"Oh? Okay, I'm on my way," said Bird who slammed his laptop shut and crammed the file into a drawer. He bounded along the corridor and slam-dunked the nose of the giant rat swinging from the ceiling. "Keep an eye on the office for me, Big Red!"
Nickie waved to Bird as she passed him in the doorway. "Morning, Max. Where's Mr. Bird going?"
"He's…he's going after that donated Bowflex."
"You know, he is really amazing. He's only been here a few days but he's already gotten more things donated than I did in a month. Just look at this desk!" She sorted through the mound of objects on Bird's desk.
"Speaking of desks, have you been to your office yet?" he said.
"No, why? Why are you smiling like that? What did you do?" She followed his gaze to the floor where a line of bunny stickers led around the corner. She laughed and followed the stickers to her cubicle. Max climbed on a chair and watched over the wall as she found the stuffed bunny on her desk.
"Max, this is really sweet. Just like The Runaway Bunny, huh?"
He nodded.
"Thank you, Max." She smiled at him and patted the bunny. Max lowered himself down into his chair. Alllright! he thought. He raised his legs to put his feet up on the desk and banged his knee on the partially closed drawer.
"Gnartz, Bird!" he said, rubbing his throbbing knee. Always leaving drawers open, always dropping his towels on the floor. Always getting into things he shouldn't, thought Max. Huh, like that file. With the pain subsiding, Max's curiosity grew.
Okay, Bird, he thought, what's so interesting about that file? He pulled the file from the drawer and saw the heading: ONLINE AND MAIL ORDER SHIPPING RECORDS. He flipped open the laptop and brought up the corresponding file, scanning down the figures for the last six months. He checked the hardcopy against the figures on the screen.
Hmmm, pretty steady growth, he thought. Let's see, by March the totals were 936,908 tiny time capsules shipped, in April 954,871 had shipped, by May 962,324, June…wow, June was a good month – 987,543 had shipped.
The air conditioning kicked in and Big Red began to sway gently in the breeze. It seemed to Max that the sinister rat was rotating in his direction to poke his nose over his shoulder and into his business. Its black, beady eyes seemed to know he was an imposter. Max uneasily turned his back to the mammoth rodent and bent back to the laptop. Now, by July, he thought, we should see that millionth capsule shipped. Yep, there it is, on both sets of records. So why is Bird so curious about these records? And why is he doing independent investigating? I'm supposed to be in charge!
He closed the laptop and thought. "Put yourself in the crook's mind," his dad had taught him. "Find his motivation and you can find his method and identity." Okay, thought Max, in this case, Bird's the crook. Why is he sneaking around? Well, he's got a zaybomby record, he's just coming off a suspension – hey, that's it! He wants to solve this case himself and gain some glory back home! No way, Bird! From now on, I'm keeping a closer eye on you, you freak!
He threw the file onto the desk and July's page flew out and lilted momentarily in the air. Max grabbed for it, squashing it face down. As he quickly smoothed it out on the top of the desk, a lightly penciled notation at the bottom of the page caught his eye. Doesn't match daily count. Matches yearly account? The thin, slanted script didn't look like Bird's bold scrawl. So who else is doing some independent investigating, he wondered.
"Max, are you there?" Nickie's voice floated over the partition. "I want to tag those things on Mr. Bird's desk."
"Uh, yeah, c'mon over," he said, grasping the file and hurriedly sitting on it.
Nickie appeared and the two silently began the tedious process of listing and tagging items. Max couldn't keep his mind off that mysterious quotation and how to unravel it. "Ask the expert," his dad had taught him. Time to couch interrogation in the guise of small talk. Max cleared his throat.
"So, Nickie," he said, "I've been just so fascinated with this whole process of manufacturing and shipping and all."
"Fascinated?" she said, eyebrows raised.
"Well, yeah, I mean, I was wondering how you keep track of all that's been shipped in one day."
She stopped working. "That's funny. Mr. Bird just asked me about that yesterday. You two must be psychic."
"Yeah, we're psychic alright. So how do you keep track?"
"Like I told Mr. Bird, it's a really simple process. I can give you the whole tour, just like I did for him, if you want."
"I want," he said rising. As she went through the cubicle door, he slid the file into the desk.
They took the elevator down to the first floor and they passed through swinging wooden doors to a large room lined with long rows of tables. Each table was divided into several workstations where two dozen women from 25 to 65 years old worked. Wire strung overhead the length of the room served as an eyelevel hanger for the unfilled order forms that were attached to the wire with clothespins. Loud Latin music blared over the women's laughter and joking.
"Wow. Really state of the art technology," Max said.
"It works out just fine. Our ladies here are super fast," said Nickie.
"Nickie! Girl, who's your new man-candy!" called out a middle-aged woman. "If you don't wan' him, my granddaughter will!"
"What your name, honey? You Nickie's new boyfrien'?" called another.
"Ohhh, she got a cutie boyfriend!"
Max noted with pleasure that Nickie blushed but didn't protest as much as he expected she would. Nickie ducked her head and led him to the shipping end of the room away from the women.
"Oh, I see, she taking him away from us – too much competition, yeah," called a woman. "Don't you worry, honey, I won't take you boyfrien'!"
Nickie took on a business-like air and showed Max the process of receiving the manufactured capsules, filling the orders, and recording the daily shipping tallies. At this point, Max suddenly got more involved.
