The Framing of Jon Smith

[joegoda]

45416 / 50000 words. 91% done!



Tommy Peterbuilt was not related to the truck company. He was a scrawny guy, wirey and tight lipped. He didn't wear glasses, and his dark brown eyes were keen and sharp. This was a good thing, I needed his eyesight, because I couldn't trust mine to see what everybody else was seeing. He was also a rookie on the police force, and he was pleased as punch to have been given a special assignment by his chief, who was good friends with Frank.

We stood outside the brownstone the next morning, bright eyed and bushy-tailed. Well, he was, anyway. I wanted more coffee, which, thankfully, was in the El Grande cup I was holding. Frank and I shot the bull till way, way into the morning hours. Being childhood friends can do that to you.

"So," Tommy said, "what are we looking for? Bad guys? Suspicious perps?" His voice was high and tight, and he seemed awfully nervous to me.

"You're just going to be looking at folks," I told him. "I need you to stand behind the glass doors, out of sight and tell me what you see."

"Really?" He sounded disappointed. "That's all?"

"Yeah, Tommy, that's all." I could understand his disappointment. The kid had just joined the force three months ago. He wanted in on the action, what ever action there was. "Tommy," I asked him, "did you ever want to be a detective?"

"Hell yes!" I could tell I touched something in him. "I figure in another six months or so I'll apply."

I smiled at him like a dutch uncle. "Well, this is what detectives spend a lot of time doing. Nothing at all, just waiting, just watching." I looked over my shoulder at the passersby. They were all not looking at me. "See, what I need to know is if you see anyone who is looking directly at me, looking seriously and directly at me. Understand?"

Tommy looked thoughtful and then said, "Is this some of that magic stuff? We don't get much of that in the burbs."

"It's something like magic stuff, yeah."

"There was a magician, once. Played at my school." he said. "He wasn't all that good, though."

"Where was your school?" I was just making conversation, before I went in to find Tammy.

"Bout twenty-five miles that way." He pointed toward the Warehouse District. He must have lived on the other side of the river. "Little town called Playerville. Ever heard of it?"

"Nope." I shook my head and looked over at Roy's gargoyle. "Can't say that I have. It's across the river, isn't it?"

"Yes sir." He nodded, remembering. "Little place, all the houses look alike, all the people look alike. My uncle Mike told me I should get out of there and come to the city." He raised his hands to his shoulders. "Well, here I am. Waiting on the excitement to start."

"Well," I told him, "if you're lucky, this is about as exciting as it's going to be for the rest of your life."

"Aw," he said pitifully, "don't tell me that."

"Kid," I said in all seriousness, "I've seen people excited to death. Better live the boring life and live."

"How about a little excitement?" He sounded hopeful.

"Okay," I said grinning. "Maybe a little. But watch your ass. Promise me." I've seen too many young hotshots killed in the line of duty because they didn't think.

"Mister Smith," He sounded put out with me. I probably hit a tender spot. "I'm twenty five years old. I think I can take care of myself."

"Yeah, Okay," I said. "I'm sorry. I've just seen a lot of twenty five year old kids with their intestines around their necks hanging from lampposts in hell. I'm sure you can take care of yourself."

His eyes bulged a bit. "Hell?" His mouth opened, shut, then opened again. "Hell, as in THE hell?"

I grimaced. It's not something I like to talk about. It was one of those 'just following orders' sort of things. "Yeah, well... it was A hell. There's many different hells, Tommy. This was just one of them. I want you to watch your ass so I don't ever find you in one of them." I looked at my watch for no other reason than to look at it. Ten fifty-two. If I don't get started, I'll never get done.

"Look, Tommy," I clapped him on the arm, buddy-buddy like. "I'm sure you can take care of yourself. Really. But right now, I need you to just keep your eyes open, okay? You and I are going to go into the building here, and I'm going to try to find a ghost..."

He interrupted me. "A ghost? A real ghost?"

"That's debatable," I scratched my head. "I don't think I'll find anything, but that's okay. After I do that little bit of looking around, I'm going to leave. That's when I need you to tell me what you see."

"I'm to stay inside and watch for... suspicious people?" He looked confused.

"No, no." I smiled disarmingly at him. "I need you to stay inside and just watch EVERYBODY that looks at me after I go outside. Is your talkie on?" I indicated the walkie talkie clipped at his collar.

"Yes sir." Tommy clicked it on and off and my earbud clicked on and off in response. "Copy?"

"Rodger, dodger." I grinned. "Let's get started." We walked up the stoop and pushed open the doors like Butch and Sundance. "You stay here."

"Yes, sir." Tommy took up a position next to the mailboxes. "Anything I should be looking for while I'm just standing here?"

I paused at the bottom of the stair case. My eyes were checking the second story banister, hoping that Tammy would show up. "Yeah, Tommy. There is, as a matter of fact." I looked back at him and said, "If you see me talking to myself and nobody else, you aren't to say anything until I'm talking explicitly to you, okay?"

