Deadrock (14 page)

Max nodded.
Just like the iNose Smellcatcher he'd wanted. But Grandma said it was not only
ridiculous-looking but it distracted you from where you were walking.

Nickie smiled
sadly. "I hated being the new girl. Everyday I went to the library and
pretended to study during lunch. I sat in a corner and ate my sandwich behind a
giant dictionary. Then one day I looked over and saw Jen eating her lunch
behind an atlas. We've been best friends ever since."

That old pang
of loneliness surged into Max's chest. Every once in a while the longing for a
real friend his own age overcame him.

"Everything
is such a popularity contest," Nickie sighed. "I even got bummed out
because, even if we did have a house, no one would TP it."

"Teepee?"

"Toilet-paper?
A house? You know, kids get together at night and decorate the trees and bushes
in front of your house with toilet paper?"

"And this
is a good thing?" Maybe it's like
strobe-lighting
someone's locker, Max thought wistfully. There were still some moments he
missed about school.

"Anyway,
my dad could see I felt bad about it so he sent me to the store for milk just
to get me out of the apartment," she said.

Just like Mr.
Louis taking me to Kowkeeper Kountry on my birthday every year while Grandma
got the house ready for my surprise party, thought Max.

"And all
the way to the store I'm moping about having to always do things for him."

The way I feel
when Grandma asks me to stop by Death Row to hand out her business cards,
thought Max.

"When I
got home I plunked down the milk and went straight to my room," said
Nickie. "And you know what? He had TP'd my room!"

"Really?"

"
Yeah, toilet paper streaming from ceiling to floor, over my bed, my
desk, everywhere.
I looked around and there he was, giggling in the
doorway."

"Pretty
nice," said Max.

"Yeah. The
trouble is, I was so touched by it that I…I acted mad. I don't really know why,
but I started to tear down the paper, slammed my door…"

Max thought of
the time Grandma forbid him to go on an all-night hike at Desolation Tract. He
had the money to pay for it himself but she wouldn't give in. So that night he
refused to eat his favorite homemade chalk chowder, even though he knew Mr. Louis
had slaved over it for hours.

"I never
told him how I really felt," said Nickie.

Oh no, thought
Max. No tears, Not again. This girl leaks more than any faucet I've ever seen.

"And now
I feel like I'm losing him, Max. What should I do?"

As he studied
her tear-tracked, freckled little face, something just made him do it. He took
her chin in his hand and tipping his head, he gently kissed her.

The wind whistled
past his ears as he sailed up and up into the blue.
The
speed, the rush, the feeling of weightlessness.
The
stillness in his body as he watched the silent earth drop away from him.
He was suspended in that one microsecond when he stopped flying up and just
lagged in the air, motionless.

What do you
know, he thought, as they parted in pleasure and
embarrassment.
You don't even have to be bucked from the back of a horse to get this.

Max would have
been happy to spend the rest of the afternoon in the Park with Nickie but she
was on a quest for the perfect shoes.

"Tell you
what, though," she said. "You can come over for dinner tonight."

"I hope
you're a better cook than a horsewoman," he teased.

"Six o'clock,
Smart
arm
," she said. "And
don't be late or I'll eat without you."

He watched her
walk away, barefoot in the grass, her pretty red hair floating on the breeze.
He felt light and free as a – holy cosmos! He'd completely forgotten
about Bird! He could be anywhere by now!

Max pulled the
elec-tail stylus from his pocket and slid the lever along the shaft to the
word, CO-ORDS. The long, narrow display slot blinked the numbers 144, 87. "One-four-four,
eight-seven,
one-four-four
, eight-seven," he
mumbled to himself.

He flipped the
clasp of the stylus and unfolded it to form a flat screen. He followed the map's
144 coordinate line with one finger and the 87 coordinate
line
with another until his fingers met. "There he is …at the corner of –
hey! He's still in the office. Huh." Max relaxed and strolled back to the
office, enjoying the sunshine, the crowded sidewalks and the beauty of New
York.

A block from
the Rhoades office building he ducked into a convenience store and bought a
cherry Slurpee. He dug in his pocket, and when he pulled out a five-dollar
bill, the elec-tail tumbled out. He waited for his change and glanced at the
display on the stylus.
One-four-four
, eight-eight.
Good, no change. Maybe I can trust that old Bird, after all.

He sucked a
long, cool slurp of his drink.
One-four-four
,
eight-eight, one-four-four, eight-eight, he stepped to the beat of the numbers
in his head.
One-four-four
, eight-
eight
? Wasn't it seven?

Max began to
run, checking the stylus coordinates as he neared the office building.
One-four-four
, eight-nine, one-four-four, nine-zero! He's
moving west – or is that north? Max scanned the street, raced around the
corner and caught sight of Bird's braided head bobbing above the crowd in the
distance.

