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
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
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