“Thank you for calling Barnes Brothers Shipping. Have a good night.”
Click.
Son of a bitch.
Max returned from tossing the garbage into the alley dumpster. He shut the back door and made his way toward the counter. “Get the owner’s name?”
“No,” I grumbled.
“So what do we do with the Kinetoscope?”
“Keep it until the owner contacts me themselves. Let’s move it behind the counter tomorrow, okay?”
“Sure thing.” Max glanced at the nearby wall clock and asked, “Do you need anything else?”
“No, you can get going. Thanks, Max.”
“Have a good night,” he called before exiting the front door.
I turned off the shop speakers, powered down my computer in the office, grabbed my shoulder bag, and shut the door. I left the bag on the counter, picked up a pair of gloves, walked to the Kinetoscope, and opened the cabinet. I crouched down and was weighing whether I wanted to unspool the hundred feet of film or keep it assembled, when the front door opened.
“We’re closed!” I called.
“That you, Snow?”
I perked up a little and peered over the table blocking me from view. “Pete?”
Short and stocky, middle-aged, with a thick, bushy beard, and polo shirt with the collar turned up like a frat boy, Pete White waved. “Hey!” He walked down the aisle toward me.
“Did you get my message?” I asked, returning my attention to the film.
“Hmm… I don’t think so. When did you leave it?”
“About three hours after you were supposed to be here,” I replied flippantly.
“I’ve been having trouble with this phone. It’s old.”
“Get a new one,” I muttered.
“Holy cow,” Pete said from behind me. He gasped almost comically. “Is that aKinetoscope?”
I looked over my shoulder again. He was gazing down at me from the other side of the table. “Yes,” I answered.
“Is it a replica?”
“Original,” I corrected.
“Andwith footage?”
“It’s the knockout round of the Leonard-Cushing fight.”
“Gol-ly,” he whispered, his eyes wide.
“Golly?” I repeated, raising an eyebrow. “You auditioning for a reboot ofLeave It to Beaver?”
Pete finally pried his gaze from the Kinetoscope and looked at me. “You shouldn’t swear in the presence of someone you like, Snow,” he answered.
Oh Jesus. This suddenly brought legitimacy to Max’s claim that Greg might have slept with Pete to have gotten his shit organized at the fair before me. “Like… as a person…?”
