“Uncle Benedict, I’ve got a bit of trouble,” Peggy said. “That’s nothing serious,” Benedict replied. “I’ve been hiding things from the police.” “Oh, why not? You can’t go around telling everyone everything you know.” She laid out the situation to him, and he listened intently: “What do you need me to do?” he asked after she finished. She said, “In the glass trash container at apartment 519, there’s a fragment of a whiskey bottle. I want to get it before the garbage collectors do. I need someone to process it for fingerprints and photograph them for preservation, to be used as evidence if needed.” “What else do you need?” “Your ongoing support.”
Uncle Benedict wheeled himself to the phone, dialed a number, waited a moment, then said, “George?” He waited a bit longer, then gave the address of the apartment where Stella Lynn had once lived. “In the backyard, there’s a galvanized trash can with the number 519 on it. There’s a broken whiskey bottle inside. I want you to carefully preserve that bottle fragment, remove the dust to get fingerprints. Fix any fingerprints you find to preserve them longer. And I need you to take photos. Oh, you’d better take someone with you in case anyone asks you to identify the bottle; you’ll have a witness. Your record isn’t exactly spotless… Who is he? … Okay, he’ll do… If anyone questions you, flash your badge, say you’re a health inspector complaining about some violation… Yes, put them on the defensive… Let me know when it’s done. Goodbye.” Uncle Benedict hung up the phone and turned to Peggy: “It’s being taken care of. If you need anything else, just say so.” His eyelids drooped, and he nodded off. Peggy took some elaborate precautions to ensure she wasn’t being followed, then retrieved the photos she had left for quick processing. Back in her apartment, she examined the nine photos carefully, feeling quite disappointed. In one photo taken by the beach, a young, handsome man in tight swim trunks with golden curly hair smiled charmingly, his physique robust, yet Peggy gained no useful information from him. There was a photo of a car parked by the beach, and two photos of Stella Lin in a swimsuit. These two photos would never pass any censor’s review anywhere at any time. Clearly, the swimsuit was cleverly assembled from three pieces of Indian tie-dye headscarves, accentuating the curves of her body. This was not swimwear meant for actual swimming. One photo showed the rear of a car with a young man pulling two small suitcases out of the trunk. The background featured some tiny wooden cabins with garages. Peggy tried to see the car’s license plate, but unfortunately, the man was standing right there, nearly obscuring all the numbers except for the last three digits, 861.
Peggy pondered over a photo of a parked car with a vast beach in the background. Once again, the license plate was unreadable, as the car was photographed from the side. Another photo depicted a beach picnic at noon. The young man, with a slim waist and broad shoulders, sat cross-legged on the ground. The phone rang, and Peggy picked it up. It was Don Kimberly’s voice, saying, “Thank heavens, I’ve finally found you, Peggy.” “What’s wrong?” “This morning, I went to the office and heard a detective was looking for me. I thought before I talk to anyone, we should find out more about that letter, so I’ve been hiding. But I don’t plan to hide from you, and I don’t want you to think I’ve abandoned you to deal with this alone. I’ve been looking for you all day.” A wave of relief washed over her. “Oh, that’s nice, Don,” she said, “I’m glad you thought of me. Where are you now?” “Now,” he said, “I’m at a payphone.” She said, “I think you’re quite the photographer.” “Yes, I’ve done a lot of photography work.” “I have some film, I think we should – oh, I think we should enlarge a couple of them.” “Where did you get this film?” She didn’t answer. Kimberly said, “Oh – oh, I see.” “How long will it take?” “How many are there?” “Nine, but I think only two or three are important.” “No problem,” he said, “We can enlarge them to your satisfaction, or pick out the parts of the film you want to enlarge, then we’ll go out to eat. By the time we’re back, the prints will be dry. We can have a good look at them.” “Can you handle all this by yourself?” “Of course. I’m ready, I’ll come to pick you up shortly.” “Okay, but you have to give me half an hour to bathe and dress.” “I’ll be there on time in half an hour,” he said. Peggy hung up the phone, rushed to take a bath, her heart swelling with an unusual joy because Don hadn’t abandoned her, hadn’t left her to face these issues alone.
Don Kimberly proudly showed Peggy around his apartment, pointing out the framed photos on the wall. “Are these all your work?” she asked. “Every single one,” he said, “I love the dramatic effect of clouds; you can see from these photos that I favor storm clouds over the sea and heavy downpours. Of course, I’ve intentionally dramatized them with a red pen. But you can feel the power, the surge of the storm, the might of nature.” “These are amazing,” she said, “They’re – very believable, very real. In a way, they symbolize life.” “I’m glad you like them. Now, would you like to see the darkroom?” “Of course.” “Let’s look at those films, Peggy.” She handed him the envelope. Ignoring the photos, he carefully examined the negatives. “Oh,” he said, “this girl used a pretty sophisticated camera.” “How do you know without seeing the camera?” “You can tell at a glance from the film,” he said, “These films are very clear. That means she had a coupled rangefinder and a high-quality lens. That’s why I wanted to look at the negatives instead of the photos; the negatives tell everything. Often, cheap lenses can produce decent exposures, but once you start enlarging, the photos get fuzzy. Let’s enlarge a few right away.” “Where’s the darkroom?” she asked. He laughed: “This is a bachelor apartment; there’s a pantry outside the kitchen, much bigger than I need, so I’ve sealed it off and installed running water, turning it into a darkroom. Come on in, I want to show you my studio.” He led Peggy into the darkroom, showing her two enlargers. One used what he called “cold light,” and the other used a condenser to enhance clarity. Kimberly poured some chemicals into a stainless steel tray: “These photos will be enlarged in a snap. What are you thinking, Peggy?” “I want to ask you something, it might not be my business.” “What is it?” “Do you know about Stella’s physical condition?” “I do.” “You,” she said, “that is to say – you -” “You’re asking if I’m the guy?” “Yes.” “No.” He paused for a moment, then continued, “I’ve known Stella for quite some time. I first met her when she was working at a café. She was a pleasant, likable kid. I saw her several times, and then I was appointed to a committee for selecting a ‘Queen’ for a local celebration. Many girls lined up in swimsuits, and I was surprised to see Stella Lin among them. I believe knowing her did not affect my judgment. Anyway, I voted for her, and the other two judges did as well. She was elected the ‘Queen’ of the organization, that was three years ago. Since then, she’s put on weight, but back then – oh, she had a really beautiful figure.”
“Go on,” said Peggy, and then added, “I mean, if you want to talk about it.”
“I do want to talk. I want you to know how things were. She called to thank me for voting for her, and I congratulated her on winning the beauty contest with her own merits. For a while after that, I lost contact with her. Then, she called again, saying she really wanted to leave that small town and go to the city. I guess she must have encountered some heartache.”
“That’s exactly the part I’m interested in,” Peggy said.
“Why?”
“Because I’m trying to recreate Stella’s life.”
“Actually,” Don Kimberley said, “I don’t know much about her background, Peggy. Do you believe that?”
“Of course, I believe you.”
