The Balloon Man (16 page)

“No wonder they didn't get it on the six o'clock broadcast,” Sarah exclaimed. “It must have taken hours to locate those old
films and patch them together. Where did they find them? I thought TV studios reused or discarded old … Oh, Max!”

There on the screen was the Sarah Max had first seen, white-faced and shivering in front of the family vault, where the skeleton
of a former burlesque queen had been discovered.

“I'll give Uncle Jake a call,” Max said savagely. “If he cant find a way of suing those sons of bitches—”

“But that's so unromantic, darling. The least you can do
is go to the television station brandishing a horsewhip” After the first gasp of horrified surprise, Sarah had recovered herself
She even managed a laugh. “We do have a colorful past, don't we? Everything the man said was true. I just hate to think—”

The telephone rang. Sarah sighed. “I knew this would happen. What do you bet it's Cousin Mabel?”

There were no takers. It was at least a hundred to one that Mabel Kelling would get her oar in the water before everybody
else.

“Sarah, have you gone stark, raving mad? Dont you ever give a moment's thought to your family? Our family, I should have said,
just to remind you that you do have one. Staging that ridiculous pageant of a wedding, not that I know much about it since
I never got an invitation even though those Bittersky creatures came in droves, I was told, all dressed up to the eyeballs,
and now there's Jem Kelling, mad as a hatter, shooting his mouth off about murders and God knows what else. If you ask me,
that old fool ought to be in one of those loony bins where they keep them locked up twenty-four hours a day and don't let
them have knives and forks.”

There was no stopping her; Mabel was off and running again. “It's a wonder Jem hasn't murdered somebody himself. That Egbert
of his is about as much good as nothing at all. Percy's the one who ought to be handling Jem's money, but Percy's all for
Percy, as you well know. Catch him doing anything for anybody else unless he gets paid in
advance. And there's Anne in her own little world, chasing the bugs off her precious roses. I can't stand that woman and never
could, even if she is my second cousin once removed.”

By this time, Sarah had developed a serious case of the giggles and Max was taping every word because this was Mabel at her
most venomous and ought to be preserved for the family archives if anybody ever got around to writing them. Mabel was building
up steam and would have gotten around to the rest of the family if Sarah hadn't dropped a gentle hint that this was Mabel's
money they were talking on. That did it. Mabel hung up after a final comprehensive “Well!”

Sarah stood up and shook the wrinkles out of her housecoat.

“Thank goodness for Aunt Mabel. A little comic relief is just what I needed. Come on, dear, let's go up. I told Mrs. Blufert
to take tomorrow off. She's given us so much time lately that she's gotten behind on her own work, so she won't be here to
help out with Davy, and I need to do some grocery shopping, strange as it may seem considering the amount of food that's been
in and out of this house during the past few days. Do you have any early appointments?”

“No, my love,” said Max. “I don't intend to stir till the rooster crows.”

“What rooster?” Sarah had little affinity with poultry in any form.

“Good question. Would you care to go rooster shopping tomorrow? We could send one to your cousin Mabel.”

“Nonsense, I wouldn't send Cousin Mabel a pleasant look. At least Jem and Egbert were safely tucked away when she called.”

“What did you do with my other bathrobe?”

“What other bathrobe? You only have one here because you took the purple one that Theonia gave you to Tulip Street and forgot
to bring it back.”

“Then why didn't you remind me?”

“Because I couldn't remember where we'd left it, that's why. You're a big boy now, in case you hadn't noticed. It's high time
you started being a role model for Davy, or he for you, whichever gets there first. Weren't we planning to go to bed?”

“That's the best suggestion I've heard all day,” Max said.

He didn't sleep well, though. Twice he slid carefully out of bed, so as not to wake Sarah, and prowled the house, checking
doors and windows and listening for unusual noises. It seemed to him he had been sleeping only a few hours when he was waked
up, not by a rooster crowing, but by a heavy weight pressing down on his diaphragm. When he opened his eyes he saw another
pair of eyes inches from his.

“You awake,” Davy announced.

“I am now,” Max admitted. “What's up, tiger?”

“You.” Davy tugged at him. “Up, Daddy.”

Max located his sole remaining bathrobe and struggled
into it, then accompanied his son and heir downstairs, where Sarah tenderly assisted him into a chair and waved a cup of coffee
under his nose.

“Here you are, you poor old man. Davy, your cereal is all ready; eat it up while I make Daddy his eggs.”

Max remembered the first night he'd spent in the Kelling house on Beacon Hill. Someone had tried to burn the house down and
had been foiled by Sarah with a pail of boiling water; Max had wrecked a folding chair that was a Kelling family relic and
had had a mouse run up his pant leg. Next morning Sarah had fried him two eggs. They'd come out the color and texture of leather.
He'd eaten every bite.

“I should have had them framed,” Max said.

“What, darling?”

“Those first eggs you ever cooked me, remember? They'd look great on the kitchen wall.”

Sarah deposited a kiss on the top of his head. “What a touching thought. Come to think of it, I've seen so-called modern paintings
that looked worse than those eggs.”

By the time Egbert and Jem made their appearance, Davy had finished his cereal and was demanding action. “What we do today?”

“What would you like to do?” Sarah asked.

“Go see the balloon.”

“Not today,” Sarah said quickly.

“Why not?” Davys lower lip went out.

“We haven't been invited.”

“The lady said I could bring my alligator to see her.”