"So, they mark the daily tally and each day send it up to the clipboard next to the entrance?" he asked.
"Right. That way, Dad or Powers can see how we're doing on a day-to-day basis."
"They do it by hand - they don't log it into a computer?"
"Gloria takes each day's record and enters it into a monthly record, and those are logged into the yearly account. So, you want to see the loading dock now?"
"Sure, but where did you say the yearly accounts are?"
"Well, online, but those are only accessed by Dad, Gloria, or Powers. We also have back-up ledger books but nobody uses them – they just sit in the old Records Room, next to the women's bathroom.
"I see," he said, heading for the door. "Well, thanks for the tour. I've got stuff to do upstairs. But you stay and visit with your friends." And without further explanation Max bounded out the door.
Nickie hollered after him, "But I thought you wanted to see the loading dock!" She shook her head in confusion.
"Ohhh, your boyfrien' is dumping you, Nickie. Don't worry, honey, we fin' you another one!"
Max sprinted down the hallway to the space between the doors of the men's and women's restrooms. He stood in front of the women's door and looked back cautiously. There, just beyond was the door marked RECORDS. Suddenly, the door of the men's room swung open and Powers stepped out.
"Wrong bilge hole, kid," said Powers, motioning him into the men's room.
"Uh, thanks," said Max. He hesitated at the door while Powers moved to Records Room. Hand on the doorknob, Powers gave Max an encouraging little gesture, urging him into the restroom. Max smiled weakly and went in. He waited a second, popped the swinging door open a crack, and saw Powers enter the Records Room.
Gnartz! I'll have to try later, he thought. When he stepped from the elevator into the office, Nickie was waiting for him, a little breathless from the stairs.
"Max, what's going on?"
"What do you mean? I was just curious about the business and now it's time for me to get back to work."
"Right," she said unconvinced. "Are you hidin
g something?"
"You know the saying, Nickie, 'Time is Money'!"
"Good attitude, Matt," said Ted, moving along the corridor, laden down with bags from the grocery store and drugstore, some wrapped parcels, and a gold wrapped box of Godiva chocolates.
"Uh, my name's Max, sir," Max said as he passed. He looked around. Ted's back, so where is Bird?
Hearing Ted's voice, Gloria appeared from her cubicle and dashed to him, her thin, pinched face floating in a moon of hair. Nickie and Max watched from a distance.
"Ted, dear, I would have been happy to run those errands for you if you had just asked," said Gloria, fussing over the packages.
"Thanks, Gloria, that's thoughtful of you but-"
"I guess Nickie's just too busy to do those kinds of things for you anymore," said Gloria, taking a bag from his arms.
"Hey!" Nickie looked ready to pounce on her but Max held her elbow and dragged her beyond the corner and out of sight. He put a finger to his lips and the two listened.
"Well, it's not really Nickie's job, and she's been working around here so much," said Ted.
"And you know, Ted, you look a little thin," cooed Gloria. "Has Nickie been cooking at all? I realize she's young and flighty, but anybody can heat a microwave dinner," said Gloria.
"Sure, but I've been working late."
"Say no more!" said Gloria. "I'm going to start bringing you home-cooked meals for lunch. I can't stand to see a good man neglected!"
Nickie strained in Max's grip.
"That's awfully nice of you, Gloria, but-"
"Don't thank me, Ted! Just call on me anytime. I'll be happy to do anything for you, just name it!" she said.
Nickie could take it no longer and steamed to Ted's cubicle, Max in tow.
"Uh, thanks, Gloria, could you take this before I drop it?" said Ted. He handed her the box of candy slipping from his grasp.
"Oh, Ted, you darling!" she squealed and ripped into the box. "You know what a sweet-tooth I have!"
Nickie, hurt and surprised, stepped out of the cubicle, into her father's view.
"No, Gloria," said Ted, "that's for Ni-"
"Isn't this man just a prize, Nickie?" Gloria said, popping a truffle into her mouth. "Someday soon some smart girl is going to snap him up! And just think, then you'll have a new mama!"
"Max!" growled Nickie, "Let's get back to work!" She nearly knocked him over with a shove to move past. She fairly flew to Max's cubicle, grabbed the rolling cart stacked with half-packed boxes and barreled down the corridor to the elevator.
In the elevator, Max gave her lots of room to fume.
"I knew it! She's after my dad! And I know it's just for his money!"
"Nickie, maybe you shouldn't hit the elevator door with the cart," he said.
"She used to be Powers' girlfriend until that reporter did an article on my dad and how much the company's worth."
"It might damage the door or jam it or something."
"Powers is so cheap, all he spends his money on are bigger and better boats. I guess she figured Dad would be a better catch."
The elevator doors parted and she gave the cart a shove. It sailed across the cloudy, yellowed linoleum floor and crashed into the open steel vault door. She yanked things off the cart without looking and threw them into the vault.
CRASH!
"Nickie, I think you broke that juicer," said Max.
"She's trying to replace me, Max!'
GAZOONG!
"Now I know you broke that electric guitar!" he cried.
"I won't stick around if they get married, Max, I mean it!"
Max ran around a pile of empty cardboard boxes and positioned himself in the line of fire to catch the flying objects, or at least to cushion their fall against the steel floor. He ducked the latest edition of Ripley's Believe It or Not, an Edgar Allen Poe shower curtain, a set of rowing oars, a Spiderman lunchbox and a box of sunflower seeds.
"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."
Chapter 16
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.
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