Deadrock (5 page)

Max and Bird
trailed Ted to a crumbling brick building. As Ted entered, Max checked the
directory next to the doorway: Rhoades Through Time, Inc., Second Floor.

"This
must be the place," he said.

Unexpectedly,
Ted reappeared, passed them, and headed for the street again. Max turned and
was about to follow when Bird stopped him. "Hold it, Max. He may suspect
we're trailing him."

They watched
Ted from the shadows of the doorway. Ted backtracked up the block to a hotdog
stand.

"Well, if
the murderer doesn't kill him, his diet will," said Bird. "Do you
know what they used to put in hot dogs, Max? Meat!"

"Come on,
Bird." Max started after Ted.

"He's
just having breakfast, Max!" said Bird. "Let's go up and check out
the office!" And without waiting for further orders, he was off.

"Bird!"

Max caught up
with him just inside the pair of etched glass doors in the entryway of Rhoades
Through Time, Inc. Their arrival caught Nickie's eye and she spun around from a
large, canvas mailbag at the entrance.

"What do
you want?" she demanded, clutching a handful of letters to her chest.

"We didn't
mean to frighten you," said the Indian.

"That's
okay, I just didn't hear you come in," she said, taking a deep breath. She
stepped back, then gave a quick head-to-toe inspection of the big, burly,
tanned Indian and the little kid dressed for Woodstock.

"Uh, if
you're looking for the costume shop, it's down the street," she said.

"We're
looking for the Rhoades Through Time
company,
"
said Bird. Max took the big man by the arm and roughly drew him aside. The two
had a short, intense conference.

"Don't
forget who's in charge!" hissed Max.

"I'm only
trying to help," whispered Bird.

They both
paused to smile reassuringly at Nickie, who pulled out her phone and seemed
ready to call 911 at any second.

"Just
keep quiet!" snapped Max, completing the conference. He let go of the
Indian, pulled at the waist of his own hiphugger pants, and turned back to
Nickie. "We were sent by the agency. They said you needed assistants for
some special project?"

"Yes, we
do have a celebration coming up but I'm in charge and nobody told me-"

"And you
are?" interrupted Bird. Max shot him an exasperated look.

"Oh, sorry,
I'm Nickie, that is, Nichole Rhoades, Director of Acquisitions and Antiquities."

"Very
impressive," said Bird.

"My dad
and his partner own Rhoades Through Time," she said.

"A
pleasure to meet you," said Max with his most grown-up manner. "I'm
Max Livingstone and this is John Look-For-A-Bird, my…uh, guardian." Bird
grinned with delight and hooked his arm around Max's shoulders.

"My ward
here and I are looking for summer employment, ma'am," said Bird. He bent
down conspiratorially to her. "Something to keep the lad off the streets,
you understand."

Max squirmed
out of Bird's hold. "So,
who
do we talk to? You?
Or to Personnel?"

"Personnel's
not here now…but yeah, I should be able to hire my own assistants," Nickie
said. "I mean, I am the one in charge of this project, right?"

The two
visitors bobbed their heads in agreement.

"Okay,
then, I WILL hire my own assistants!" she said, straightening a full six
inches over Max's head. "Come right this way." Max liked the way she
set her chin so determinedly.

She led them
through the labyrinth of empty cubicles arranged in the large, bright room lit
by banks of florescent lights. The two paused under the dusty, cobweb-covered,
six-foot long, paper mache model of a red rat dangling from the ceiling.

"Uh, just
ignore that," said Nickie, coloring slightly. "This used to be an exterminator's
office. My dad hasn't gotten around to taking it down yet."

"Whoa,
nightmare piñata!" said Bird. He reached up and batted at a wire whisker
jutting from the vermin's nose.

"Yeah it
is, but at least this place never has mice," said Nickie.

"I'll bet
it keeps the stray cats away, too," said Bird, following Max into Nickie's
cubicle.

Nickie set an
employee form and a pen on the desk in front of each of the detectives. Max
filled out his form. Bird played with his pen and studied the posters of Kenya,
Machu Picchu, Egypt and Angkor Wat that camouflaged the steel grey walls of the
cubicle. He picked up a finger-smudged brochure for the American University of Rome
from the corner of the desk.

"
'One
of the finest undergraduate archeology programs in the
world'," he read aloud. "'The course of study offers hands-on
experience and field excursions to archeological sites supervised by
internationally-recognized leaders.' Cool. You going to be an archeologist?"

Nickie
snatched the brochure out of Bird's hand. "Not really. I'm going to NYU
and major in business."

"Ah…well,
that's fascinating, too," he said unconvincingly.

"So about
our jobs," interrupted Max. "You are looking for…?"

"Uhm, let's
see
. I could use, uh, shoppers?" she said.

"What
luck!" said Max. "Mr. Bird and I were once assistants to the head
buyer-"

"For the
summer - while the lad was out of school, you see," said Bird.

"For
Stellar's Department Store in-"

"Have you
ever been to Tokyo?" asked Bird.

