Frames Per Second

by Bill Eidson

  “And then what?”

  Ben shrugged. “And then we’ll see. You’ll be happy to know that I lost my job at Insider. So I’d have to go out and find a paper to peddle any of my shots right about now.”

  “So you’ll keep my secret?” the senator said, incredulously. “You’re not going to publish it?”

  “It’s not mine to sell,” Ben said. “Besides, I’m more interested in finding out if this had anything to do with Peter’s death than spilling your little affair.”

  “Come on,” the senator said, putting his hand out defensively. “I told you before, I’ve got nothing to do with that. He was killed weeks before I even heard from the blackmailer.”

  “That’s a good point,” Ben said. “And everything I’ve seen heads in another direction, anyhow. But if it turns out you do … well, then I’ll be standing at the prison gates with my camera, ready to immortalize Senator Cheever’s first day in hell.”

  CHAPTER 27

  BEN WAITED IN THE VAN FOR HUEY, THE PHOTO LAB TECH. IT DIDN’T take long: Huey was consistent about his tuna on rye with cheese and bacon. At twelve-thirty, he left the building and started down Boylston Street.

  Huey marched along quickly, his shoulders hunched, but his head swiveling from side to side. At lunch hour there were a lot of young women passing by—secretaries, executives. Many of them good-looking, stylish.

  Few of them escaped Huey’s scrutiny.

  Ben sped a half block ahead and parked. He got out and waited for Huey at the door of the sub shop.

  Huey almost bumped into him, so engrossed in trying to look down the blouse of a young woman who was bending over tying her black Labrador’s leash to a parking meter.

  “Careful, Huey,” Ben said. “The dog knows what you’re doing.”

  The girl looked at the two of them and Huey’s face flushed. He tried to step around Ben, but Ben simply backed up. Huey said, “Frigging snoop. Where the hell did you come from?”

  “Just drove up. Thought I’d buy my old buddy lunch.”

  Suspicion darkened Huey’s face. “Why? You want kiss up to somebody, go pucker up to your ex-wife. Maybe she’ll get you your job back.”

  “That’s valuable career advice, Huey. But I had something a little more specific in mind.”

  Suspicion turned to full-blown worry on Huey’s face. Late one night, Ben had stopped back at the office to find Huey rolling a hand truck stacked with boxes of chemicals and photographic paper to his car. Huey had actually shed tears pleading for Ben to keep it quiet, telling a sad tale about how a hooker had cleaned him out and he needed the money to make rent that month.

  Ben had finally relented by overseeing the return of the stolen goods and had driven Huey out to a photo supply house in Belmont to observe him buy a month’s worth of photographic consumables out of his own pocket. At the time, Huey had complained bitterly that he was spending far more than he’d ever taken. And he had clearly resented the spot checks Ben had taken on him from time to time.

  Yet they both knew that Kurt would’ve fired Huey if he’d ever known.

  “I haven’t got time for this shit,” Huey said, trying to push past Ben into the sub shop.

  “You will if I have to call Kurt.” Ben eased himself in front of the shorter man. “Then you’ll have lots of time to sit around with me and swap job leads.”

  Huey gave a little shrug. “So talk. What do you want?”

  Ben smiled at him. “Let me buy you that sub first.” He held the door open and told Huey he could order anything he wanted, as long as it didn’t come to more than five bucks.

  They drove down to the waterfront in Ben’s van and parked facing the bay. Huey ate quickly, looking at Ben with his suspicion no less assuaged. But when he finished his sub, he looked calmer. He said, “I gotta get back soon or my ass’ll be fried.”

  Ben took Huey’s paper bag, stuffed it into his own, and tossed the ball into a trash can near the window. “Two points,” he said, and then turned his attention fully on Huey. “Tell me about the frame none of us ever saw.”

  Huey’s eyes narrowed. “What?”

  “Of Peter’s shots. There was one frame missing.” Ben was disappointed to see Huey look relieved.

