Frames Per Second

by Bill Eidson

  She gestured to a stool and they sat across from each other at the kitchen island. She shook the carafe of coffee. “He’s getting me organized, too. I even thought to make coffee.”

  “Still planning to build that new house?” Ben asked.

  She nodded. “Marblehead.”

  “Good for you,” Ben said. Marblehead. One of the more expensive suburbs on the North Shore of Massachusetts. It would add another half hour to his visiting time under ideal conditions. Double that during rush hour.

  But he wasn’t here to argue.

  “How are you doing on a new job?” she asked. “Your child support check is due this week.”

  “Have I ever missed one before?”

  She shrugged. “No. But things are different.” She kept her eyes averted from him.

  Ben leaned forward. “Wouldn’t you say a tad bit of that difference is because your new husband is still jealous even though he’s got you and the kids? To the point of firing me in the hope I’d just go away? Even so, I will make my child support payment. I may choose to go back and sue him and Insider for wrongful termination, but I will certainly live up to my responsibilities.”

  “This is your idea of an apology?” she flared.

  “Is the crap Kurt has been pulling your idea of working together for the sake of the kids?”

  “He’s taking care of us while you’re off playing cops and robbers. You think I want to take the kids to your funeral? You think I want that myself?”

  “For Christ sakes, Andi, Kurt assigned me to chase this story. It’s my job, or it was until he fired me. Besides, you think I should just let go what happened to Peter? He was your friend, too.”

  A tear slipped down Andi’s cheek, surprising Ben.

  It pulled him up short.

  She said, “Kurt told me what the police said. He told me that man, Lee Sands, would’ve shot you if it wasn’t for that train.”

  Ben put his hand on her shoulder and she slapped it away.

  She rubbed the tears from her face angrily, and said, in a shaky voice, “Three times somebody’s tried to kill you in the past month. And for what? So you can show the world how ugly it is? Catch people at their worst? I can’t have you around if you’re just going to get yourself killed. Can’t you do something else? Go work on that book of yours. Get another job.”

  They heard the front door open.

  Andi stood and turned away quickly, rubbed her eyes, and blew her nose. By the time Jake came through the door, she was able to turn and give him a small smile.

  When he saw Ben there, he looked to his mother. “Why’ve you been crying?” He looked at Ben accusingly. “What did you do?”

  “Oh, stop,” Andi said. “He didn’t do anything. We were just talking and I got upset.”

  Jake looked between the two of them uncertainly.

  “Listen to me, Jake,” Ben said. “You don’t have to worry about what happened with me and Kurt ever happening again.”

  Jake looked between him and Andi.

  She nodded. “I’m sure that’s true.”

  “Yeah?” Jake looked at Ben. “I wouldn’t want it to.”

  Ben put his hand out and made his second deal of the day.

  Jake asked Ben if he’d like to go downstairs to see some of the shots he’d taken with the digital camera.

  “Sure.”

  Andi looked at Ben warningly. “Not too long, OK? Kurt is going to be home for an early supper. He’s taking us all to the movies tonight.”

  “I understand.”

  Ben and Jake went down to the family room. Jake handed Ben some photos, with an indifferent shrug. “Anyhow, these are what we’ve been doing.”

  Ben smiled. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

  He took them to the light.

  “Hey, nice,” he said, feeling relieved. He didn’t have to fake his enthusiasm.

  Some of them were just simple grab shots from around the house, of Lainnie being surprised awake; of Andi waving from the kitchen island as she poured dressing onto the salad. Kurt smiling over his newspaper. Looking fatherly.

  But the digital manipulations were the most fun. Lainnie and Jake, side by side—but upside down from each other. Jake standing on the surface of a lake—apparently walking on water.

  “My miracle boy,” Ben said.

  Jake laughed and stepped closer, his face flushed with pleasure.

  “You like them?”

  “I do. Clever and creative. The picture quality’s not bad either.” Ben could still see the digital pattern fairly easily, but still it was a substantial improvement over what the earlier digital cameras could do.