"Never,"
Nickie said.

"What a
shame!" said
Max.
"If you had, you'd be very
familiar with our skills. Now what kind of shopping do you need? Office
furniture, electronics-"

"Groceries?"
asked Bird.

Nickie
laughed. An easy, nothing-held-back kind of laugh, thought Max.

"I need
shoppers for a bit of everything," she said, picking up a sealed, clear
plastic cylinder from her desk. "I guess you know we make these
personalized time capsules. People put keepsakes into them to commemorate a
special event. A wedding, a graduation, the birth of a baby – that kind
of thing."

She handed the
cylinder to Bird.

"Ingenious,"
he said, unscrewing one end and tapping on the clear sides of the tube. "What
are they made of?"

"Plastic,"
said Nickie.

"Plastic!"
said Bird with glee. He slapped Max on the back. "Plastic! Are there more?
These things must be worth a fortune!" Nickie stared as the big man
unbuttoned his sleeve and rolled the smooth tube up and down his bare brown
arm.

Max pushed him
aside. "What he means is, this product must be a big seller."

"Yeah, it
is. In fact, that's why we're having the capsule ceremony – to celebrate
our millionth sale. We're going to use a vault in the basement as a giant time
capsule and seal it up for a hundred years," she said.

Bird moved to
a nearby desk and stroked a laptop.

"Uh, I
guess you have computer skills right?" she asked.

"Can I
work with a LAPTOP?" Bird trilled.

"Of
course. You'll do input, track items, order things online. The thing is,
though," she looked at Max, "you seem a little young."

"No! I'm
fifteen and a half! Here's my work permit!" Thank you, research team for
thinking of everything, he thought.

"Yes, the
lad is young-looking – he's hitting puberty a little late," said
Bird. Max glared at him.

Just then, Nickie's
phone rang. "One minute, Mr. Chang," Nickie said into the phone. "I'll
check the payment records. She sat at her laptop and pulled up a file marked
ACRYLIC WORLD. "Here it is. It shows we made our payment to you on the tenth
of last month. I don't know why you haven't received it, but I'll check with my
dad right away."

She hung up
and sat for a minute, puzzled. "Hmmm, that's the second creditor this week
who hasn't been paid," she said. The two detectives exchanged a look.

"Well,"
Nickie explained, "Dad's been a little preoccupied lately. We're being
audited and we have the capsule ceremony coming up so…"

"And when
will the capsule be sealed?" asked Max.

"July 24
^th
."

"Eleven
days!" moaned Max.

"Well, I
know it's short-term work, but you can start tomorrow. And it'll be a fun job!
You'll be buying things to put into the capsule."

"Things
to represent twenty-first century life," said Bird, rotating the cylinder
across his forehead in a dreamlike trance. "Your thoughts, hopes, dreams…"

"Disappointments,"
said Max.

"Exactly,"
said Nickie. She gently pried the capsule from Bird's hands. "The things
in the time capsule will tell our grandchildren and great-grandchildren what we
were like."

"We'd be
pleased to assist you," said Bird. "And having lived in other
cultures, as we have, we may view your civilization much the way future
generations will."

Max smiled at
this. "Right. Think of us as the eyes of the future," he said.

Max rolled his
Hello Kitty suitcase over the threshold and tilted it onto one of the narrow
twin beds. The neon sign outside the window blinked on and off, giving the
cheap motel room a greenish glow.

"Eleven
days! How did we get here so early?" he said to Bird, who stood waving his
hands at the bare bulb in the ceiling.

"Max, it's
like I've told you a hundred times today, sometimes they can't pinpoint the
– hey, what's wrong with this light?"

Max went to
the light switch and turned it on just as Bird snapped his fingers
authoritatively at the bulb.

"There!
That did it!" said Bird. He rotated to survey the room's faded, peeling wallpaper
and threadbare carpet. "You know, I still think we should have gone for
the Hilton."

"The guy's
not going to die for eleven days," said Max.

"That's
great, isn't it? We can really see some sights," said Bird, dumping his
backpack, a statuette of the Empire State Building with a tiny ape on top, a
yellow taxi keychain, and a Barney poster onto the other bed. "I love you,
you love me…" sang Bird. He rolled up his sleeve and admired his three new
glow-in-the-dark watches. "All these clocks and watches!" Bird said. "Have
you noticed, Max? And almost everyone has one!"

"Well,
they haven't got inner time yet, Bird," said Max.

"And they
come in
plastic
, too," raved
Bird, stroking the timepieces lovingly. He leaned over to examine the
headboard. "Plastic! Wood grain simulated plastic! This stuff's
everywhere!" He stretched out on the bed and straightened the green foam
Statue of Liberty crown on his head.

"Be
careful, Bird, all I need is for you to overdose on me," said Max.

"But the
healing powers…if they only knew," said Bird, inspecting the lampshade.

Max mentally
scanned his internal calendar. "Maybe I can go back, do the Spinelli
sting, then come back here to finish up," said Max. He bounced tentatively
on the sagging mattress.

