Wildwater Photography?”
“No, and I really don’t care.”
Birdy glanced at Joe, hurt. Joe gestured for him to go on.
“We’ve got cameras placed on the banks of the Snake River,” Birdy said. “Where the rapids are. We take pictures of the rafters when they come through the whitewater. The rafters usually don’t even know it, because they’re having too much fun or they’re too scared to look for the cameras.
Then, at the takeout spots, we pass out flyers saying the rafters can buy photos of themselves shooting the rapids if they come into town to my shop. We have proof sheets ready by the time they get here that they can look at, and I sell the shots either as prints or I can put them on a disk.
About five to seven percent of the rafters decide they want pictures made of their Snake River experience.”
As Birdy talked, Joe began to relax. Birdy had made his sales pitch often enough that he sounded comfortable. Joe could imagine Ennis’s mind racing with the possibilities of what he was being told.
“Of course,” Pi interjected, “that means ninetyfive percent of the photos aren’t sold to anyone. Sometimes, they turn out to be the most interesting shots taken.”
Stop there, Joe gestured to her.
“What the fuck?” Ennis said. “What are you telling me exactly?”
“Just that we get a lot of pictures we don’t quite know what to do with,” Birdy said.
Pi leaned forward, and Joe mouthed, No! She sat back, pouting.
“So,” Ennis said, his voice hushed, “are you telling me your cameras shot all of the rafters on the river today?”
Birdy looked at Joe, fear in his eyes. He obviously didn’t know how to answer the question, how to parse his words so he wasn’t lying. The fact was, Birdy’s cameras shot only rafts for companies that enrolled in his program and agreed to tape photocells on their rafts that would signal the remote cameras to work. All the other rafts, including the Ennis raft, would have passed by unnoticed.
“Mr. Ennis,” Pi said, while Joe cringed in anticipation, “what we’re saying is that we got a lot of pictures we just hate to see go to waste. Some real prizewinners.”
Okay, Joe thought, signaling her. That was vague enough.
“Jesus Fucking Christ,” Ennis growled.
“We thought you’d find that interesting,” Pi said, beaming at Joe and yanking an imaginary hangman’s noose above her head.
“Would you consider possibly selling the photos you took today?” Ennis asked.
“Sell them?” Pi said innocently.
“You know what I’m talking about,” Ennis said. “Quit fucking around. I want to look at them, and maybe I could buy some of them. I want you to bring them to me.”
Tassell’s deputy sneezed in the back of the room.
Ennis went silent.
Joe covered his face with his hands.
“Who was that?” Ennis asked.
Birdy looked stricken. His wide forehead was beaded with sweat. Pi, for the first time, looked scared.
Then Joe mouthed, The dog.
“Just the dog,” Pi said to the phone.
“The dog?”
“Pi feeds the dog a vegan diet,” Birdy said, running with it. “He doesn’t get enough protein so he catches a lot of colds. I keep telling her that dogs need to eat meat, even if people don’t.”
“Dogs can survive perfectly well without meat,” Pi said heatedly, meaning it. “They can get their protein from soy and other natural products.”
“Jesus, you people,” Ennis said disgustedly.
Again, Joe relaxed.
“Mr. Ennis,” Birdy said, “we can’t bring the pictures there. They’re here on the computer. But if you want to, you can come look at them at the shop.”
Again, silence. Joe guessed Ennis was deliberating what to do.
“Has anyone else seen the photos?” Ennis asked.
“No, sir.”
“Does anyone else know about the photos?”
“Not yet, sir,” Birdy said, hanging the yet out there.
“Sit tight. What’s the address?” Ennis barked. “I’ll be there in thirty minutes.”
When the call was concluded, Birdy flopped forward into his arms as if completely spent, and Pi pumped her fist in the air and screamed, “Yes!”
