanced at the three of us before letting his shoulders drop a bit. “Stay safe, Mr. Snow. It sounds as though you’ve stuck to someone like a tick and they’re trying to burn you off.”

  “How kind of you,” I said.

  “Max,” Calvin ordered next as Lee headed toward the door.

  I turned and patted Max’s shoulder as he stepped down to my side. “I’ll call you.”

  He surprised me with a back-breaking hug. “Don’t get yourself killed, boss.”

  “Me?” I managed to wheeze. “Never.”

  Max reluctantly let go. He walked toward the door and followed an officer outside.

  Ca
lvin looked at me. “Let’s go.”

  He wasn’t going to get a single complaint out of me.

  I went into the office, switched to sunglasses, collected my bag and Dillon’s leash, then returned to the register. I picked up the dog and followed Calvin across the glass-strewn floor. The May sun was blinding when we stepped outside. I looked down at the ground, following close behind Calvin’s steps as he led the way down the block. I nearly gave him a flat tire when he stopped abruptly.

  “—Completely different MO than yesterday.” That was Neil’s voice.

  I set Dillon down on the sidewalk and shielded my eyes as I looked up. Neil stopped talking and turned to look at me and Calvin. Quinn stood beside him, rolling an unlit cigarillo between two fingers.

  “The murder and shooting are related,” I said.

  Neil’s gaze shifted to Calvin and he remained silent.

  I looked at Calvin too.

  “Let me find a black-and-white to drive you—” he started.

  “That seems more plausible to me than two completely unrelated incidents taking place less than a day apart at the same location,” I started.

  “But there’s no evidence they’re related,” Neil answered.

  “Sure there is,” I replied. “We know there’s at least two people involved.”

  “One’s dead,” Quinn pointed out.

  “When someone kills with a knife, it’s up close and personal,” Calvin added. “The mindset is different from standing outside the Emporium and shooting through the windows.”

  “So maybe there are three people involved,” I answered. “One is dead, one prefers knives, the third a gun.”

  The three detectives stared at me, and let me tell you, even having done absolutely nothing wrong, it was unnerving when their expressions were all for you.

  “No?” I asked at length.

  Neil shook his head.

  “Highly improbable,” Calvin answered.

  “Sebastian may be onto something, though,” Quinn said. “Not three suspects, but that the events are indeed related.” She looked up at Calvin. “We know whoever killed John Doe doesn’t have a weak stomach. And how easy would it have been to do the same to Sebastian last night?”

  I swallowed the distinct taste of bile trying to come up my throat, and caught Neil looking at me. I squared my shoulders and said nothing.

  “But it sounds like they want more from Sebastian,” Quinn continued. “And that they’re convinced these movies must be obtained through him. Shooting up the Emporium may in fact be dangerous escalation—scaring him into cooperating, perhaps.”

  “Except I don’t have any other movies,” I pointed out.

  Quinn shook her head. “They might not be aware of that fact.”

  “Why is this footage so valuable to the suspect?” Neil asked. “Was it dipped in gold?”

  “Blood is more likely,” I answered. “The way I see it, if we want to follow the clues in a conservative manner, this has a money-making scheme written all over it. And the poor kid in the dumpster may be nothing more than the victim of a greedy partner unwilling to share whatever cash the Kinetoscope owner tries to hold me accountable for. But if you’re willing to suspend your belief a bit, my assailant, who we suspect may also be the murderer, came after me to steal the second portion of the footage that had a century-old killing on it. It had nothing to do with the Leonard-Cushing boxing match. So what if there is a connection between the past and the extremely shitty events happening right now?”

  Neil rubbed his forehead like he had a headache, then made a gesture at Calvin. “He’s all yours.”

  I gave him an annoyed look. “Pig heart, Neil.”

  Calvin put a thumb and finger to his mouth, whistled loudly, and waved at what I guessed was a patrol car parked across the street. He turned to face me. “I’ll make sure the Emporium is taken care of.”

  “If you believe I’m not going to research this, you think far higher of me than you ought to,” I replied.

  “Research to your heart’s content,” Calvin said. The patrol car pulled up to the curb behind him. He took me into his arms and hugged me tight. “Just do it from your father’s couch.”

  “KIDDO!” WILLIAM Snow exclaimed as he opened the door to see me hiking the stairs to his apartment.

  “Hey, Pop,” I replied. I gave him a hug in the doorway. My police escort had made certain this time that I got inside safely, and without an attacker on my heels.

  “What’re you doing here?” He stepped aside and let me enter the home.

  “I’ve had a long day,” I answered, crouching to unclasp Dillon’s leash. He immediately ran to Maggie, both wagging tails and sniffing butts.

  Pop was consulting his watch as he shut the door. “It’s not quite noon.”

  My shoulders drooped. “Fuck.”

  He came up behind me, took my shoulder, spun me around, then started patting my hair down. “You’re a grown man, Sebastian. Comb your hair.”

  “I was recently rolling on the floor.”

