“Mr. Snow?” the first cop asked.
“Ah… it looks okay,” I answered. I made for the counter, walked up the steps, and checked my office door. Still locked. I opened it and glanced inside. Computer, fridge, coffeepot, shitty little microwave….
I shut the door again.
“Seb?” Calvin asked.
I turned on the bank lamp beside the register. “I guess everything is fine,” I answered. I sat down on the stool as Calvin spoke with the police before they took their leave. He shut and locked the back door behind them. “What do you think?” I asked from across the shop.
“The alarm did its job and you’re damn lucky.” He walked across the showroom toward me.
“Something doesn’t feel right.”
“Your business has been violated. That’s to be expected,” Calvin answered. He hooked his thumbs through the belt loops of his jeans as he stopped before the counter. “I can install a dead bolt if you’d like.”
I stood up again and walked down the steps. “I guess that’s—” I paused and pointed. “What happened to the Kinetoscope?”
Calvin turned around to follow my line of sight. “What about it?”
“Why’s the cabinet open?” I marched past him and went to the movie viewer. The side door of the machine was ajar. I bent down and noticed a bit of celluloid hanging from the opening. I yanked the door back the rest of the way and made a sound that was probably akin to a dying animal.
“Sebastian?” Calvin asked worriedly, quickly coming up behind me.
Only a portion of the film was still installed in the case, closer to the front end where it passed by the backlighting bulb. It was as if someone had reached inside, grabbed the film strip, and in their rush to get out, wrenched a portion of it free. It tore the footage in two, leaving what remained to slowly become unspooled and peek out from the opened door.
“Ohfuck!” I shouted, heart hammering in my chest. “Oh my God. Oh my God.”
“Baby—”
“Someone stole, like… twenty seconds, of my Leonard-Cushing fight!” I was practically screaming.
“Sebastian,” Calvin tried again.
“Maybe twenty-five seconds!”NowI was screaming.
Calvin grabbed my shoulders. “Calm down.”
“The film isn’t mine! And now it’s destroyed! I’m so fucked!”
“This is why you have business insurance,” Calvin said. “Sebastian. Take a breath.”
I took one, but I wasn’t happy about it.
“Let’s take some photos and file a police report,” Calvin continued. “So when you finally get in touch with the owner, you’ll have proven this wasn’t mishandling or negligence on your part. Okay?”
I gritted my teeth and nodded.
I really hoped this spectacularly shitty start to the day wasn’t a sign of things to come.
Chapter Four
“BACON ORsausage?”
“Bacon,” I muttered.
“Cappuccino or house brew?”
“House.”
