The Mystery of the Moving Image by C.S. Poe

Author:C.S. Poe [Poe, C.S.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: mystery/suspense
ISBN: 978-1-64080-878-2
Publisher: DSP Publications
Published: 2018-09-11T05:00:00+00:00

“DUDE, NO offense, but today fucking sucks,” Max said.

“No offense taken.”

I stood at the counter, assistant on one side of me, dog on the other. Dispatch had sent more cops than I could count, and the dimly lit Emporium was strobing like a rave party from all the cruisers parked outside. Lee was near the pillar, and a uniformed officer was taking his statement. Neil was standing outside on the sidewalk, talking with a few more cops.

“Someone’s out for you, Seb,” Max muttered after another minute had passed.

“Figures.”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, just, you know. If it’s not some nutcase stalker or vigilante, it’s this.” I held my hands out toward the shop floor. “Whatever this is.” I looked at Max. “What do you think of the possibility of someone trying to sue me for their property being stolen?”

Max made a face and jutted a thumb over his shoulder. “What, the Kinetoscope?”

“Yeah.”

He didn’t seem convinced, but said, “I guess it’s a possibility.”

“It’s the only one that doesn’t seem too fantastical to be true,” I answered. “The 1890s murder is fascinating, but there was a killing in the alley that takes a bit more precedence.”

“One of us could be next,” Max said with an audible swallow.

I cleared my own throat. “Last night, when that fuckface asked for the other movies… maybe there was a second package that was delayed or lost by the delivery company—what? Why’re you smirking?”

Max leaned forward to rest his elbows on the counter. “You said fuckface.”

Lee climbed the stairs just then to stand on my left at the counter. “I was told we can’t leave until the lead investigator gets here.”

“Fantastic,” I muttered. I’d really had all I could stomach of Lee.

Lee looked at me, away, then back. “What’s wrong with your eyes?”

“Nothing.” I took off my glasses, set them aside, and tilted my head a bit to try to stop the shaking. “Nystagmus.”

My dancing-eyes condition was nowhere near as bad as when I was a kid. These days it was hardly noticeable unless I got really stressed out. And I was usually pretty chill, almost to a fault. Although, I could do without Calvin’s ex in my personal space, being a living reminder of everything I wasn’t.

The cordless phone beside the register rang.

Max just laughed. “We’re closed,” he said at it.

I reached for the phone, missed, fumbled, and grabbed it. I put my glasses back on before hitting a button. Among all the cops and chaos surrounding me, I said, “Snow’s Antique Emporium.”

My ear was immediately filled with Glenn Miller’s “Moonlight Serenade.” I could hear someone mutter and the handset of a phone get jumbled around.

“Ah—hello? Hello? My name’s James Robert. Can you hear me now?”

“Er—yes, sir. How can I help you?”

“I’m looking for the owner,” he said, a bit too loudly, and I had to pull the phone back.

“That’s me. Sebastian Snow.”

“Did you get my package?” he asked next, barely letting a breath settle between introductions and the heart of the matter.

“Excuse me?”

“My package, boy!”

All right, Jim Bob.

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