  “Yeah, but look at what I figured out,” Jake said. “I used your old camera stand and reshot this one on film and had it printed.”

  He showed Ben a portrait he had taken of Andi. It was a soft focus shot, but the warmth of her expression made Ben’s chest feel slightly tight. The love that was there for her son, the family of which Ben was no longer a part. He pulled out a loupe and looked at the print.

  “See?” Jake said. “A little soft focus, and I’ll bet you can’t find the digital dot pattern now.”

  Ben straightened slowly.

  “You see it?” Jake asked, the enthusiasm beginning to fade as he looked at his father. “You can’t, can you?”

  “No,” said Ben. “No, I can’t.”

  CHAPTER 30

  IT WASN’T COLD, BUT BEN FELT NUMB.

  He positioned himself beside the air-conditioning unit across from McGuire’s office all afternoon. There was no sign of movement. Around six, Ben packed up and left to grab a sandwich. It had no taste.

  He left his equipment in the van, and just before seven he walked up the street and crossed through Faneuil Hall. The evening light was painting the city in a warm, golden light and Ben took in the smell of sausage, pizza, pesto, coffee, cotton candy. A man flew mechanical birds in a winding loop outside his novelty store; a woman in a black beret called out that free face painting was available for anyone making a ten-dollar purchase or more at her poster shop. Ben took in the hustle in the Marketplace as people made their way to dinner together, couples, groups of friends. People talking and laughing.

  He felt alone in all of it.

  He suddenly wished that Sarah were with him now. That they could forget all of this, go to the raw bar at the Union Oyster House. Drink cold beers, tell each other stories.

  Instead, he continued past City Hall, took a left onto Tremont, and then waited in the alley across the street from the restaurant on Bromfield Street where he had suggested Sarah take Lucien.

  They showed up in a taxi about fifteen minutes later. She was good, she didn’t even look Ben’s way. He stood in the doorway of a closed jewelry store, doing what he always seemed to be doing. Watching and waiting.

  A bit after eight, Ben entered the restaurant.

  Sarah and Lucien were toward the rear of the restaurant, sitting in a high-backed wooden booth.

  Ben saw her first. She had positioned herself so she could see the front door. Her smile widened ever so slightly and she brushed her hair back. He continued on, the bit with the hair being their signal that Lucien was ready.

  Ben slid in beside Sarah.

  Lucien was indeed ready. There was a champagne stand with an empty bottle turned upside down. A half-empty bottle of wine stood between them on the table. And Lucien’s face was florid, his tie loose. Ben’s entrance had caught him in mid-sentence. From his expression, he had just been about to say something he felt was truly clever. He sat back, blinked, and said in a voice that was just a little too loud. “Ben … it’s good to see you, man.”

  Ben said it was good to see him, too.

  And then Sarah kissed Ben on the cheek.

  Lucien shook his head slightly as if to clear it. “What’s this?”

  Sarah said, brightly, “Lucien’s been a great help showing me the ropes around Insider. The hidden ropes.”

  “Hey …” Lucien be
gan.

  Ben said. “Maybe if I knew those I wouldn’t be out on the street right now.”

  “Well, you already knew about how Lucien could buy an early look at any reporter’s photos,” she said. “Gives you a great head’s up if you’re trying to steal a story from one of your co-workers.”

  “Sure,” Ben said. “Huey told me that.”

  She leaned back in the booth and sipped her wine, observing Lucien with cold amusement. She cocked her head at Ben. “Let me try this out on you. Lucien was telling me how good looking I am and that being a bit of a looker himself, he manages to learn things just being sweet to the right women around the office. I think he was leading up to a trade of information after he jumped me himself, but that may just be the champagne talking. But I specifically heard Lisa mentioned.’’

  Lisa. Kurt’s secretary.

  Ben said, “She certainly knows a lot. She also has everyone’s voicemail code typed up in front of her phone.”

  Lucien started.

  Sarah leaned over and slapped Ben’s palm. “Bingo. Guilty conscience.” She settled back in the booth and smiled at Lucien. “Fess up, boy.”

