Free Frames Per Second by Bill Eidson

Peter.”
    “Uh-huh. Well, we just came from the lab. They say it’s looking like the explosion came from this side.”
    He tapped the cloth side.
    Ben cocked his head. “That side?”
    “Yeah,” Brace said. “The bomb was inside your camera bag.”
     
     

 
    CHAPTER 9
     
     
    BEN WAS IN THE BACK OF THE VAN HE HAD BOUGHT THAT MORNING when Lucien found him. They were in the parking garage underneath the building where Insider was based. The van was a beat-to-hell Chevy with a strong engine, a good suspension and tires. Ten thousand bucks, paid by the Insider’s financial officer with a sigh and shake of his head. Everything, from the beige color to the missing hubcaps, only encouraged the eye to slide right past it.
    Lucien clambered in. “Here, let me help.”
    The smell of his aftershave filled the van immediately, and he hovered beside Ben. Lucien grabbed an end of the curtain rod and pulled it to the fitting Ben had just installed. “Like this, right?”
    “Uh-huh.”
    Lucien said, “You think I’ve got a shot on the lead?”
    “I really don’t know.”
    Ben wanted to like Lucien, but from everything he had seen so far, Lucien was not only a kiss ass, but his ambition outweighed his talent.
    “There’s talk that Kurt is looking for a replacement for Peter,” Lucien said. “I don’t think that makes sense, do you? I mean, I could hit the ground running with Peter’s assignments.”
    “Huh,” Ben said.
    Lucien had been dogging him for answers for days, presumably because he thought Kurt’s marriage to Andi gave Ben some sort of inside pipeline.
    “So you haven’t heard anything?”
    Ben attached the rod on his side. The act of kneeling made him want to scream. He expected his bandages under his jeans were beginning to seep blood. “Not a thing.”
    “Ah.” Lucien looked at his watch. “Well, let’s go. Kurt’s called an editorial meeting and you know how he hates it when people are late.”
    Ben bit back his immediate response. Part of his new policy of giving his children’s stepfather every chance.
     
    Kurt sat waiting quietly while Lucien, Ed Liston, and Ben joined the group. Already Sid Barrett, Glenda Pierce, and Leslie Shea were seated. Sid handled business and finance reporting; Glenda, the society pages; and Leslie handled entertainment. Ben was somewhat surprised to see them all gathered at once: perhaps Kurt intended a staff meeting more than an editorial meeting. None of these three typically worked on the investigative projects and Kurt rarely brought people to a meeting without a reason.
    Kurt looked up from his notebook. When he spoke, his voice was quiet. “As you’re all well aware, we’re dealing with the tragic loss of Peter. He was a friend and colleague to all of us. But before that, he was a husband and father. Some of you may know that Peter had been previously married to Sarah Taylor, when they were both on the Chicago Tribune. I expect all of you are familiar with her work when she was with the New York Times.’’
    “Was?” Lucien said.
    Kurt paused.
    “Shortly after Peter’s death was made public, I received a call from Sarah. This is a rather unusual move, but because of her talents I felt my instincts were on target … and when she said that she wanted to move to Boston to work for the Insider —so she could find out what happened to Peter … I offered her a position on the spot.”
    “But … she won’t have any contacts here.” Lucien’s face was stricken. He shot a look at Ben. “Hell, most likely Peter got killed because he was driving Ben’s van. I was in on the Johansen story. What good is an investigative reporter who doesn’t know anyone?”
    “I know you were on the story,” Kurt said. “In fact, I seem to remember assigning it to you. The point is that Sarah’s a highly talented investigator and writer and we’re lucky to have her. Surely you read her piece on the Teamsters.”
    Lucien colored. Rumor had it that her piece missed