Black Swan Planet by James Peters

Author:James Peters [Peters, James]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: ENDLESS WORLDS PUBLICATIONS
Published: 2017-09-20T23:00:00+00:00

Some other folks walked in and Brian looked up to greet them.“Go ahead.” I said, nodding at him. He stepped away and met the other folks at the door. I took the chance to peel the photo from the album and slip it into my pocket. I closed the album and set the magnifying glass on top of it.

“Thanks!” I said as we left.

Marco had been waiting in the car. Gina wanted to wander around the visitor’s center, so I showed the picture to Marco, pointing to the corner. “Anybody you know?”

Marco looked at it and pantomimed a crown on his head.

“That’s right. Your sign for Maven. You and Nicholai believed her to be a Queen.” I noticed a stamped message on the back of the photo. ‘Property of J. Greenwalt, Photographer. Big Sky, MT.’

The next day, I convinced Gina that I had some work and she agreed to see some sights with Marco. I drove to Big Sky, stopped at the first phone booth I saw, and thumbed through the telephone book chained to the wall. Greenwalt, John. 1514 W. Main. Should be easy enough to find. Main or State streets typically run through the center of town. A few minutes of driving and I found the house, a white two story with a big front porch. As I pulled up, I saw a man rocking in a glider loveseat. He wore blue dressy pants held up by a belt adorned with a camera on the buckle, and a white shirt that had been stained multiple times, probably by photographic developing chemicals.

“Mr. Greenwalt? John Greenwalt?” I said, stepping out from the car.

“Does he owe you money? If so, he just left.”

“No, not at all. I’m a reporter and I’m working on a story on the fifty-nine quake. A follow-up, what with the new visitor’s center and all, there’s some new interest.”

He studied me with his eyes. “Ah, I see. So what can I do ya’ for?”

“A colleague gave me a picture of yours, and I’m working on a story. By chance, do you have any more like this one.” I showed him the photo. “My colleague recommended I come to see you. We have pictures of the deceased, but we wanted to do more follow-up on the families, and those who attended the memorial service.”

“This colleague of yours. Would you mind sharing his name?”

“Well, I’m not sure if you’d know him, he said he knew you through a friend of his.”

“That’s an evasive answer. What’s his name?”

“Marco.”

“I don’t know a Marco. Where’s he from?”

“West Virginia.”

“I don’t know anybody from West Virginia. That’s a long way away. How did he get my name?”

“He’s a photography critic, very fond of your work, and acted like he knew you. Probably knows you through your pictures. He said you could see the soul of a good photographer in the tone of their pictures.”

“Bullshit. That sounds like a line I used to use to try and get the hot young girls to pose for me.

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