Page 45 of Fatal Fame
The drive to Tupper Lake didn’t take too long. Small settlements gave way to dense forest, and the roads narrowed from state highways to county routes that wound through pine forest where cell phone coverage became spotty and GPS signals struggled to maintain accuracy. It was the kind of terrain that attracted people who valued privacy above convenience, who preferred isolation to the scrutiny that came with modern connectivity.
Tupper Lake itself was a working-class community that had seen better decades, built around industries that had either moved away or been replaced by automation. The downtown showed signs of efforts to attract tourists and retirees, but underneath the fresh paint and hopeful signage lay the bones of a place that had learned to make do with less.
Gideon's DVD rental store sat on Park Street between a lawyer's office and a dental practice, occupying a narrow storefront that looked like it had been squeezed into space never intended for retail use. The hand-painted sign above the door read "Retro Media" in faded letters that suggested the businesshad been struggling for years to maintain relevance in an increasingly digital world.
Mia pushed through the door, triggering a bell that announced her arrival. The interior was exactly what she'd expected and somehow more, cramped aisles lined with shelves that stretched from floor to ceiling, packed with VHS tapes and DVDs arranged in categories that followed logic only their owner understood.
Lots of posters that had seen better days covered the walls.
The smell hit her immediately, mustiness mixed with old plastic and deteriorating magnetic tape. One entire room was devoted to VHS collections, their colorful covers creating a wall of nostalgia for movies and television shows that most people now watched through streaming services. Another room housed DVDs arranged by genre, decade, and what appeared to be personal preference rather than any recognizable organizational system.
"Help you find something?" The voice came from the back of the store, where a man in his late forties sat behind a makeshift desk constructed from what looked like repurposed furniture. He was slightly overweight with a receding hairline and the pale complexion of someone who spent most of his time indoors. His A-Team T-shirt looked like it had been purchased when the show first aired.
"Just browsing," Mia said, making her way through the narrow aisles while taking in the scope of his collection. "This is quite an operation you have here."
"Two DVDs for seven-fifty, or one for four-fifty," he said without looking up from whatever he was reading. "Best prices in the county."
Mia paused beside a shelf of action movies from the 1980s, studying the familiar covers while formulating her approach."You know, I can buy one of these for a few bucks at Walmart, or get them from a thrift store for fifty cents each."
The man looked up, his expression shifting from bored indifference to mild irritation.
"You ever heard of streaming?" Mia asked, turning to face him directly.
"Funny. I would have you know that people rent from here every day. Like vinyl, some people haven't lost their taste for the past. There's something to be said for physical media, for actually owning something instead of paying monthly fees to access content that could disappear at any time. People like the old ways."
"Is that why you focus on cold cases from the past?"
The question stopped him cold. He set down the magazine he'd been reading and studied her with new attention, his casual demeanor replaced by something more alert and potentially dangerous.
"Who are you? And how do you know that?"
"I know a fellow sleuth when I see one."
"Bullshit," he said, standing up and moving toward the front door. The sound of the deadbolt turning echoed through the cramped space. "How about you answer that question again, and this time tell me the truth."
Mia felt a moment of unease as she realized she was now locked in a confined space with a man she didn't know, in a town where nobody was expecting her. But something in his manner suggested curiosity rather than genuine threat, and she decided to stand her ground rather than show fear.
"Settle down," she said with more confidence than she felt. "I was referred to you by Evelyn Cross. The name is Mia Sutherland. I'm from High Peaks, and I'm working the Hale case."
The mention of Evelyn's name had an immediate effect. His posture relaxed slightly, though he remained standing between Mia and the locked door. "Evelyn sent you?"
"She said there was a blogger in Tupper Lake who'd been working this case longer than she had. Someone with sources and insights I wouldn't find anywhere else." She paused. "Oh, and you would do well in unlocking the door," Mia continued, noting his continued blocking of her exit. "It wouldn't do you much good.”
“Why?”
“My father enrolled both my brother and me in mixed martial arts from a young age. I could place you in an armbar in seconds and snap your arm like a twig if I wanted to."
Instead of the intimidation she'd expected, her threat produced a roar of laughter that seemed to fill the entire store. "Holy cow, you really are Hugh Sutherland's granddaughter, aren't you? That old bastard used to say exactly the same kind of thing when he was breaking up bar fights."
The reference to her grandfather caught Mia off guard. "You knew Hugh?"
"Know him. Past tense might be premature." Gideon moved back to unlock the door, his entire demeanor shifting from suspicious to amused. "Gideon Marks. And yes, I've been working the Hale case since the beginning. Some cases grab you and don't let go."
With the tension defused, Mia found herself genuinely curious about the man who'd created this shrine to outdated technology while pursuing amateur investigation into unsolved crimes. "What got you interested in the case?"
"Same thing that gets me interested in all of them, the questions that don't get answered, the evidence that doesn't get followed up on, the witnesses who suddenly develop amnesia when investigators come calling. Besides, it occurred in my neckof the woods." Gideon settled back into his chair, gesturing for Mia to take a seat on what appeared to be a repurposed bar stool. "The Hale murders had all the warning signs of a case that was being steered away from certain conclusions."
"By who?"
