Rodney looked at Mark. “Sure. Follow me.”
Mark started to follow Rodney out the door. He looked over at Alicia: “Thank you.”
Alicia nodded. “Take your time, I’m usually here ‘til about ten. I’ll send someone to check on you later.”
Outside the hotel, Scott pulled up in his rusty, old car as the sun was just beginning to set.
Ellen stepped out of the hotel. She wore a slinky black dress and heels. She opened the door to Scott’s car and slid into the passenger’s seat.
Scott looked her up and down as she got in. “Whoa! You look terrific.”
“Well, I thought I was going to be riding in a Lamborghini,” Ellen said.
Scott slipped the old Mitsubishi into gear. “Yeah, about that.” Scott pulled out of the drive as Ellen pulled her seat belt over her. “It’s still at the detailer’s.”
Scott looked over at Ellen, who greeted his lame joke with a smile.
Scott and Ellen sat at a table, finishing their meals. Their wine glasses were nearly empty.
“…maybe medical school,” Scott said. “The hospital was going to fund it.”
Ellen reached across the table and touched Scott’s hand. She turned his hand over and looked at his palm. “Great hands. I think you’d make a good doctor. What are you going to do?”
Scott shrugged. “Not sure. Maybe go dancing?”
“I mean with your life?” Ellen said.
Scott grinned at Ellen as he held her hand. “I’ll figure out something. How about dancing?”
“Sure,” Ellen said.
Scott dropped three twenties into the tray holding the bill and stood.
Ellen stood with him, taking her napkin from her lap and placing it on the table. She took Mark’s hand as they left the restaurant.
The Oregon District was where all the college students hung out. This was a weeknight, though, and only one of the bars had live music. Scott led Ellen onto the dance floor. He pulled her to him as the club band beat out the easy melody of a slow dance.
Ellen leaned in close, putting her hands on his shoulders. She squeezed. “Feels like someone’s been working out.”
“It’s part of the job,” Scott said. “Gotta’ stay in shape to treat our patients.”
“I thought physical therapy was all done with machines now,” Ellen said.
“We don’t have access to a lot of equipment at the hospital. Most of my work is done old school. Real hands on.”
Ellen looked into his eyes. “I like the sound of that.”
Scott spun her slowly around.
Ellen put her head on his shoulder. “I keep thinking about that old building, the one with the bars on the windows. Any idea what’s in there?”
Scott pushed her a little bit away from him. He looked at her coldly. “Why bring that up? It’s probably just a bunch of old medical stuff.”
“Don’t take offense. I’m just curious — the reporter in me. It’s just that none of the other buildings had bars on them.”
Scott didn’t answer. In fact, he quit moving completely, even though the music was still playing.
Ellen moved in closer and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Know what else I’m curious about?” she asked.
“What’s that?” he answered, once again moving slowly with the music.
“What’s your most effective physical therapy technique?” she asked. “Say for tight muscles? Lower back?”
“Well, I have several…” Scott answered. His hands drifted lower and lower down Ellen’s back until they rested just above her butt. He began to rub gently. “But they’re hard to describe. I’d really have to show you…”
“Ummm…” Ellen said, leaning in even closer.
Mark sat in the newspaper’s ‘morgue’. A very apt name, Mark thought. He was surrounded by rows and rows of bins overflowing with microfiche copies of past newspaper issues. The darkened room, illuminated by only a few fluorescent bulbs hanging from the ceiling, added to the morbid atmosphere.
Mark had been at his research for a couple of hours. He sat at the nearly ancient microfiche reader, twisting the knobs to scroll through a story he’d found from back in the late ‘70s. His tie was loose, jacket thrown over a chair, sleeves rolled up.
Mark sighed. Another dead end. He pulled the fiche out of the machine and inserted another.
Alicia stepped in from the stairwell door.
Mark glanced over and saw Alicia shiver.
“I always hate coming down here. Have you found anything useful?”
Mark leaned back in his chair. “Just tidbits. Nothing I can use yet.” He waved at the bins of microfiche: “This stuff is ripe for digitizing. Would make it a hell of a lot easier to search.”
Alicia stepped closer to Mark, pulling her sweater closed in front of her. She dusted off one of the old chairs with a tissue, then sat down. “You’re right about that. Got a hundred K? That’s just to get started. We didn’t go digital until about nineteen-eighty. Everything before that is on this film.”
Mark looked back at the screen, glowing in the otherwise dark room. He turned a knob and the image panned across the display. “Guess it could be expensive,” Mark said.
Mark slid the film out and inserted another.
“We stay on a shoestring,” Alicia said. “Enough to stay afloat and keep our folks paid pretty well, but finding money to digitize some old archives that few people use? That’s out of the question. Besides, our business is today’s news,” Alicia waved her hand at the stacks of fiche: “not yesterday’s. You’re probably the first person to come down here in four or five months.”
“Sometimes yesterday’s news sheds light on today’s news,” Mark said.
“True enough.”
Mark pulled the fiche out of the machine, and slid in another. “This is going to take forever.”
“Did Rodney show you the index?”
Mark stopped and looked at Alicia. “There’s an index?”
Alicia shook her head. She stood up and went over to a smaller box and brought it over to Mark. “That’s what I thought… Interns! What years are you most interested in?”
“I started in nineteen-fifty. Anything between then and the seventies might be useful.”
Alicia dug an envelope about the size of an index card out of the box. From the envelope she pulled one fiche out and handed it to Mark. “The stories are indexed by year, title, and date. Should help.”
“Perfect.” Mark slid the current fiche out of the reader and inserted the index.
Alicia laid the envelope on the table beside him. “The rest of the fifties.”
Mark looked over at her and smiled. “Thanks. This will help a lot.”
Alicia peered over Mark’s shoulder as he scanned the index. “How long are you here?”
Mark looked at his watch. “I’d like to keep going until ten or so. That’s when you said you were leaving, wasn’t it?”
“Ten’s fine, but you can take all the time you need. I’ll tell Rodney to stay until you’re done. It’ll serve him right. But I meant how long are you in Dayton?”
Mark continued to scan the index. “Oh. The story is due Monday.”
“That’s not much time,” Alicia said. She seemed to think for a few moments. “Tell you what, write down the keywords you’re looking for and I’ll have Rodney and a couple of the other interns dig into it, free you up to do the real work.”
“That’d be great,” Mark said.