  “I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

  Ben stared at him.

  “Really, I don’t.” Huey looked damned near happy. “Shit, I thought you were going to hold me up because of that other thing … you know, hold me up for some of my paycheck or something.”

  Abruptly, Huey looked worried. Apparently afraid he might have given Ben a bad idea.

  “Did you do the printing and processing of both of Peter’s rolls yourself?” Ben asked.

  Huey snorted. “The police have been through this, man. I didn’t touch your bag.’’

  “I didn’t ask about the bag, I asked about processing the film.”

  “Yeah, but I thought you were interested in the bag. Because when Peter came in, he didn’t even know how to get the film out of the camera. This is after the Cheever shoot. He did McGuire the next day.”

  “Did he say anything about seeing any other photographers on either McGuire or Cheever?”

  Huey shook his head. “We didn’t have long chats, me and Gallagher. I guess I wasn’t his favorite guy. You two Girl Scouts must’ve whispered about my money problems.”

  “No, that was between me and you. He probably just didn’t like you because of your personality.”

  Huey worked his teeth with his tongue, apparently trying to dislodge some of the sub. “Whatever,” he said, finally. “Peter was just pissed with himself and said he didn’t know why he went through so many pictures so fast. I reset the motor drive onto single frame for him and started to show him how it worked, but he just took the camera and walked away. High and mighty prick.”

  Ben could imagine it. Huey wouldn’t have been able to “just show” Peter anything. Huey would’ve been cackling over such a mistake.

  “So you processed the roll right then?”

  “No, he had me wait until the next day when he came in with the shots of McGuire and had me print all of them up at the same time as five by sevens instead of contact sheets.”

  “So it was just the two rolls?”

  “That’s right.”

  “And you did all the shots on each? All thirty-six?”

  “All thirty-six,” Huey said.

  “Sure you didn’t miss any? No last frame squeezed on, no thirty-seventh shot?”

  Huey looked affronted. “Hey, I know my job. Every frigging frame got a print. That’s what the man asked for, and that’s what he got.”

  “After that, who got prints?”

  “Everybody who asked.” Huey sighed. “Pain in the ass. Everybody came one at a time, goddamn inconsiderate of my time.”

  “So who?”

  Huey tugged at his lip. “First Peter, who gave his set to Kurt. Then you, Lucien, and your girlfriend, Sarah. She wanted two sets, one for the cops.”

  Ben raised his eyebrows. “My girlfriend?”

  Huey made a pumping gesture with his right arm. “I’m not sure how far you’ve gotten, but I’ve seen the looks between you two.”

  “Who would’ve known you were so observant.”

  “Oh, yeah. I keep my eyes open. Let’s head back, all right? I told you everything I can.”

  Ben started the van and drove slowly back. Thinking about those sets. Kurt, Lucien, him, and Sarah. Kurt showed his set at the meeting, and Ben remembered Sarah asking him not long afterwards how she could get her own. He had sent her off in Huey’s direction.

  Ben said, “When did Lucien ask for his prints?”

  The little man grunted. He had come up with a toothpick from somewhere and Ben waited impatiently until he was ready to talk. Finally, Huey said, “You know, I don’t know why you’re so frigging curious about this film. But it’s got to be worth more than a lousy sub.”

  “Just a phone call to Kurt,” Ben reminded him.
“That’s all you’ve got to know.”

  “Ah, I’ve been thinking about that. You’re not that type of guy. I am, but you’re not.” He snapped his fingers. “Come on, twenty bucks. I’ll put it on the dogs, see if I can make it grow.”

  Ben couldn’t help but smile. He picked up his wallet from the dashboard and gave Huey a twenty.

  The little man said, “You know that shit, Lucien. Acts like a friendly puppy dog, but he’s just like anybody else, always looking to get an edge. He asked for a set of everything Peter had going the day before the editorial meeting.”

  “And you just gave it all to him?”

  Huey looked at Ben as if he were stupid. “You thinking selling chemicals and paper is the only way to make an extra buck?”

