Deadrock (10 page)

"I'll do
it! I'll go away to college, after all!"

Max ducked too
late and caught four pairs of boxer shorts printed with huge, swarming red ants
full in the face. "Nickie!" he hollered.

"Sorry,
Max," she said, helping him out from under the underwear. "I just get
so mad when I think of her with my dad."

"Back up
a minute." He took her by the arm, overturned a wooden crate, and sat her
down. "Now, why wouldn't you think about going away to college even if they
didn't get married?"

She slumped
forward, her hair gleaming in the light of the one exposed bulb swinging from a
chain in the ceiling. "Oh, Max, get real. You've seen my dad. He can't pay
bills, he can't cook,
half
the time he leaves the house
without his keys. And now he's having these, I don't know what you'd call them,
delusions, I guess."

"Nickie,
he runs a multi-million dollar business! If he can do that, he can learn to cook
for himself."

"No, you
don't understand. My dad can handle only one facet of life at a time. He always
handled the business and my mom always took care of everything else. Then, when
she died, I sort of took over the 'everything else' part."

"But you
need to have your own life, too, Nickie," he said. "You've got to
have a chance at being a kid before you become an adult." Gnartz, I sound
just like Grandma, he thought.

"You can't
understand, Max. You can't possibly know what it's like to have a full-time job
or be responsible for bills and an apartment."

"Trust,
me, I've got a pretty good idea," he said.

"No, you've
got Mr. Bird to take care of you. You depend on him just like my dad depends on
me." She went inside the vault and began to pick up the shards of glass.
The tinkling of glass echoed slightly around the
thick,
scratched metal walls.

Max bent to
help her. "Well, what if something happened and your dad wasn't around…I
mean, what if he didn't need you anymore? Say you were suddenly free to do
anything you wanted. What would you do?"

She stopped,
cradling the pieces of glass in her palm. "That's easy. I'd go to Rome and
become an archeologist. And I'd travel all over the world, exploring sights,
working on digs…"

She
straightened up and carried the shards to the small dumpster in the corner of
the room. "But instead I'll stay here and major in business administration
and help my dad run the company."

"Don't
give up, Nickie. Things change, you know. People change, and grow." And
die, he thought.

"And
marry. I know. But I won't let them get married, Max. I swear. I'll kill Gloria
before I let her marry my dad."

That evening
after Coup Sticks Max couldn't help but gloat. "Oh, I couped you good,
Bird!" He bounced on his sagging motel bed and watched Bird drag breathlessly
in the door. "I think I'm catching on to you," he said meaningfully.
Bird didn't catch any meaning.

"May I
remind you, Max, of an ancient courtesy; 'In victory never gloat, in defeat
never make excuses'." He went to the bathroom and Max heard him turn on
the bathtub tap. "Besides, you cheated by running me to death. I'm not a
young brave, you know," said Bird from the bathroom.

"That
sounds like excuses in defeat to me," said Max.

"PPPPPbbbbhhhh,"
came the snort from the bathroom.

"Just
five minutes, Bluebell, and then the tub's mine. I need to soak my muscles,"
said Bird.

He returned to
the bedroom and saw Max, seated on the floor cross-legged, looking up
expectantly at him.

"Time for
my lesson," said Max.

"Oh.
Right. Why don't we work on meditation and relaxation," said Bird. "You
can make up a little rhyme or something if you like. I always do." He
stretched out full-length on the bed and rubbed his head against the headboard
and the soles of his feet against the footboard.

"We
meditated yesterday. I stared at the picture of the owl for eight minutes,"
said Max.

"Okay,
then today you meditate for twelve minutes. Always increase by four, Max. Four
is the sacred number." He closed his eyes and let his feet glide back and
forth on the footboard. "Four directions…"

"North,
south, east, west," recited Max.

"Four
virtues…"

"Bravery,
fortitude, generosity, fidelity," said Max.

"Four
parts to the earth…"

"Roots,
stems, leaves, fruit," said Max.

"Four
periods of time…"

"Day,
night, moon, year," said Max.

"Four
periods of human life…"

"Babyhood,
childhood, adulthood, old age! I got 'em all! You know, it's fun to actually
learn something instead of having it just put in your head," said Max.

"You did
well, Pigeon, very w…"

"Bird!
Wake up! I need you to tell me what to look for in my meditation state."

Bird opened
his eyes. "Alright, alright. Just like yesterday. Concentrate on the eye
of the owl and wait for something to appear to you. Probably an animal but not
necessarily."

"But I
already saw it - last night. It was a dog," said Max.

Bird sat up. "Ah,
a dog. Dogs are the protectors and guardians of belongings. And the Dog Society
is the police of the tribe," said Bird.

