88: Photogenic – Pt. 1

“There! How’s that?” Mike asked, giving his latest acquisition a small adjustment. It was a painting of a swinging club scene. He smiled as he looked over at his partner, awaiting her reaction.

“It’s nice, Mike, but…”

“But what?”

“I don’t know—it doesn’t really fit, does it?”

“What do you mean? All of my décor is retro.”

“Yeah, but your style is more 1940s noir. This is more—1920s jazz age.”

“Nah! I think it’s great. It reminds me of those early films like with Bogart.”

“Who starred in classic 1940s noir like The Maltese Falcon.” Mike quieted for a moment in deep thought and Victoria laughed. “My point exactly.”

“Whatever! I’m keeping it!”

Victoria smiled and gave Mike a pat on his shoulder before moving back toward her desk. “Alrighty, Mikey. I’m out of here. I have a lot more packing to do and want to get to it while I’m motivated.”

“I can’t believe you’ve finally taken that next step.”

“And I can’t believe you beat me to it! In speaking of, how have things been with you and Aria? Have you popped the question yet?”

“Almost.”

“Almost? How do you ‘almost’ propose?”

“Well, see, we went out to dinner and were having such a great time I asked if she wanted to go for a walk rather than just head home. We did. And while we were walking, I looked over at her and just the way the light was touching her made her seem so—angelic. Vik, I was ready to drop to one knee right there.”

“So? What happened?”

“I got cold feet. I started thinking about all the ways she could say no. If it was the right time for her. She’s been talking about this new assignment at work and I—I don’t know.”

“MICHAEL!”

“I know! I’m such a scemo.”

“Only if you keep that ring, that very gorgeous and super expensive ring, in your pocket rather than give it to the woman you love.”

“Duly noted, partner.”

Victoria said her goodbyes and headed home. Meanwhile, Mike sat back behind his desk going over a few of their latest cases. It was always nice having the late hours to work in quiet. And while he had taken Victoria’s words to heart, he’d much rather distract himself with an investigation than come up with a snazzy proposal at the moment.

For an hour, Mike read and reread the same file. It was evident he wasn’t getting anywhere with this case, just wasting time ignoring the obvious. He stood and stretched, his eyes moving back to the picture on the wall. “1920s,” he said aloud, Victoria’s words echoing in his head. He didn’t want to admit that she was right, but the more he studied the painting, the more convinced he became.

“Still, looks like a great time,” he sighed and concentrated on a couple sitting at the bottom left of the image.

Near the center of the painting, a flashing red light caught his eye. It appeared just behind the band on stage and seemed to grow brighter as he watched it. “What the…” he whispered, focusing on the spot. The longer Mike stared, the more the rest of the scene appeared to bend and warp until he was certain he could see the subjects dancing and talking as if alive. Suddenly, a dizziness overcame him and it felt like his head was spinning.

Reacting as quickly as he could, Mike retrieved his phone from his back pocket and dialed Victoria’s number. And as he heard her voice come over the line, he shouted a hasty SOS before the call ended and he was in total blackness.

“Hello, there.” Mike awoke to the sound of a man’s voice. As his eyes opened, he could make out the figure sitting across from him. He was dressed in a gray wool suit. His dark brown hair was slicked back and nicely trimmed and his bright green eyes concentrated wholly on Mike. Squeezing his eyes tighter, Mike rubbed a shaky hand over his face as he slowly regained consciousness. “You had me worried for a second the deal didn’t shake.” Mike tried sitting up and felt his head start to spin again. “Hey, go easy there, Mac. I wouldn’t want youse flopping again.”

“What? Who are you? Where am I?” Mike asked, slowly leaning forward. “How’d I get here?”

“Whoa, there. One thing at a time, eh? The name’s…Paul,” the man said after some hesitation.

“Paul, huh?” Mike said with a simple eyeroll. He groaned as he looked around the room. He was sitting in a 1920s patterned apartment with dated wallpaper and antiquated fixtures. And the man in his company, “Paul,” seemed to speak with a thick northern accent by way of Chicago, he’d guessed. “Where am I? What is this? Are you some sort of…” Mike paused as he considered his words. Everything in him screamed this was something supernatural, but he hesitated showing his hand this early.

“Look, I know this is gonna sound a little dotty, but just hear me out, ok?” Paul stood and began pacing around the tiny living room. “Alright so we, me and the boys, was having a bull session over at the juke joint when one of the fellas let slip a doozy of a story.”

“Wait a second, ok, just wait,” Mike grunted again, sitting more erect as he took in a deep breath. “Where am I? How did I get here?”

“Yeah, yeah ok, we can start there if you’d like.”

“Yeah, I would, please. What year is this?”

“1926.”

“WHAT?!”

“Alright. Alright.” Paul blew out a breath and shook his head. “So, I uh, this uh, this dame I know, she uh, she helped me out. I asked her to, you know, use some of that tricky stuff she knows and she got her mojo working and voilà, instant Dick.”

“Hold on, I’m not following.”

“Come on, pal. You really gonna make me spell this out?” Mike sighed and Paul shrugged. “Fine, she’s a bit of a—witch.”

Mike’s expression didn’t change. He’d expected as much. He wasn’t mistaken, he’d been sucked into a painting on his office wall. If that didn’t scream witchcraft, he didn’t know what did. “That doesn’t seem to surprise you.”

“No. It doesn’t. What I’d like to know is how I got…”

“Pulled into my world?” At those words, Mike’s eyes widened, slightly. “Yeah, I know you’re not from my time. I didn’t want a copper from around here. They’re all on the take. And if they ain’t, they’re only a stone’s throw away from it. So, I said the words, I burned the page and I got you.”

“And why exactly did you bring me here?”

“It’s like I was saying. I heard from one of my guys that some big palooka is looking to have me greased.”

“Greased?”

“Bopped, popped, knocked off, cut down, rubbed out—zotzed. You get it? The point is, this fella here would be no more. The thing is, I have no ideas who could be the button man. And that’s where you come in.”

“Yeah, I know the terminology. I just—what exactly am I supposed to do?”

Paul waved his arms around and sighed, “What do you mean? You’re a cop. I need you to do the cop thing and help me.”

“MIKE?!” Victoria shouted as she rushed into their office. The lights were on and his truck was still parked in the lot. “Mike? Michael? Where are you?” she again called for her partner as she frantically searched the building. Grabbing her phone, she punched in his number and waited for it to ring.

But when it did, she was surprised to hear it coming from the floor beside his desk. “Oh no. Mikey.”

“Victoria?” Derrick stepped into the office behind her. In her haste to make it to her partner, she’d called him from the road. “What’s going on? You sounded hysterical on the phone.”

“It’s Mike. He called, he was panicked, he wasn’t able to tell me what was happening before the line went dead. When I got here, I found this,” she said, showing Derrick the portable device. “Something’s happened to him, Derrick. We have to find him.”

“I know, Victoria, and we will. I just—I just have one question.”

“Yeah, of course, what is it?”

“Who’s Mike?”

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