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 a
nd 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.
"Hyymmmphhh!" huffed Bluebell.
"Okay, don't have a cow, Bluebell. You're on sixsies," said Bird.
"I mean it Bird, you've got to get counseling!" yelled Max.
"Okay, I promise, I promise. Gnartz, everybody's in such a surly mood tonight. He tossed up the rubber ball and swept up all ten jacks in his hand before the ball bounced once. "Ahaaa! I finished tensies! I win!"
Bluebell snorted and rose abruptly. With a contemptuous toss of her head, she sauntered into the closet and slid the door closed behind her.
"Now she's going to sulk," said Bird. "So what do you want to do after dinner? Coup Sticks? You know, we really should talk about that thunder dream, too, it might-"
"I'm having dinner at Nickie's." Max returned to the bathroom and inspected his face in the mirror. Is that a whisker? Should I shave?
"Dinner?" said Bird. He froze for an instant, then rummaged around the bedspread for the Linker. He handed it to Max. The button marked STANDBY flashed. "Aww, bad timing, buddy! I forgot to tell you, you got a STANDBY call from headquarters waiting for you," said Bird.
"What? Okay, I'll call back," said Max, rubbing his chin. Yep, definitely time for a shave.
"Tried that already," said Bird. "I got the LinkVoice. It said to just sit tight at these time coordinates and wait for the call."
"Okay, then, you take the call for me." Too bad I didn't bring a razor, but then, I just shaved last month, so who knew I'd need one?
"But my orders are to watch Ted and that's what I'm going to do. Twenty-four hours a day, starting right now. And besides, isn't your drug sting scheduled for the day after tomorrow? It might be about that," said Bird.
"Just take the Linker with you and take the message," said Max. Nickie probably likes the unshaved look anyway, he thought. More manly.
"No, it's set up for this location and you're in command here, Max. You should take the call. And frankly, I think it might be better if you didn't see so much of Nickie after hours. Policy of Non-Involvement, you know," said Bird primly.
"Don't start that with me, Bird. I'm going!"
"Alright. Then when I talk to the Chief I should tell her you're having dinner with the victim's daughter?" asked Bird.
Max hesitated. At last he said, "Don't bother. I've lost my appetite." He pulled his phone from his discarded pants on the bathroom floor, punched in a number, and listened for a moment. "Nickie's voicemail's full," he said.
Bird went to Max and put his hand on the boy's shoulder. "It's for the best, Max. You should really stay in tonight. Looks like thunder showers ahead." He swung out the door. "I'll even go by Nickie's and give her a good excuse."
After Bird left, Max went to the window and searched the sky for a long time. Not a thundercloud in sight, he thought. He returned to the bathroom, showered and dressed in clean clothes. Whoever made up this dumb Policy of Non-Involvement, anyway? At least Bird promised to get counseling. Even if he really didn't gamble today, only watched the races. Unless he bet off-track! he thought. How could I miss something so obvious? Max, you are losing it!
He grabbed his pants and the elec-tail in the pocket. Two-five-six, two-one, it read. He slammed open the flat screen. What? That's here! Max snatched Bird's dirty shirt from the bed and found the tiny chrome pinhead of the transmitter. "Biiirrd!" Linker in hand, he raced to the door.
Chapter 21
All the way to Nickie's apartment, Max hoped that he'd catch Bird before he left his message and took off for who-knows-where. He leaned against the doorbell, breathless.
Nickie answered the door with a chilly tone. "Max. Thought you couldn't make it. We were just about the eat."
He followed her to the kitchen. "Didn't Mr. Bird tell you?"
"Right. He said your message was, 'Something came up'."
Max glared at Bird who was seated on a barstool at the kitchen island.
"I probably should have gone into more detail, Nickie," he said. "Max essentially said it was, uh, 'some personal business to take care of' and asked me to give you his regrets," said Bird.
"No problem. It wasn't like a date or anything."
Max turned to Bird, "You can leave now."
"No way," said Nickie. "When you stood me up, I invited Mr. Bird to join me." Bird beamed at her and toyed with a daisy in a blue crockery vase.
Max took a seat at the table. "I like the way you folded these napkins, Nickie. They look just like little bunnies! How did you do that?"
"No big deal!" She snatched the corner of his napkin, fluffed it in the air and dropped it onto his plate.
Bird followed her to the stove and watched over her shoulder as she lifted the chicken from a pot of hot water, drained the juices, then placed it on a platter.
"Need any help?" he asked. "I'm great in the kitchen."
"Bird, just stay out of the way," called Max.
"Thank you, Mr. Bird, I would like some help," she said pointedly. "I'm just going to get rid of this, first." She lifted the pot and started to pour the broth into the sink.
"Nickie, wait!" Bird said, stopping her. "That's good broth! It'll make a delicious soup." He took the pot and returned it to the burner.
"I don't know how to make soup," she said.
He opened the cabinet and perused the spices. "Well, then, let's see what you have here," he said.
"Bird! Stay out of there!" Max yelled.
Bird filled his hands with several little metal cans and dumped them on the counter. "Now, Nickie, I think a good soup is a lot like life," he said, adding a pinch, a dash or a sprinkling of each herb to the pot. "It starts out with the same broth for everybody but it's what you do to it that makes it good soup."
"Huh?" said Max.
Nickie gave him a stern look. "Explain, ple
ase, Mr. Bird," she said politely.
"Hey, the way I see it, you've got a choice," said Bird. He went to the refrigerator and piled mushrooms, green onions, and an egg on the counter. He pulled out a bottle of white wine and pulled out the cork with a pop.
"Bird! Put that stuff away!" hollered Max, rising.
"Shut up, Max!" said Nickie. "Sit down and let poor Mr. Bird alone!"
Bird vigorously chopped the green onions. "As I was saying, you've got a choice. You can have a bland bowl of broth like everyone else," he plopped the onions into the pot, "or you could cook up an exciting soup!" He offered Nickie the knife and set her chopping the mushrooms.
Max rolled his eyes but kept his peace.
"My soup is pretty flavorless," she said.
"Okay, then be inventive!" Bird said, his head in the refrigerator again. "Gotta take some chances!" He pulled out a plastic lemon and squeezed a shot into the broth pot. "And forget the rules! Make up your own!" said Bird.
"Yeah, you're good at making up your own rules," said Max.
Nickie glared him into silence.
Bird scooped up the mushrooms and threw them into the pot and turned up the heat. "Look for ingredients you have handy, things only you can supply – then go for it!"
"But what if you don't have much to work with?" said Nickie.
"Don't make barriers for yourself," Bird said, stirring the soup. "And don't settle for what's expected of you. Try the unexpected!" He tossed up the egg, cracked it one-handed against the edge of the pot and sent it flying into the broth.
Max sucked in a breath.
Nickie laughed. "Pretty fancy," she said.
"Pretty fun – if you're willing to take a chance," Bird said. He closed his eyes and poured in a dollop of wine. And if you fail, well, you can always cook up a new chicken."
Nickie bent over the pot and inhaled the savory steam. "Aren't you making too big a deal over just soup?"
"Nope. Your soup – or your life – can be a modest meal or a splendid feast. It's all up to you." He lifted the spoon dramatically and flourished it in the air. "The possibilities are endless and the rewards are great."
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