Page 11 - Just Deserts

The Decimator

A wizened septuagenarian opened the door. He squinted
against the late morning light, scanning the salient features of his
caller.
“Miss Palazzio?”
“Yes. Thank you very much for allowing me to come to your
home, Mr. Jenkins.” She was a very pleasant-looking, well-
groomed young woman in a smartly-tailored pink suit and ruffled
white blouse.
“Well, please come in. You’ll have to forgive the mess; my
housekeeping has become a bit haphazard of late.” He tried to
avoid staring at her legs, long expanses of which were visible
below the hem of her fashionably short skirt.
“Oh, I think it is perfectly charming in here. You have so
many interesting things to look at. I can see that you had many
important jobs at the studio. Let me take a look at that photo on the
wall: isn’t that Sonny Tufts? Of course it is, and he signed it for you!
Before I get carried away, Mr. Jenkins, here is my card: you can
always leave a message at the museum switchboard if I’m not in my
office.”
The old man took the heavily embossed business card and
peered at the rococo script through his spectacles. “Krystal Lynn
Palazzio, MFA. Assistant Curator. Hollywood Historical
Museum.” He mouthed the words while she flitted about the
shabby living room, stopping to exclaim with wonder at each trinket
and trophy related to the local film industry.
“Well,” she said, a bit breathlessly, coming to rest a few
inches from her myopic host. “I really should get down to
business, shouldn’t I? Mr. Jenkins, did you know you were written up
in our museum’s archives? No? You were a very highly-rated film
editor once upon a time.”
He spread his gnarled hands in a gesture of self-deprecation. “Oh,
I never got an Oscar, but that’s just studio politics. I considered
myself a craftsman doing a job, and I never lacked for work. In fact,
while a lot of men were bouncing all over town looking for a break, I

10