Edvard [2]

He doesn't sell many movie posters; it just doesn't seem possible to generate sales without customers. We've all seen the mobster movie where Al Capone launders money through some dry cleaning business. Why not a poster shop? The other night as I walked by, the door to the back room was left open, allowing a heavy, yellow light to make its way into the store. Our shopkeeper was asleep at his desk, take-out box left open. Pausing long enough to take in a scene from the back room, I noticed two men sitting at a green, '70s-style card table. They were smoking. One man was leaning forward with his palm on his forehead, cigarette dangling. The other was leaning back, arms folded across his chest. You can only imagine their dilemma: "I don't think ol' Edvard is gonna' keep us underground for long, Lukas. His hearse, those glasses, everything about 'im is too obvious." Casson was sitting up straight now, gesturing expansively with his meaty left hand, cigarette still dangling. "We all know that by now, Cass. It's only a matter of time. Our man Edvard has a lot of history in the company, but his history lessons 'bout movies or old friends don't get us anywhere now. Everything's changed."