"So that's
good, a dog?"

"A dog's
a very good spirit guide, Max. You should look through your Librain for a
picture of a dog to meditate with. And while you do that, I'll just rest my
eyes." He lay down again and closed his eyes.

Just then, the
Linker buzzed in the bureau drawer. Max ran to answer it.

"Hello,
Max. It's Leo," said the voice.

"Hi Leo,
what's up? Did you get the Chief to postpone the sting?"

"I'm
sorry, Max. O'Malley convinced her we should go in on Friday."

"But that's
too soon, Leo! Ted doesn't even get murdered until Sunday!"

"I know
Max, I'm sorry, but she won't budge," said Leo.

Max paced
beside the bureau. "But I think I'm on to something, Leo." He moved
to the farthest corner of the room and covered his mouth. "Certain
financial irregularities." He checked to see if Bird was paying attention,
but the big man was stretched out still and lifeless on his bed.

"But Max,
you know how the Chief is," whined Leo.

"Then go
talk to Grandma, Leo. Tell her I need her to pull some strings. Convince her,
Leo, okay?"

"Okay,
Max, I'll do my best. Bye."

Max put the Linker
back in the drawer. "O'Malley! He wants my promotion!" said Max.

"Talk to
your dog about it," said Bird, eyes still closed.

"I
already know what to do about it. We've got to step up the investigation.
Follow Ted twenty-four hours a day!"

Bird opened
one eye. "Isn't that a little excessive?" he said.

"You
never know when we might see something. We really don't have any leads, no
sense of his enemies," said Max.

"He hasn't
got any," said Bird.

"But if we
tail him night and day we might uncover someone. Maybe even discover some secret
life, some dark side to the guy."

Bird chuckled.
"Ted Rhoades, Man of Mystery? I doubt it, Max. From what I can see, he
lives a quiet life."

"Well, let's
examine his life some more.
Like today.
Where did he
go?"

"Here and
there. Nothing out of the ordinary." Bird rolled over and turned his back
to Max.

"Well, he
must have gone to the drugstore, right?"

"Right.
Drugstore," said Bird in a drowsy voice.

"Then
where? The supermarket? When did he go to the candy store?"

"First he
went to the candy store, then the drugstore, then here and there.
So many places.
Hard to remember all..."

Max spied the
corner of a lottery ticket sticking out of Bird's back pocket.

"So,"
said Max, "first he went to the candy store, then he went Here and There.
Then of course, he went GAMBLING!" He pulled the ticket out for Bird's
pocket, rolled him over and waved it in his face.

"Uh, Max,
I realize this looks bad but-"

"I
trusted you, Bird! How are we supposed to solve this thing if you're out
gambling? And what about the Policy of Non-Involvement?"

"I swear,
Max, I haven't broken my vow," said Bird.

"But I'm
in charge! I have to know everywhere you go. If you don't watch out I'm going
to put an electronic tail on you!"

"Now Max,
you know it's against regulations to tail your partner. Williams versus Bozinsky,
remember?"

"Then don't
tempt me, Bird! And
no more investigating on your own
!
I know you've-"

Loud shaking
noises reverberated from the bathroom.

"Bluebell!
Stop that shaking or I'll take away your submarine," shouted Bird. He ran
to the bathroom door.

"Listen
to me, Bird! You've got to listen to me! Follow the rules!"

Bird took one
look in the bathroom and bounded for the outside door. "We'll talk later,
Max, I've got to get some more towels!"

"Wait,
Bird! I'm in charge!" yelled Max. Right, he thought, as Bird flew away. I'm
really in charge. He buried his head in his bed.

The Linker
buzzed.
 

"Max? It's
me, Leo, again. I speed zapped to the Broken Heart Ranch, Max, and I'm ready to
talk to your Grandma. But it's just…I'm…well, could you come with me? Your
Grandma kinda scares me."

"Leo, you
know I don't have clearance to leave here now!"

"Well,
couldn't we LightNeen you in? At least then she could hear you and see your
hologram."

"I don't
know, Leo. The
LightNeen stream could be picked up by the NSA
and they wouldn't know what it was. Probably they'd think it was a UFO or
something."

"C'mon,
Max, by the time they detect it, we'll be done."

"Okay,
Leo, but we've got to make it quick!"
       

"No
problem, Max, I've got it all set up. Attach your viewer."

Max unbuckled
his belt, unzipped the hidden compartment on the inside of the leather, and
pulled out a pair of collapsible spectacles. He molded the soft, flexible ear
stems over his ears and clipped the Linker antennae to the nose bridge.