  Ben realized that she too was at least slightly drunk.

  “That right, Lucien?” Ben said. “You listening in on voicemail messages?”

  “Screw you,” Lucien snapped.

  Sarah laughed. “The puppy dog has teeth.”

  This made Lucien’s face flush even darker. “You two are spinning this shit yourself. I never said that.”

  Ben turned back to Sarah. “You get to his clothes? His Turbo Saab? All that on a junior reporter’s salary?”

  “We were just on it.”

  “What’d he say?”

  “Vague,” she said. “Very vague.”

  “What kind of computer do you have at home?” Ben asked, abruptly. He watched Lucien carefully.

  “Huh?” Lucien seemed genuinely confused. “What’d you ask me? My computer?”

  “That’s right.”

  Lucien held up the notebook computer-sized case that was resting on the bench beside him. “This is all I use. What of it?”

  “Can I see it?”

  If Sarah was as confused with this turn as Lucien, she kept it to herself. “Go ahead, Lucien. What’ve you got to lose?”

  Lucien handed it over to him.

  Ben opened the case and found a low-end system. Black-and-white display. He turned it over and found a pressure stick label with the Insider insignia on it. Company issue. Peter had the same kind.

  “Yeah, so what?” Lucien asked, gathering a little anger together. “I’m not a computer geek, never have been. So what?”

  “You ever listen to Peter’s messages? Find out who his original sources were on any of his stories? Cheever, McGuire, the prison ladies?”

  “What’s your point with this shit?”

  Ben leaned forward, putting his face in Lucien’s. Letting him see the rage that was right there on tap. “Answer my goddamn question.”

  Lucien put up his hands. “Hey, calm down.” He looked away from Ben and then gave a little embarrassed shrug. “Peter was careful. Changed his voicemail code on a regular basis. I didn’t get anything from him.”

  Ben sat back. That sounded plausible. “Tell me what you said to Kurt after you and I went to see Cheever.” Ben added a lie. “Kurt said you influenced his decision to give me the boot.”

  Lucien’s eyes narrowed. He sat straighter. “Is this what you two are all about here?” Lucien seemed to reassess his position and find it not as damaging as he thought. “You’re paranoid, Harris. I didn’t say a goddamn thing about you. I just laid out what Cheever said and Kurt told me to call the senator back and tell him we were off the story.”

  “And you did that?”

  “Yeah, I made the call. The senator said he understood we had our job to do and all that bull. Glad we were out of his hair.”

  “You’re telling me that’s all you or Kurt said? Nothing about me?”

  Lucien’s lips curled derisively. “Man, and I once thought you were a heavyweight.” Lucien drained his wineglass, and then said, “OK, so you think you’ve got something on me? Going to Kurt about me and Huey won’t get your job back, no matter what you think. If this is something you’re trying to get out of me, I’ll toss you a few hundred bucks to forget about it, but that’s as far as it goes. Maybe as much as a thousand. After that, I’ll just take my chances. Kurt has too much on his mind, far as I can tell. You, he fired just because he hates your guts for screwing his wife for the past fifteen years or so. Screwed his wife and gave her a couple of kids.”

  This last bit struck Lucien as funny, and he laughed until he had to wipe tears away. “Look at the two of you. Sitting there thinking you’ve figured something out.”

  “Where do you get your money?” Sarah asked. “Where do you get a thousand dollars to ‘toss’ us?”

  Lucien shrugged. “It’s clean and simple, and you can check it if you want. I’ve got a trust. My grandfather.”

  He took out his business card and wrote a name and phone number on it and tossed it to Sarah. “Go ahead, Ms. Hot Shit Reporter, call Bates and Cleese, my family’s attorneys. I’ll tell them to expect your call and give you the details. I don’t need this job for the money. But I’m going to succeed at it and move on to bigger and better things. Ten years from now, I’ll be anchoring a national news desk while you’ll still be clicking your pictures, Harris. And Sarah, you’ll still be hoping your cute smile and hot little body will still make dopes like me talk too much. It’ll be harder to pull off when you’re on the wrong side of forty.”