I knew it! He's
off again! I can't trust this guy for a minute! Max turned at the next corner
and saw Bird hide unsuccessfully behind a lamppost. Max looked beyond and saw
Ted stopped at the corner for a red light.

Max was
flooded with guilt. Gnartz, the guy's just doing his job! Just following Ted
like I told him to. I guess he's on it, but still…

Max followed
Bird as he trailed Ted two more blocks to the bus stop. Bird watched as the bus
came and Ted got on the bus through the front door. Max waited for Bird to lag
back and enter the bus's back door. Bird lagged but the bus left. Bird smiled to
himself and crossed the street.

I was right
all along, thought Max, mentally backpedaling from the guilt he felt a moment
before. Bird ambled along, turning down progressively seedier streets until he
entered a card room.

Gambling! He's
actually gambling, thought Max.

Max peered in
the scummy front window and saw Bird sitting at a table, talking to the dealer.
He didn't seem to be playing, but he did give the dealer some money and then
got up to leave.

Max scrambled
for cover behind a dumpster, then followed Bird five blocks to an Off-Track Betting
location. Bird remained inside only a few minutes, then left, papers in hand.

Probably wants
to check out the teams first before he makes a bet, thought Max. Sure enough,
Bird went to a newsstand, bought a paper and turned to the sports section.

Do I know this
guy or do I know this guy? Max thought with satisfaction.

Bird studied
the page when the man from the shoeshine stand next to the newsstand said, "Hey
mister, I bet you a shoeshine I know where you got your shoes."

"You'd
never guess right in a hundred years," laughed Bird.

"You got
them on the ground," said the man triumphantly.

Bird shrugged
and took a seat. "First time I ever got my moccasins shined," he
said.

Max waited
impatiently for the shoeshine to end. He pulled out his phone to get a photo of
Bird looking over the betting forms. Now I'll have proof of his gambling, he
thought.

But Bird was
moving on toward the subway station on the corner. Max followed him down the
steps and hid behind a broad woman with a suitcase. He saw Bird take the train
marked PENN STATION. Max waited and slipped through the back doors of the same
train car just as they were closing. Bird rocked with the train's motion and
whistled as he consulted his betting form, unaware of Max watching him. At the
station, Bird jumped from the train and quickly consulted the giant Departures
board. Bird sprinted to a new train and Max struggled to keep up. But Bird
hopped onboard and the train doors closed just as Max ran down the ramp.

"Excuse
me sir," Max asked a man playing the bagpipes by the track. "Can you
tell me where that train is going?"

"Stops at
Belmont Stakes. You know, kid, the racetrack," he said.

It took Max
almost a half-hour to find another train to the racetrack. He even went outside
the station and tried to convince a taxi driver that he'd mail him the fare,
but the guy just laughed. Gnartz, nobody trusts anybody in this city!

At last he
arrived at the racetrack and easily sneaked inside the gates with the crush of
the crowd. But as he searched the tiers of faces lining the track he knew that
finding someone even as distinctive as Bird would be like looking for a tick on
a mustang's backside.

Max pulled out
his elec-tail, pushed the TRACE knob and the stylus hummed very softy. "It's
like the game, HOTTER, COLDER," he remembered his dad teaching him. "Just
follow the sound and when it gets louder, you're getting closer to your perp."
That summer of his seventh year, his dad and he had traced a dozen stray cows,
a few hundred prairie dogs and one escaped convict. Grandma didn't know about
the convict. Good thing, too, thought Max. She'd have skinned us both alive if she'd
found out.

He turned to
his right and walked slowly, listening for any change in volume. The humming
seemed to pick up a bit. He followed the steady increase in sound up three
levels of bleachers and toward the vacant end of the stands, staying in the
shadows as he climbed. I'm getting waaaarmer, he told himself.

"Careful,"
his dad's words warned. "When the trailing is too easy it could be a trap."
Max stopped and sat just behind a pair of elderly twin sisters in matching
feathered hats. He scanned the bleachers and finally spotted Bird ten rows
below and a few sections to the left. Max moved left and sat a few rows above
Bird, directly behind a woman in a muu-muu and a yellow sun visor. He got out
the Bugger, shoved it under his shirt and directed it toward Bird.

Bird studied
his racing form, then nodded to the man beside him, a cheerful old geezer with
a red-veined nose.

"Elmer's
Glue looks good in the fifth," said the Geezer.

"Think
so?" said Bird. "What about Maple Sugar?"

"Slow as
molasses," said the Geezer. "Stick with Elmer's."

Bird nodded
and marked his form. Max waited for Bird to go to the betting window, but he
remained in his seat throughout the race.

"Aaaannnd
Elmer's Glue comes in dead last," said the race announcer over the loud
speaker.

Bird gave the
Geezer a questioning look.

"He stuck
in the gate," said the Geezer.

Bird sighed
and unbuttoned his shirt. He lay back against the bench behind him and soaked
in the sun.