He nodded, slowly. "More magic stuff?"

"Uh hm." I started up the steps. "More magic stuff." I waved my hand at him to hush.

I climbed the stairs to the second floor. "Tammy?" I didn't really expect any response, but what the hell. "Tammy, I need to speak with you." I stood on the landing, craning my neck to look up to the third floor.

"Tammy?" I swung my head around at the sound of a creaking floorboard. There was nothing there. Probably the house settling. "Tammy?"

I continued to the third floor. A voice crackled in my hear. "Mister Smith?" Tommy, probably wondering what the hell I'm doing, checking in.

"Yeah, Tommy," I answered, thumbing my microphone. "I'm fine."

"All right," he answered, sounding a bit nervous. "I heard you calling out."

"What did I tell you, Tommy?" I didn't sound annoyed because I wasn't. Not really. Still, I had an idea of what was going on, and I didn't want a third party screwing it up. "No talking unless I talk first, especially if you hear me talking to myself."

"Yes, sir." He sounded apologetic, at least. "Won't happen again, sir." Another second went by and then he asked, "Did you hear something?"

"Like wha..." and then I did. It sounded like an odd sucking sound. From all 'round, actually, more than from anywhere else.

"What the seven hells?" I felt a subtle vibration that ran through my shoes. It was coming from the floorboards. I clicked my microphone. "Tommy." I didn't want to sound confused. I wanted to sound confident. I probably sounded confusedly confident. "Anything unusual down there?"

Tommy's voice chirped in my ear. "There's this weird sound, sir."

"Yeah, Tommy," I told him, nodding, knowing that he couldn't see me at all. "I can hear it. Anything else unusual?"

"I mean, sir, it sounds like a water going down a drain."

He was right. It did sound like that.

He continued, "And the sky outside..."

"What about the sky, Tommy?"

"It's uh...," He paused and then said, "Never mind. It's just my imagination."

"Tell me, Tommy." I needed his eyes to see what I couldn't. "What about the sky?"

"Well, sir." He clicked off for a second. "I thought the sky brightened, like the sun got stronger."

"Tommy," He was acting a bit odd, I wanted to know why. "Why did you just click off?"

"I, uh." He clicked on and off again. "Nothing, sir. I thought the sky brightened a bit. Maybe the clouds went away."

"Tommy," I was getting irritated, "I didn't ask you what you saw. I asked why you clicked off. And now you just did it again." I took a breath. "What's going on?"

"Nothing, sir." Hmm. "Maybe it's a bit o' problem with the electronics."

I couldn't imagine Tommy useing a phrase like 'bit o'. He was from over the river, not some other country. "Tommy. Stay there. I'm coming down."

"What, sir?" Tommy sounded nervous. "Everything is fine here. Stay up there and finish your work. Did you find Tammy, yet?"

I jumped up and sprinted down the stairs. I felt that vibration through the banister, through my hands. The lighting fixtures over the third and second landings were shaking, their crystals tinking in an invisible wind. The sound of 'going down the drain' had increased and was rising exponentially with every step I took.

I jumped past the second story landing just as I heard Tammy's voice calling out to me. I ignored her. I had no time for her right now. Besides, he played his hand, I had his number.

I landed flat footed on the floor before a startled Tommy. His eyes and his mouth went round and he almost reached for his gun.

"Thanks for not shooting me," I said. "Did you just talk to me on the radio?"

Tommy looked confused at that. "No. No, sir." He looked up the stairs past me. "I haven't heard a word from you since you went up the stairs." He turned his gaze back to me.

"You didn't call me to ask me if I was all right?" I looked directly into his eyes. He was an innocent, from a family of innocents. There would be no hell for him.

"No sir," he shook his head violently. "You gave me explicit orders to NOT call you, remember?"

"Yeah...," I nodded. "Yeah." I looked over my shoulders and back up to the second landing. "Did you feel or hear anything unusual? At all?"

"I thought," he said with some hesitation in his voice, "that the sky brightened. I looked out the window and saw that the clouds had passed in front of the sun. That's all."

I turned and looked out the front door. The sun had, indeed, gone behind the clouds. And then it came back out again, just like that.

"You didn't say that you heard a sucking sound?" I watched the sun fade and then come back. I thought it had been a fully sunny day when we got here. I looked at my watch. I looked at it again, a bit stunned. It was three fifty seven.

"No sir." He joined me in looking outside. "I didn't hear a sucking or any other sound. I heard you going up the stairs, but that was all." He watched the sun fade in and out. "Was it supposed to rain today?"

"Tommy," I clapped him on the shoulder, "remember what you said about some excitement?"

He looked oddly at me. "Yeah."

"What time is it?" I asked him.

He looked at his watch. "Four o'clock?" He shook his watch, which was funny since they all run on batteries now. "How can it be four o'clock? It's only, like, eleven thirty, at the latest." He looked at me pleadingly. "Isn't it?"