"I don't
think so, Max. Once they send you here, they don't want you to leave,"
said Bird.

"Well,
maybe if I can figure out who the murderer is, they'll let me leave you to
actually witness the crime."

"Maybe.
But I'd still unpack if I were you," said Bird, upending his backpack into
a dresser drawer.

Max unzipped
his suitcase and lifted out the neatly folded stacks of clothing. Bird wandered
into the bathroom and Max heard him snapping his fingers in the dark.

"It's an
old-fashioned wall switch," called Max.

"Aha,"
said Bird. He switched on the light and took in the long, narrow bathroom. "Hey,
we could rollerbarrel in here," he said, running two steps and sliding the
last slippery three feet of tile until he hit the far wall. The small square
box pinned to his belt began to flash.

"
Alright
, Bluebell," he whispered to the box. He pushed
the bottom of the box and directed the bright beam of light into the claw-foot bathtub.

"I know
it's cramped and uncomfortable but it'll have to do for now," he told the
beast in the tub.

Max turned toward
the bathroom. "The way I figure it, since Ted is the Mayor's
great-grandfather, one of us should keep him under surveillance," he said.
"He's probably our victim."

"Right,
Max!" Bird yanked the shower curtain closed and began to play with the
sink faucets, turning them off and on.

"Or maybe
he's the murderer," stressed Max, walking to the doorway. "We can't
make assumptions, okay?" Never assume anything, thought Max. His father
had taught him that.

"Right,
Max."

Bluebell's
thick, shaggy tail swished outside the shower curtain behind Max's back.

"You
know, Bird, Ted's company's not paying their bills on time. Maybe they're
having money trouble."

"Could
be, Max, could be," said Bird, blocking the tail's reflection in the
mirror.

"And
money's the number one motivation for murder. I wonder if Ted's hiding money.
We definitely need to watch him closely."

"I could
do the tracking, Max. I like that."

"You like
race-tracking
, not people-tracking," said Max. "
I can't be worrying about you gambling. We've got to honor the Policy of
Non-Involvement, remember?"

"This is true.
We wouldn't want another little mishap," said Bird, with a twinkle in his
eye. Max blushed, remembering his warning to Ted. "But a successful partnership
depends on mutual trust, wouldn't you agree, Sergeant?" Bird asked.

Max looked
into the open, weathered face of the man sitting on the sink counter before
him. I guess I
gotta
trust him sometime, he thought.
What else can I do? "Okay, but stay with him. And no gambling!" said
Max.

"You can
count on me, Max."

"Then I'll
keep an eye on the office for possible suspects," said Max.

"Or
victims," said Bird. He swung off the counter and into the bedroom, giving
the shower curtain one final closing tug on his way.

"Or
victims, right." Max looked into the mirror over the counter. He straightened
his paisley headband and shook his head. He sensed that something was wrong
with the outfit. A couple of times during the day while they were on the
sightseeing tour, he caught people snickering at him.

But maybe they
were just laughing at Bird. The way he carried on, pointing to every shop
window, poking his nose in the windows of parked cars, and hugging that Elmo
character in Times Square! How am I ever going to keep him in line?

Max tugged on
his macramé vest. "Bird, you did a lot of looking around today. Do you
think there's something wrong with my clothes?"

Bird stood in
the doorway and gave Max an appraising once-over. "Weeell, the historical
crew who dressed you might have been off-track by a few years," he said. "We
need to get you something a little more up to date. I saw a store down the
street that looked good. Called The Span or The Breach or something. We'll go
right after dinner. I saw this restaurant we'll try-"

"Bird! I
warned you at the office – you're taking over a lot!" I'm the one
making the rules and the schedule, got it?"

"Got it,
boss. So what's the schedule for the evening?" said Bird, snapping Max's
headband.

"We'll go
shopping first, THEN we'll go to dinner!" said Max. He pulled off the headband
and shot it like a limp rubber band at Bird's face.

"Brilliant
plan! No wonder you're in charge!" said Bird, springing the band back at
Max, who dodged and hit the shower curtain.

"PPPPPbbbbbhhhh,"
a rolling sort of snort rang out from behind the curtain.

"Bird…"
said Max warningly.

"She's
just a holopet, boss. Doesn't eat much, doesn't take up any room, doesn't-"

Max jerked the
curtain open and looked up into the moist, clear eyes of the nine-foot,
baby-blue holographic beast.

"A
buffalo, Bird? You brought a BUFFALO?"

"She's a
beauty, isn't she? Say hello, Bluebell!" The buffalo shook her head and
strewed Max's face with holographic drool.

"Biirrrdd!
Turn her off!"

"Hey, I
can tell she likes you, Max. She doesn't give the drool bath to just anybody,
you know."

"Bird!"

"It's an
old Native American blessing! Trust me on this! I'll tell you all about it on
our way to dinner." He dragged Max by the arm and out the door of the motel
room. "Then we'll find that store – The Void or The Gap, no, The
Gorge! That's it!"