"What do
you think about Toto Two in the eighth?" asked the woman in the muu-muu.

"Naw,
traveled too much this year," said the Geezer.

"Vanna's
Vowels?" asked the muu-muu woman.

"Too
distracted. Doesn't mind her P's and Q's."

"Snowball
Fight?" suggested Bird, pointing to his form.

"Melts in
the heat," advised the Geezer.

"So who
do
you like?" asked the muu-muu
woman.

"Rosemary's
Baby. Kinda young, but runs like the devil," said the Geezer.

Again, Max
waited for Bird to go bet but the big man only leaned forward as the horses
lined up at the gate and didn't move from his seat.

"Aaaannnd
it's Rosemary's Baby by a length!" said the race announcer.

The Geezer
shook Bird's hand and headed for the Pay Window.

"You
coming?" he called up to the muu-muu woman.

"No. I
backed Cinderella Story," she said.

"Hmmmph,"
said the Geezer, "glass leg."

Max watched
three more races before Bird got up to leave. Max debated about confronting
Bird there at the track or in the privacy of the motel room. It would be so
satisfying to catch Bird in the act but it really should be done privately.
Besides, it was 4:00 already and he had to take a shower before he went to
Nickie's at 6:00. I'll talk to him before I leave, thought Max. Maybe I can
even get the guy to confess and go home!

That thought
occupied his mind on the long train trip back to the city. He pictured the
Mayor congratulating him not only on solving the case, but ridding the force of
a bad cop, too. He pictured Bird turning in his badge and was surprised to find
he felt…what was it? Remorse? Admit it Max, you like the guy, he thought. He
drives you crazy, but you like the guy. That revelation startled him so much
that he missed his stop and lost twenty minutes of precious time.

On the walk
from the subway to the motel, he examined his options. I could turn him in.
Tonight. Then Bird would probably be scrubbed from the force immediately. Or I
could give him another chance, but only if he'd agree to stop gambling
immediately and get help for his addiction when we got back. Yeah, that's it. I
don't want to ruin the guy, but he's got to be stopped. Okay, I'll be firm and
scare him a little, then give him his second chance.

Max stopped
just outside the motel room door to adjust his face into a firm-but-fair
expression. As usual, Bird missed it.

"Max! How
was your loooovely day in the park?"

"Shut up,
Bird!" And here I was feeling sorry for the guy, he thought. "And
where's Ted? You followed him all day today, right?" I'll catch him in a
lie. Just keep eye contact and look firm.

"Relax,
Max! You know, your face looks just like a five-year old who's lost his Skittles!
Anyway, Ted and Gloria just went to grab a bite to eat so I thought I'd slip
home and change clothes." He dropped his dirty shirt on the bed and went
to the dresser for a clean one.

"Bird!
You're all sunburned!" said Max. "Don't try to tell me you've been in
the office all day! It'll go easier on you if you just tell me the truth!"

"I
– I got this way watching Ted eat lunch in an outdoor café."

Max looked at
him in disbelief.

"Sure,
don't believe me!" cried Bird. "Don't trust me just because I was
once a gambler! Call my superiors, turn me in!"

"I
will
turn you in, you big, stupid dizbecile!
I followed you to the racetrack today!"

Bird stopped
ranting instantly and sat on the bed. He reached inside the nightstand drawer
and pulled out his badge.

"Here,"
he said, handing it to Max. "You're right, I blew it."

Max
reluctantly took the badge. "Well, now, Bird, okay. I mean, I'm mad. I'm really
mad! You've lied to me and instead of tailing Ted you've been gambling!"

Bird raised
his eyebrows and peered at the water-stained ceiling. "About that
gambling, Max. Did you actually
see
me place a bet today?"

"Uh, well,
no… but the fact remains you did go to the track!"

"Seems no
worse to watch a horse race than to have a picnic in the park," whispered
Bird, who added hastily, "but I'm sure you're right. You just take my badge
there and turn it in. And here, call headquarters and report me." He offered
the Linker to Max, lied down on the bed, and covered his eyes with his arm.

Max looked at
Bird,
then
sighed. "Bird, can you promise me that
you'll follow directions? And that you'll stay out of trouble just for the few
days left until we're out of here?"

Bird bounded
off the bed. "Oh, of course, Max! I'll be so good – the model of
deportment, you'll see!" He stood
ram-rod
straight and saluted.

Max went to
the bathroom to shower, undressed,
then
realized
something he forgot. He put on a bathrobe and his firm expression and burst
into the room.

"Bird!
You also need to promise to get professional help for your gambling when we get
back!"

"Whoa,
Max! You startled me! Bluebell and I were just playing jacks." Bird
gathered the scattered jacks and handed them to the huge blue buffalo sitting
on her haunches across from him. "You're on fivesies," Bird told
Bluebell.