  CHAPTER 28

  BEN CALLED SARAH FROM HIS CELL PHONE.

  When she answered, he said, “Hey, it’s me.”

  “Hello, me.” She lowered her voice. “Calling to say it was all a big mistake but we can still be friends?”

  “Nah. Friends don’t get to have that kind of fun. Look, I just had lunch with Huey.”

  “I’ll try not to feel shattered,” she said. But he could hear the change in her tone. She recognized business when she heard it. “What’s up?”

  “He’s been paid—don’t let him tell you otherwise—to hand you two developed film strips. Peter’s shots of Cheever and McGuire. Go meet Huey at the stairway and follow him into the lab and see that he gives it to you without trying to cut any of it.’’

  “Cheever is Lucien’s show. Should I get him in on this?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  She hesitated and then said, “All right. I better go.”

  “I’ll meet you across the street,” he said. “And try to find out where Lucien is right now.”

  “Got it.” She hung up.

  * * *

  She slid into the passenger seat about fifteen minutes later, looking fantastic in a simple black skirt, black stockings, and a tailored white blouse.

  He grinned. “Get over here, you.”

  She kissed him swiftly. “I’ve wanting to do that all morning,” she said, flushing. “You’re getting in the way of my work.” She held out a manila envelope. “Nasty little man, that Huey. What’s this about?”

  “Hold on a second.” He took the envelope from her and pulled out the dozen negative strips and matched the numbers of each frame against the contact sheet Huey had enclosed. He did the same with the roll of McGuire’s set just to be sure. They all matched. There were no unaccounted shots within each roll of thirty-six shots, and none of them showed the senator embracing Teri Wheeler. And there was sufficient blank leader and ending film still attached for Ben to feel confident an extra shot hadn’t been squeezed on and then clipped away later.

  “Huh.” He sat back.

  “Huh, what? Is this about Peter?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Tell me what you do.”

  Ben hesitated. He needed her, he was falling for her … and she was a reporter.

  He said, “I promised somebody I’d look into something.”

  She stared at him, before nodding toward the negatives. “Whoever you’re working for, the subject is Cheever, right?” she said. “You looked most closely at his roll. You were matching the sheet up with the negs. Is there a shot missing?”

  He shook his head. “It looks like there’s not. But there should be. Or else there was another photographer taking shots the same time Peter was. Either way …”

  He hesitated.

  “What?”

  “There may be a problem at Insider.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean there may be a blackmail problem.”

  She hesitated. “And that’s why you want to know where Lucien is?”

  “That’s right.”

  They stared at each other.

  “So what do you want from me?” Her voice was remote.

  “Work with me,” he said. “Let’s find out what this whole story is about, not just the piece I know about Cheever. Let’s take it all the way.”

  “And?”

  “And let me be the arbiter of what goes to Kurt and everyone else.”

  “Oh, that’s all. You’re not asking for much.” She closed her eyes briefly and then looked at him directly. “Meaning it’s possible you might ask me to bury something I’d otherwise run with.”

  “Entirely possible,” he said.

  “If it has to do with Peter, I won’t,” she said. “I want to be with you, but I won’t bury anything that had to do with him getting killed.”

  “I’d never ask you to.”

  She looked at him carefully. The same somber gaze as her daughter’s the night before. Finally, she said, “All right.”

  Ben told her about Senator Cheever.

  He showed her the photograph of the senator and Teri Wheeler.

  “Mmmm,” Sarah said. “So either Peter got this shot on another roll and didn’t tell anyone—or else someone was nearby taking pictures at the same time. Couldn’t it have been taken another time altogether?”

  “It’s possible, but unlikely. Cheever and Wheeler are wearing the same clothes, the lighting is the same.”

  “So someone must’ve followed Peter.” She looked at the picture carefully. “It’s fairly clean by today’s scandal standards. But devastating to the wife who trusts him.” She looked at Ben. “And Cheever convinced you that’s his primary concern?”

