When we last left Ed he was waiting for the police to arrive and ask him why he was practicing his heavy metal chops before normal people were out of bed. Pull up your lawn chair and grab a beverage, the next exciting episode is about to begin!
---
When the weather is fine I like to sit out on the back porch in the evening. I watch the wind and trees. I listen to the moon and stars.
Hmmm, that might be the whiskey talking. Tonight’s reverie needed a splash of the water of life after what happened today.
—
I was able to convince the cops that pesky raccoons were responsible for the early morning serenade that woke up my neighbours and prompted them to file unappreciative concert reviews with the city. We agreed raccoons were a scourge upon this fair land and their tastes in music were atrocious. I gave them some bagels as they left. Order had been restored.
After the cops left Leslie went back to bed. I was too frazzled to do anything and plopped back into my chair at the kitchen table to contemplate recent events. The bagels were gone. The coffee pot was dry. My brain was full of crumbs.
I waited for Frank to call.
—
The phone must have rang and I must have picked it up. I was talking to Frank, so some telephonic actions must have happened.
I had fallen asleep at the table. The clock on the wall said 7. The bottom of my left arm said wash me. It was slathered in cream cheese. Apparently I had used it as a pillow. It had honourably protected my head from breakfast debris as I slept.
“Ed, you need to get over here. It’s bad.”
“Slow down. Where are you?”
“I’m in the office’s basement parking garage, in the phone booth. I couldn’t think where else to go.”
“Did you get there ok?”
“Yeah, nothing else happened. But it’s not good. You need to get over here and have a look.”
Cream cheese and crumbs and early hours had worn my patience thin.
“Look, enough with the mystery. Just tell me.”
“It looks like a bomb went off in the trunk. Can you get over here so I can show you. It’s hard to explain.”
“OK, I’ll be there soon.”
As soon as I scraped off the cream cheese and got presentable.
—
Frank’s office, the headquarters if you will, of his company, Model Investigations, was located in the old Duro Frosted Foods building down near the beach. Rush hour traffic was just starting to congeal. Streetcars were everywhere, but there were still enough holes in the morass to slide my way through without much delay.
The garage was still pretty much empty when I arrived. I pulled into the spot to the right of Frank’s car. Rob had parked to the left. Frank was sitting at the wheel of his car. Rob was nowhere to be seen.
“Where’s Rob?”
“He went up to the office to sleep on the couch.”
Frank got out and opened the trunk.
“See.”
What I saw was a mess. Mechanical and electrical parts strewn everywhere. Charred cardboard and scorch marks. Dents and scratches. And a very bad smell.
“It does look like an explosion in there, but what’s with all those parts? Did you have one of your parts chests in there?”
“No. It was empty. I think it was some sort of explosive music box with mechanical timers and electrical stuff that played a self destructive tune. One that would have destroyed us too if it wasn’t in the trunk. We were lucky.”
Frank reached in and pulled out one of the charred cardboard pieces and showed what was left of its printed side to me. I could clearly read Bruno’s Shoes through the burns.
“This is a shoebox, not a kit.”
“Yeah.”
“Where’s the kit?”
“I don’t know. Maybe it was a wrapper around the shoebox and got burned up? There doesn’t seem to be any remnants of anything kit like in the trunk.”
I put the cardboard back with the other wreckage. Frank closed the trunk lid. I wasn’t sure what to do next so I asked Frank,
“So, what now?”
“I’m going to convince Rob to let me take my car over to his place so I can go through what’s in the trunk in private. We can’t do it here without attracting attention, and we sure can’t go back to your place. I want you to come and help me. Can you do that?”
“Sure, but I should go home and get my tools.”
“Before that, let’s go up and talk to Rob. I don’t know where he lives.”
—
I hope you don’t mind but I’m going to pour another drink before I go on. It’s been thirsty work.
