So it was definitely the footage they wanted. I supposed the owner could argue the historical value alone made it priceless, but it just seemed like an odd way to try to suck my wallet dry.
I glared harder at the Kinetoscope.
It did nothing in return.
“I figured out what you should get Calvin for his birthday,” Max muttered, suddenly hovering beside me.
I jumped, spilled coffee, and spun. “Jesus. Don’t sneak up on me like that!” I wiped my hand on my jeans.
“I had to break you out of that obsessive zone you get into.” He pointed to his own forehead. “You’ve got that thinking-too-hard crease between your eyes.”
I rubbed at my forehead, like the wrinkle was a stain I could wipe away. “What were you saying?”
“Birthday gift for Tall, Pale, and Ginger.”
“And what’s that?”
“Concealer.”
“Conceal—huh?”
Max pointed at my neck. “To hide thatwicked hickeyhe gave you.”
“Make yourself useful. Go dust something.” I turned back to the Kinetoscope.
Max left when the bell over the front door chimed. He welcomed the customer to the Emporium, and I stopped listening.
I’d have to call the shipping company again. As much as I wanted to believe a murder long-since past was what this all revolved around, solving it seemed about as likely as obtaining the little golden key had been for Alice after she shrank to only ten inches high. So I’d mostly focus on the present and help Calvin obtain a name to put to the Kinetoscope. I just hoped I didn’t get Cindy on the phone again.
I crouched down in front of the Kinetoscope and leaned close. “Shit.” I’d gotten coffee on the wood finish. I set the cup on the floor and wiped the base with the sleeve of my sweater.
My idea to visit the Moving Image museum wouldn’t be of any real use to Calvin. It was mostly to satisfy my own curiosity about the footage and to gather historical facts about the Kinetoscope. Despite not having the film on hand to show curators, I hoped there was still an opportunity to gleansomethingof mild interest relating to the boxing match. Or the murder.
You know. Either-or.
Believe it or not, I was quite happy with my recently acquired domestic setup. I wasn’t looking to set my life on fire. But… at the same time, this was a mysterywithina mystery. If Calvin was taking care of today’s murder, then who else was there to look into the one of another era but me? Even if I never got to the bottom of the long-ago death, I couldn’t just ignore it indefinitely. Once upon a time, that victim had been someone. He had a story. And as a researcher, historian, and recovering sleuth, it was my job to share that story so he wasn’t forgotten.
Near the base of the cabinet, where I’d been wiping the wood, a corner piece suddenly shifted.
“Oh no.” I reached back, pulled my magnifying glass from my pocket, and got on my hands and knees to inspect the possible damage. “Don’t you dare be broken,” I said in a threatening tone. I touched the wood, and it gave way a bit more. I sat back on my knees quickly. “Max!”
“Boss,” he answered from somewhere near the front displays.
“Come here.”
“Ah, you should probably come here first.”
Immediately, all I could imagine was my assailant inside, with a weapon, threatening Max. I jumped to my feet, turned, and saw a man with him near the door. The spike of adrenaline took a second to ease upon recognition.
I walked toward Max and patted his shoulder. “It’s okay.”
He looked at me like I was crazy. “You sure?”
“Yeah.” I stared at Neil. When Max took an exit, I said, “Hey.”
“Morning.”
“If you’ve come for more of my clothes, take a hike.”