The Linker
buzzed for thirty seconds, then the green, wooded, familiar sight of Grandma's "little
backyard," as she called it, came into view. Leo held the Linker up and he
and Max searched for Grandma in the immense garden surrounding the Broken Heart
Ranch House.

The BrainBlog
articles about Grandma always made a big fuss over the twentieth-century ranch
house that she set smack in the middle of an English-style garden. An English
garden that she had set smack in the middle of the Great Prairie. But then,
everything Grandma did was a little eccentric.

Max had
brought Leo to the Broken Heart many times. Each visit held the unique delights
of Mr. Louis' delectable, bountiful meals and the sport of chasing each other
through the garden's intricate hedge maze – something Leo never tired of -
even if Max already knew each twist, turn, and blind alley by heart.

"There
she is," said Leo.

"Hold me
higher, said Max.

Leo clipped
the Linker to his shirt and directed his body toward Grandma.

"Okay, I
see her," said Max.

Grandma knelt
next to the row of holes Mr. Louis dug for her near the east wall of the hedge
maze.

"Leo,
what a pleasant surprise. And Max!" She talked to Max's holographic face
floating above Leo's chest. Nice of you to drop in, too, dear." She turned
to Mr. Louis. "Imagine, Mr. Louis, my grandson LightNeen me all the way
from a hundred years ago. And it isn't even my birthday."

"Hi,
Grandma, hi, Mr. Louis," said Max. From Grandma's tone of voice, Max got
the sinking feeling that maybe this wasn't the best way to approach her.

"Hey, Maxie!
How are ya! Looking good, buddy!" said Mr. Louis. He waved his trowel like
a hanky.

"Are you
on a – what did they call it then – a coffee break, dear?"

"Uh, not
exactly, Grandma, I – I'll let Leo explain." He wished with all his
might for a cosmic storm to disconnect them and get him out of this awkward
situation. But you could never count on a meteor shower when you needed one.

Leo unclipped
the Linker and placed it on a large granite boulder so that Max hovered above
and had a clear view of them all. Leo looked at Grandma, and seemed for a
moment to be on the verge of bolting, But he gathered up his courage and dove
in. "Mrs. Livingstone, I am here on a mission of extreme importance,"
he said, formally.

Grandma smiled,
unconcerned, and dropped a Daf-faux-dil bulb into the dark earth. Leo lowered
himself awkwardly, trying not to dirty the knees of his pants.

"You see,
Mrs. Livingstone, I talked to the Chief and she's set on going ahead with the
Spinelli sting on Friday. O'Malley's due to go on another case and he's
complaining about the delays."

"Yes,
Leo," said Grandma, packing the earth around the synthetic bulb.

"Now you
see, Friday is two days before the capsule closes and Ted gets killed. Max can't
come until Sunday, at least. So he'll miss the sting," said Leo.

Grandma
planted another bulb.

"And if
Max isn't here, the whole case could fall apart. A dangerous criminal could be
turned loose on an unwary society," Leo added ominously.

Grandma shot
Max a look that could melt glass even over the span of a hundred years. "You
know, Leo, Max and I had a discussion about this before he left and we decided
that it might be a good experience for him to miss an occasional sting."

Max squirmed
from his seat on the bed and felt her disapproval fill the room.

She opened a
small mesh bag of bulbs and handed one to Leo. "I think it's too bad you'll
miss the sting, Max. But it's in your capable hands now, Leo."

Leo looked at
the bulb in his hand and turned it over, trying to decide which end to put in
the hole. He laid it sideways and quickly covered up the hole.

"But Mrs.
Livingstone, that's not all there is to the story." He glanced nervously
over his shoulder to Max's face. "Could, uh…could we talk privately?"
he asked her.

"Of
course, Leo." She waved a finger at Max. "Turn him off."

"Sorry,
Max," said Leo, pushing the MUTE button.

"Hey,
wait a minute! Turn me back on!" Max stared at Leo and Grandma talking
over the Daf-faux-dil bulbs and mentally called up the Lipreading Mode on his
infochips. Ha! He thought about the times he eavesdropped on Grandma and Mr.
Louis discussing him at a distance. Just like old times. He watched Leo bend
toward Grandma and talk earnestly.

"To be
honest with you, Mrs. Livingstone, Max told me to come and ask you to bring him
back. But, well, I wasn't going to do it," he said, hanging his head.

What?
thought
Max.

"You know
Max. He's real competent, takes charge of things. He doesn't know this, but
when we do well on a case everybody thinks Max is the reason. So this time I
just wanted to do well on my own."

"Perfectly
natural reaction, dear," said Grandma.

Mr. Louis
patted Leo's hand sympathetically
,
then, setting a
bulb on the dirt, he pounded it into the ground with one blow of his fist.