It turns out Rob lives here in New Scarboro, not too far from my place. We spent most of the day at his house carefully taking everything out of the trunk, photographing it, and laying it out in his basement in what we thought was some kind of order. When I left Frank was deep into trying to put the device back together as best he could. Rob knew to leave Frank be so he went upstairs and got some sleep.
That seemed like a good idea so when we were done sorting I figured I’d leave and go home to get some sleep too. I suggested to Frank he do the same sometime because we might get another call tonight.
—
And we did.
This time Leslie answered. I was dozing on the back porch. She came outside and gently shook my shoulder to wake me.
“We gotta go. There’s going to be another one in just a few minutes. It’s not too far away.”
“Ok. Thanks for letting me know. I’ll be back in a while.”
“I’m driving. You’re in no shape. Besides, I want to see for myself what’s going on.”
—
We drove out to the CedarLea shopping plaza. This time it was Scott’s Cameras that was all lit up.
We approached the plaza in a roundabout way and parked on a dark side street far from Scott’s, but with a direct line of sight. I was concerned we wouldn’t see anything.
“We’re a bit far away aren’t we?”
Leslie reached into the backseat and lifted up a pair of binoculars from the floor and handed them to me. She reached back again and pulled out our old SLR with the long lens attached. She explained,
“We’ll just sit and watch. I told Frank not to come. If there’s one thing all those cop shows have taught me is weird perps like to see their schemes in action. He probably knows you guys got away and is dying to try again. And he’s probably somewhere around watching.”
We stayed put and did our own watching.
I think I started to nod off. A long day, too much excitement, mixed with whisky was taking its toll. Leslie gently shook my shoulder.
“Hey, wake up.”
I did, but I still didn’t see any action at Scott’s. Leslie clicked off a few shots. The end time came. Scott’s lights went off. And that was that.
Leslie asked, “Did you see anything? Anybody?”
“No. Nothing.”
Leslie looked me in the eye and followed up with, “What exactly did you see?”
“Same as always. A brightly lit up hobby store. People milling around inside. Then the lights go out and the store goes back to its usual non-hobby shop self.”
“I didn’t see anything like that. It was just Scott’s Cameras, dark, waiting out the night. No people, nothing different from all the other stores in the plaza snoozing until they reopen in the morning. My pictures will prove it.”
I was really confused.
“You know when I shook your shoulder?”
“Yeah?”
“As soon as I touched you I saw what you saw. When I let go, it was back to normal.”
“So you’re saying I hallucinated the whole thing? What about the exploding kit? That was real.”
“My guess is it was left outside Bruno’s for you and Frank to pickup while you were outside in whatever hallucinating hypnotic state you were in. You likely stand outside these stores, imagining things, and the box was a present left for you.”
“Hypnotic state? Oh come on! I’m not seeing things on the outer limits of a twilight zone.”
“Who are you gonna believe? Me and my pictures, or your lyin’ eyes?”
We were silent. We locked eyes.
Our moment was broken by a streetcar sliding up to the stop down the street, at the edge of plaza, blocking our view of Scott’s. I raised my binoculars and scanned the streetcar.
“There’s one passenger inside. You see that silhouette near the back?”
Leslie raised the camera, took a few shots, and asked, “Maybe he’s the perp?”
“I don’t know, but I do know my streetcars. That car is running the Leroy circulation loop. It goes all day and night, up and down Leroy Avenue. There’s a loop at either end and we’re near one of them. See, there’s track in the other lane and a stop just over there.”
I pointed to the streetcar stop across from where we’d parked. Leslie put down her camera and eyed the embedded street track in the other driving lane.
The streetcar started to pull away. Mr. Silhouette was still inside.
“There aren’t any stops in the loop until he gets to that one.” I pointed again to the stop across from us. “He’ll be here in just a minute.”
I put the binoculars on the dash and got out of the car.
“Are you crazy? Get back in here!”
“After he picks me up, follow us.”
I softly closed the car door and jogged across the street to the stop. I could see the streetcar’s headlight approaching. I fumbled in my pockets for change. I hoped I had enough for the fare.
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