  “I can see that. Don’t let Calvin suck your neck.”

  “What? No. No—I was on the floor with Neil. I mean—not…. Can I have a beer?”

  Pop took a step back and gave me The Look. “Not at 11:45.”

  I pulled my messenger bag off my shoulder and set it on the back of the couch. I walked to the table near the windows. The blinds were drawn—the home always dim and welcoming as if Pop could just sense I was dropping by. I collapsed into a chair and pulled my sunglasses back to rest on my head. Pop joined me a moment later. He put his hands on the back of a chair beside me but remained standing.

  I glanced up at his detailless, blurry figure.

  “Oh, Sebastian….”

  “How?” I protested. “How do you know without me having said anything?”

  “I’m your father.”

  “Does that mean you were bestowed clairvoyance upon the auspicious day of my birth?”

  “Despite having a detective and sleuth in the family, I don’t have to be either to know when something’s wrong.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “And when it comes to you, kiddo….”

  “I know.” I leaned back in the chair.

  “Are you in trouble?” Pop asked.

  I slipped the sunglasses down again so I could actually see Pop’s expression. “Everything will be okay. Calvin’s on the case.”

  “Sebastian.”

  “Someone broke into the Emporium yesterday and ended up dead in the alley.”

  His eyes grew wide. “Oh my God.”

  I stood, stepped toward him, and put my hands on Pop’s shoulders. “I’m fine, though.” No way in hell could I or would I tell Pop the full story. I was not looking to put my father into an early grave.

  Pop was quiet for a moment. He reached up and put his hand over mine, giving it a squeeze. “I’m going to make us some tea.”

  Yuck.

  He stepped back and wandered into the kitchen. I lazily followed. Pop was filling a kettle with tap water when I joined him at the long counter space. “How’s Neil involved in all of this?”

  “CSU has less than fifty detectives working all the boroughs, Dad. He was bound to end up on Calvin’s cases sooner or later.”

  Pop put the kettle on the stovetop and gave me a brief look.

  “I hit Neil with a door yesterday.”

  He quickly put a hand over his mouth, and I realized after a moment that he was suppressing a laugh. “Is he okay?”

  “Actually, I don’t know. He was almost pleasant today. I could practically stand him. I might have knocked something loose.”

  “Sometimes you’ll never love someone, kiddo. But when you stop forcing it, you might end up liking them instead.” Pop took some mugs from the cupboard and dropped a tea bag into each. “Maybe that’s all your relationship was meant to be.” He looked at me again. “Friends.”

  “Let’s not get carried away.” I turned, opened the cupboard in front of me,
and moved aside cereal and granola bar boxes, hunting for my dad’s candy stash.

  “With all of this happening, have you boys even gotten to enjoy the new apartment?”

  “Not really.” I shut the cupboard and tried the next one. “Pop?”

  “Hmm?” He reached out, closed the cupboard I was pawing through, then opened a drawer, revealing bags of hard candies and taffy.

  “Thanks.”

  “Pop, what?” he prompted.

  I glanced up from spinning the wax paper. I pulled the single piece of taffy free while mulling over my choice of words. “Never mind.” I put the candy in my mouth.

  Pop reached out and patted my cheek. “What’s on your mind?”

  I laughed because, Jesus Christ, was that a loaded question. I started folding the paper into a tight wad. “I should double-check the mail forwarding because I haven’t gotten even a single preapproved credit card at the new apartment. I hate the Emporium’s new landlord—I’m still waiting for him to cash the rent check. Did I turn off the kitchen light before leaving the house this morning? Was that recently acquired ambrotype photograph of a boy in a tartan hand-tinted? I’ll have to ask Max because I can’t see color. I should start working out, except I hate strenuous activity. I do like sex, though. I’m probably the worst lay Calvin’s ever had.”

  “Whoa, whoa,” Pop said, quickly putting his hands up.

  But there was no stopping it. Just all at once, everything that’d been pent up for weeks—months. Fucking decades—just came out like a tidal wave.

  “I’m such a hypocrite,” I continued, feeling hot tears pour down my cheeks. “Demanding Calvin be honest with me and I can’t even tell him what I’m thinking. I lie and make some smart-ass comment to hide every single insecurity I have, because if he had any idea, God knows he would have never gotten involved.”

  “Sebastian,” Pop tried.

  “But I can’t fucking hide it anymore. Even Neil’s noticed. I’m not as brave as I pretend to be. Last night—last night I was so scared. I wanted Calvin to come home and hold me, and I told Neil, oh no, I’m okay. Just a little itty-bitty moment of weakness!

  “I’m lame in the sack. No matter how hard I try, I know I’m not sexy. I know I sound stupid and look stupid, and Calvin’s just being polite. I wore red and green yesterday. I met Calvin’s ex, and he’s stylish and handsome and—and I just love Calvin so much!” I wrapped my arms around Pop’s neck and sobbed out every single dark and bitter emotion I had in my heart. “I feel like it’s only a matter of time before our relationship ends like the rest of mine have.”