  Lucien slid out of the booth. He was unsteady on his feet.

  “Kurt’s not going to stand for what you’ve been doing,” Ben said.

  Lucien snorted. “Like I said, Kurt’s got too much on his mind than to worry about this shit. He’s broke.”

  Ben laughed, making it sound rueful. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. He’s going to build a new house in Marblehead, he must be doing all right.”

  Lucien lifted an imaginary phone to his ear and played back an imaginary message. A message he had apparently snagged from Kurt’s voicemail. “Mr. Tattinger, this is Bob Franklin at Paine Webber again. I’m sorry to say that the market has gone against your silver futures. For the fifth day in a row, it’s opened down the limit. We need cash or market securities to cover your account—and we need them now. It’s urgent that you return this call to me and settle this account immediately.”

  Lucien dropped his hand. “I used to talk investments with Kurt, kissing up. He figured because I came from money I might spill a good tip. He bought big in silver commodities—and if you follow the market at all, you’d know he’s in big trouble. So me and my voicemail messages aren’t exactly major issues in his life right now.”

  Lucien put on his coat and grabbed his laptop and briefcase. He smiled at both of them. “Call me if you’re desperate for that thousand bucks. Otherwise, go fuck yourselves.”

  CHAPTER 31

  “WELL, AT LEAST HE THINKS I HAVE A HOT BODY AND A CUTE smile,” Sarah said. “We got that out of the evening.” She looked sidelong at Ben. “I’m a little looped.”

  “I noticed,” he said. “You did a good job.”

  He put his arm around her and she leaned her head against his shoulder. She smelled of perfume and champagne, and with her warmth against him, he wished he had no other obligation that night except to take her home.

  “You think so?” she said. “What exactly did we learn? Insider is a screwed-up place, full of screwed-up people. Most places are, you look too close.” She looked up at him. “How come you’re so sad?”

  He held her tighter. Knowing what he had to do next.

  “Ben?”

  “It’s like you said,” he answered. “When you look too close.”

  The lights were off when he got back.

  He waited in the van, thinking that maybe the best thing for everyon
e involved was to drive off.

  But he knew that wouldn’t work.

  It was just that every instinct was urging him away. Telling him to hurry to Sarah’s apartment, get there just after the cab dropped her off. Apologize for hustling her off.

  “Shit,” Ben said, and pulled around the corner so the van wouldn’t be parked right out front.

  “Shit,” he said again, after he’d walked back and found the key in the flowerpot, right where she always left it.

  “Ah, shit and damn it to hell,” he said, as he broke into Andi and Kurt’s home.

  He started in the office. While the computer was booting up, he went through all the drawers in his former desk, even the little hiding places in the desk, the two ornamental sliding slots that were actually small vertical drawers.

  In one, he found what looked like love letters from Andi to Kurt. Ben put them away.

  He felt sick to his stomach.

  When the computer was ready, he wasted a good ten minutes finding his way through the system until he found two Photoshop folders, one labeled “Jake’s Jokes,” the other, “Kurt’s Works.”

  Ben opened Kurt’s folder and as quickly as the system would allow, he opened and closed a dozen photo files. Hobby-type stuff, showing manipulation of scenics and home shots like what Jake had shown.

  Ben looked at his watch. Over forty minutes had passed.

  On the desk was a disk drive, and beside it, a file box of disks. Ben looked inside. There were a half-dozen disks. Luckily, only two of them were identified as Kurt’s.

  Ben opened the two of them and ran through the files.

  Nothing important there. But another twenty minutes wasted. He rolled his chair back, frustrated. And hit something soft. Kurt’s briefcase.

  Ben put it on the desk and flipped the locks. They snapped open loudly in the dark room. Using the glow of the computer screen, Ben found a half dozen file folders, including one with the black and white prints of Cheever and of McGuire. Nothing that Kurt hadn’t displayed at their editorial meeting weeks ago.