Backbone: Walk The Line

Takin' Care Of Business

The time was approaching for Bloodworth's driver to arrive, and Renee didn't waste it twiddling her thumbs while she waited. Venturing out into the dense gray morning mist accompanying the snow, she circled the whole apartment to look for any evidence of the one spying through her window. There was nothing besides a fresh blanket of white and frozen trash bins in the back alley, but around the corner she spotted a set of prints where someone had landed on their feet and slid onto their hands. Her eyes darted up to her apartment window on the third story and back down to the depression. "One hell of a jump." The tracks continued, each step farther and farther apart up the stairs to the street level. They'd run past their original path that ended below the fire escape on the side of the building.

Renee reached for the ladder hanging halfway down, but it was just beyond her grasp. She looked around for anything that she could use, eventually spotting a tattered umbrella in a nearby trash can. "Okay." She plucked it from the can and used its j-hook handle to pull down on the steel rungs. Sure enough, there were imprints on either side where the snow had been brushed away. Above was the window over her kitchen sink and the ledge that wrapped around the building.

Her cold grip slipped. "Dammit!" The ladder flew all the way back up to its true resting place, taking the umbrella with it. Renee tried to jump for it, but it was too high now. The umbrella was stuck up there, and she wasn't willing to crawl out the kitchen window just to get it down. She left it and moved on past the door to the basement apartments and back up the staircase to her domicile.

Once back inside she checked the clock. "Not much longer." Renee turned her attention to the boxes Howard's mother had left her along with the folding basket Helen had forgotten. "I hope you got something good for me, Howard." Rolling the basket to the side of the couch out of the way, she cleared the coffee table and unloaded the boxes in front of her. Peeling their lids off she began her initial search.

At first glance it looked like every junk pile shoved to the back of every thrift store shelf. Picking it apart unveiled an order to the chaos. Renee separated the canisters of developed celluloids from the new rolls still in their packaging. These were recognizable along with the silver and black Pentax camera, lens wipes, and receipts to a shop. "Andy's Camera Supply and Services." She scratched down the address, on a scrap of paper, 1055 Granville Street. "Worth checking out later."

Next, Renee slid out a hard plastic box with H. Lotor scribed out in silver marker. In the box was a beige and brown film roll slide projector. Alongside it was a stack of audio cassettes and pastel containers all color coded by sticker labels. One container stood out above the rest, its butter yellow face carefully adorned with a neat label. "Places of Absolute Solitude." She set it aside with its matching cassette.

Near the bottom of the first box was a hat case with a birthday card still attached. The card was plain with a simple greeting overshadowed by ballpoint scribbles from Howard's mother.

Renee read it aloud to herself. "Howard, here's to another one. If anything, congratulations for making it as far as you have. I know we don't see eye to eye on most things, but you're still my son. I'm still your mother. Thought you might like this, hope it's not too small. Reminds me of the movies you talk about so often. Sincerely, Mom. P.S. Good luck with your finals." Pulling apart the twine bow, she separated the lid and parted the alabaster tissue inside.

She withdrew the hat, an old fashioned gray fedora with a charcoal ribbon around the crown. Its thin brim and sharp features echoed with the shady jazz of sober gangsters and drunken detectives. It was in exceptional shape for how ancient it looked. The hardened felt was light and clean, its polished lining inviting.

Bringing it up, Renee sat it atop her head. It was only a little loose, oddly comfortable despite the fleeting guilt of wearing possible evidence. She stepped over to the mirror to look at herself. The hat stuck out like a sore thumb next to her fiery face and the green of her suit. Though, there was a satisfying emotional weight growing around it.