  “That and the damage to his political career.”

  “You remind him we’ve elected and reelected presidents with who’ve done a lot worse than this?”

  “He seems to know his own political realities. But this seriously impedes on his self-image, and I think that’s important to him.”

  “But not enough to come clean.”

  Ben shrugged. “He’ll get away with it if he can. But he’s balking at blackmail.”

  “I guess that’s what passes for morality in a politician these days. So what’s next?”

  Ben told her about Lucien paying Huey for an early set of all of Peter’s photographs. “Huey says Lucien’s puppy-dog bit is just an act.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “Lucien is ambitious. I got that loud and clear in the first ten minutes. Dresses really well, drives a new Saab Turbo … but he’s not a very good writer. Sloppy with his facts, weak research. I haven’t been around him long enough to see how well he handles himself in interviews …”

  “Not very well,” Ben said, thinking of the interviews with Goodhue and with Cheever. “Lucien folds too easily.”

  “So—ambitious, incompetent, and money to burn.”

  “And assigned to Cheever’s case.”

  “But if he got prints of just this roll, then he has no more than the rest of us.”

  “True. But he was always hounding Peter for leads. And it sounded like Peter was onto something new when he was coming to pick me up. So maybe Lucien followed him the night of the Cheever surveillance and got this shot.” Ben thought back to the “covering” pictures Lucien had taken when Ben had walked into the barn during Johansen’s standoff. They were well-framed and focused. Lucien clearly had some photography experience.

  “I’ll take him on.” Sarah tossed her hair back with mocking seductiveness that still managed to make Ben feel a bit short of breath. “Maybe he’ll take pity on a new hire and share some of his wisdom. We can start prying from there.’’

  “That’d work on me,” Ben said.

  She leaned over to kiss him again. “I know.”

  CHAPTER 29

  AFTER SARAH WENT BACK UP TO THE OFFICE, BEN CHECKED HIS watch. Just after two.

  He sighed, knowing what he should do, but wishing he had an excuse, an out. There were plenty of other things he should be doing. Not the least of which was getting back onto Jimbo McGuire.

  But he made the call to Andi anyhow.

  She answered on the third ring and when she recognized his voice s
he fell silent.

  “Andi?”

  “You and Kurt have discussed everything we need to discuss,” she said.

  “For God’s sake, Andi, you know me. You think everything that happened that night came entirely from my side of the court?”

  “You were standing over him and he was bleeding. Are you suggesting that’s not what I saw?”

  “I’m suggesting it’s not that simple. And I’d like to sit down and talk with you about it.”

  “No. Kurt and I have made our decision. We’re not pressing charges, but we want you away from us. We want a chance for our new family.”

  “Andi, I’m not just going to fade away. You know me. You know you’re in no danger from me. You know the kids aren’t either.”

  “So it’s just my husband who’ll get hurt?”

  “Assuming he doesn’t punch me anymore, I’ll be sure not to return the favor.”

  “You’re saying he hit you. Kurt?” Ben could read uncertainty behind her skepticism. Or at least he felt he could.

  Ben sat back in his van seat. “He never acknowledged that?”

  She hesitated.

  “How about Jake?”

  She sighed. “He’s keeping a lot to himself these days. Bottled up worse than ever.”

  Ben waited. He avoided the temptation to fill the silence with words.

  “All right,” she said, finally. “Both the kids are out with friends this afternoon. Come over now, let’s see if we can hammer out some semblance of sanity between us.”

  She opened the door, and turned around and quickly walked back to the kitchen.

  He blinked when he followed her in.

  The kitchen had been painted. “Looks nice,” he said.

  And it did. Light gray walls. Ben’s photos were gone, and replaced with framed prints from the Museum of Fine Arts. A little traditional for Ben’s taste, but nice.

  “Kurt,” she said, smiling briefly. “Did it himself. Even though we probably won’t be here that much longer, he wanted to make the change.”