I shook my head. "Tommy, I think we just went through a little time warp."

"A time warp?" Tommy looked frightened. "Does it hurt?"

"The question is 'Did it hurt?', Tommy." I looked outside again and shrugged. "I don't think we're any the worse for wear. Let's go."

"Go?" Tommy was still a bit freaked, I think, by my talk of hell, ghosts and time warps. "Go where?"

"Well, I'm going to go outside," I told him simply, "and you're going to watch folks as they walk by. I'm going to call you on the talkie and ask you what you see and you're going to tell me." I got his attention with a couple of fingersnaps. "Okay? Tommy? Okay?"

"Sure, Yeah, okay." He shook his head, coming back from my world to his. "Okay. I'll wait here until you call me." He nodded. Then he held up one finger. "Wait. Mister Smith?"

"Yes, Tommy?"

"Is your world always full of stuff like this? Time warps and ghosts and such?"

"Tommy," I tried to think of something to say. I thought about filling full of terror, trying to scare him away from my world. I thought about telling him what everyone normal believes, that most of what I've seen and some of what I've done and heard are mostly my imagination. I chose for the truth.

"Yeah, sometimes." I shrugged. "Not all the time, mind you. But sometimes, yeah." I watched his face for a reaction. "Kind of freaky, isn't it?"

He nodded. "It's a bit hard to take, sir. I mean, I've heard about ghosts, of course. Everyone has, and I think most folks believe in 'em. Hell, though, is a different thing. I was taught hell was where bad folks go when they die. You know... sinners? I've never heard of a time warp, but I can sort of understand what they are."

He rubbed the top of his head util I thought it would be rubbed raw.

"It's a whole different world, Mister Smith." He looked at me earnestly. "Different than where I come from, you know?"

I nodded. "Yes, Tommy. I do know."

"Still," He seemed to make some sort of unconscious decision. Come to a reasonable conclusion. "Still," he repeated, "it beats sitting at home, watching pigeons roost. It beats watching my mom beat my dad and vice versa."

Sometimes I forget that hells come in all different shapes and sizes, and all of them are very personal.

"Let's get on, Mister Smith." Tommy nodded. "You go outside and I'll watch to see what, if anything, I can see." He nodded again. "Doesn't matter if it's eleven thirty or four o'clock. It's just time, ain't is... isn't it? Makes no sense to waste it, does it?"

He was right. In his own plain words, it makes no sense to waste time. Waste time. Yeah. "Tommy," I said, nodding right back at him. "You are absolutely right. Let's not waste time. I stepped on to the marble landing and opened the doors. "Remember. You just watch. Watch everybody. Watch everything."

He nodded. "You got it, Mister Smith. I'll just watch. Everything."

"Okay, then." I stepped out and walked down to stand next to gargoyle Roy. I patted his head and smiled. I know what's what, Roy. Or I think I do. I just need to solve a little bit of who killed Mendlehousen, and I even thing I have a handle on that."

It started. A man and a woman walking a dog were staring at me, hard. A dodge dart drove by and the old man driving was so focused on me, I don't know how he avoided crashing. There was a boy bouncing a basket ball down the block and he was burning his gaze into my head.

I touched the mic and talked to Tommy. "Tell me what you see, Tommy."

"I don't see anything, sir," he said. "Nobody is doing anything out of the ordinary."

"You don't see people staring at me," I asked. "That old man in the car... he was staring at me, wasn't he?"

"No sir, Mister Smith. I didn't see anyone staring at you." He sounded confused again. "I promise. Nobody was giving you any sort of out of the ordinary look at all."

"You're absolutely sure?" I asked this as I was watching an old woman stroll down the road, her eyes focused as hard on mine as they could possibly be.

"Mister Smith," Tommy sounded put out with me again. "I know what I'm seeing. I know that, with my very own eyes, there is no one looking at you askance, sideways, oddwise, giving you the stink-eye, the fish-eye, or even the evil eye. In fact, from my position, I don't see anyone paying you any attention at all."

"Okay, Tommy. Okay." I smiled. He certainly can get passionate. "I believe you."

So, what I wondered was correct. My own special sight was screwing me up. The ability to see backward and forward was blocking me from seeing what was normal. I was seeing the world from a magical aspect, or whatever I was I did.

And what did it mean? It meant that, for whatever reason, I was the focus of a whole lot of people, all aat once.

"Tommy?"

"Yes, sir?"

"What time do you get off shift?"

"Any normal day, sir, I'd say in about four hours." He paused and I could almost feel him smile. "However, today being what it is, I'd say I just got off right about now. Why do you ask?"

"Because I need a drink, and I need to talk to some friends of mine." I turned to see his plain sharp-boned face looking at me through the window. "You're old enough to drink, aren't you?"

"Yes sir," he said smiling back at me. "I think if I'm old enough for a time warp, I'm old enough to drink."