Tiger by the Tail by Eric Walters Page B

thebottles, not understanding any of the words I was reading, until Mr. McCurdy called out, “That’s the one!” He took a syringe out of the box, the kind they use to take blood, and dipped the needle into the bottle. He drew back the plunger and the barrel filled with the liquid. Then he took the gun and opened the chamber to insert the syringe.
    “How about the police?” I asked.
    “The police?”
    “Yes. Shouldn’t we call the police?”
    “Be my guest,” he said, motioning to the telephone on the wall.
    I crossed the room and picked up the receiver. “Should I call 911?”
    “You can dial anything you want,” he answered without looking over at me.
    “But there’s no dial tone!”
    “That’s right,” he answered. “All I got was calls from people trying to clean my carpet or get me to subscribe to some newspaper or something, so I stopped paying the bill. Didn’t seem like there was anybody I wanted to talk to anyway.”
    I was confused. “If it doesn’t work, why did you tell me to call the police.”
    “Because it doesn’t work.”
    “What?” I sputtered.
    “I let you use the phone to call the police becauseI knew that you couldn’t. If it had worked, I wouldn’t have let you. Only thing the police will do is keep me tied up here answering questions while they try to kill Buddha. We don’t have time for the police.”
    I heard the screen door slam shut and then Nicholas appeared, a coil of rope around his neck and a chain in his hands, dragging on the ground.
    “I better get my glasses. Sarah, can you go over there and get me that box off the top of the fridge?”
    I stretched up and grabbed the carton. Pulling it down, I looked inside the open top. It was filled with dozens and dozens of pairs of eyeglasses. I brought it over and placed it on the table in front of him. Mr. McCurdy reached in and pulled out a pair of glasses, putting them on. I watched as his eyes widened behind the thick lenses and he craned his head to one side.
    “Nope, these aren’t right,” he said as he removed them. He dropped them back into the box and picked out another pair.
    “These can’t all be yours?” I asked incredulously.
    “Of course they are. Paid five dollars for the whole box at a flea market a few years ago.”
    “I mean they all can’t be, you know, the right lenses for you.”
    He put the second pair back in the box and reached for another pair. “Of course they all aren’t right for everything, but one pair helps me read, another helpsme see far away and another pair is good for driving …”
    “Then why don’t you throw away all the others?” I interrupted.
    “I never throw anything away. Never can tell when you might need something. Ahh, here they are!” he said. He removed a pair of pink ladies’ glasses with rhinestones on the corners. He put them on. Nick started to laugh.
    “Doesn’t matter if they’re good looking, as long as they help me look good.” Mr. McCurdy chuckled. “You old enough to drive?” he asked, turning to me.
    “Me?”
    “Who else?”
    “I don’t know how to drive. I’m only fourteen.
    “I can drive,” Nick announced.
    “You! You’re not big enough to see over the dash!” Mr. McCurdy laughed. “I guess
I’ll
have to drive.”
    “Shoot!” my brother responded. “I don’t get to do any of the really fun stuff.”
    “We’ll help you put everything in your car, but then we better get going home,” I said.
    “Home?” both Nick and Mr. McCurdy said in chorus.
    “Yes, home. Mom wouldn’t give us permission to go along.”
    “You’re right and that’s why nobody is asking her for her permission. I don’t see Mom anywhere around here,” Nick said.
    “I’m in charge and we’re heading home. I hope youunderstand, Mr. McCurdy, but we just can’t go. Can you drop us off?” I asked.
    “I don’t have time to be a taxi. Every minute I waste is a minute when things can go wrong. I’m pretty sure Buddha headed the other way.