Max took his mutinous son onto his knee. “The lady doesn't want company yet, Davy. She and Mr. Zickery just got here, and
they have a lot of work to do fixing up the house.”

“But—”

“Suppose we have a picnic instead,” Sarah suggested. “Before we do anything, you have to get dressed. Come on, we'll pick
out something to wear. Would you like to be a bluejay, or a pink-and-blue butterfly, or a green turtle with red feet?”

“Like Uncle Jems turtle,” Davy said eagerly. “He had a great big turtle once, its name was Peter, and Uncle Jem used to ride
it around and around and win all the prizes at the turtle races.”

Sarah laughed. “Did he really?”

“He told me so himself.”

“He'd never invent a thing like that,” Max said. “Run along, kid, and we'll see if we can find you a turtle race.”

Jem's mouth was full, but he nodded agreeably. After Sarah and Davy had gone, he swallowed, stared at Max, and shook his head.
“You look like hell. Something worrying you?”

“Its frustration more than worry. None of our leads have panned out, and we don't seem to be getting anywhere. I should be
working the case myself, but I don't like to leave Sarah and Davy alone. I can't farm them out to the relatives; I've done
that too many times already.”

“I think you're being a little hard on yourself, Max. It seems to me that you're doing your full share and quite a bit over.
What sort of life do you think Sarah would have had if you hadn't come along when you did? She'd have been trapped by family
pressure in the same old net, wearing her mother's hand-me-downs and going to all the family funerals for her entertainment.
Alexander was a dear chap, but he'd have been pretty much of a stick even if he hadn't had to be at Caroline's beck and call
about twenty-seven hours in the day.”

Jem's round, pink face was unusually serious. Max was surprised and pleased. Jem didn't hand out compliments often. Fortunately
Jem reverted to type before either of them could get maudlin.

“Anyhow, she's not alone. Damn it, Max, Egbert and I take umbrage at the suggestion that we aren't capable of looking after
her. Don't we, Egbert?”

“Decidedly,” Egbert said. “Both of us would lay down our lives to protect Mrs. Sarah and Davy. At least I would.”

Max grinned at him. “Thanks. I hope you won't take further umbrage, though, if I call in reinforcements. It's time I got in
touch with the rest of the crew.”

He had meant to call the office, but for some reason he found himself dialing the number of the house on Tulip Street. Theonia
picked up on the first ring. Had she expected him to call? Knowing Theonia, Max wouldn't have been surprised. He could hear
her rustling something out
of a paper bag or perhaps a chocolate box. Theonia liked little snacks that came in small bags.

“Max, is that you? How sweet of you to call. No, of course its not too early. Brooks has already trotted off to the office.
I've been thinking about you.”

“Anything in particular?”

“I'm afraid not, Max dear. I'm still getting that strong sense of danger, and it's definitely connected with the necklace.”
Theonia's soft chuckle sounded like the cooing of a turtledove. “I know, Max, it doesn't take foresight or supernatural powers
to suspect that. But it's so strange that the thing has turned up again after all these years.”

“You don't have to tell me,” said Max. “I was with Sarah the day we walked over to the High Street Bank to see the famous
Kelling parure, which was supposed to have been lying in one of the bank's safe-deposit boxes for many years. What we found
was a boxful of bricks. That was the day Sarah got her arm broken while I was outside smashing a front windowpane to get at
the bastard who intended to kill her and damned near did. I kept tabs on him for a while, but he was moved to another facility
for special cases, and I lost track of him. I don't know what I'd do if I ever came face-to-face with him again. I'm not a
vindictive person as a rule, but there's one who needs special treatment. Something interesting, with boiling oil in it.”

“Not you, Max dear. You just do not have it in you to destroy another human being, however vile that person might be.”

Max laughed ruefully. “Sarah said something of the sort while she was supervising the workmen who put up the tent for the
wedding. She says I'm not steely eyed enough.”

“Of course you're not, and why should you be? Neither is Sarah, as you ought to know by now if you're ever going to. But she's
got gumption, Max. She'll cope. You're the one I'm worried about. Do be careful. Watch out for anything that seems out of
key, even if it strikes you as stupid or silly. Oh dear, is that our other phone ringing?”

“Answer it,” Max said. “If it's Brooks, tell him to cut the billing and cooing short, since I'm about to call him.”

Evidently the caller wasn't Brooks, since Max reached him at once. He gave Max a brief and characteristically well-organized
summary of the present status of their varied cases.

“Things are getting backed up,” Max said with a groan. “I'm sorry to stick you with all this work, Brooks. I know I haven't
been pulling my weight the last few days.”

“My dear chap, how could you do otherwise? Don't fret yourself, everything is more or less under control. You'll be glad to
hear that Charles and Mariposa are on their way home, with the statue.”

“Thank God,” Max said, and meant it. “Brief them as soon as they get here, will you? I want to get this business of the necklace
settled so I can stop worrying about Sarah and Davy. In the meantime, find Jesse and send him out here.”

“Has something else happened?” Brooks sounded concerned.

“Hasn't enough happened?”

Brooks agreed that it had. “I'll let you know as soon as I get any information.”

Jem had retired to the living room for his early morning, as opposed to his late morning, nap, and Egbert was helping Sarah
with the breakfast dishes while Davy towed the alligator around and around the kitchen, making alligator noises.

“He certainly loves that toy,” Sarah said, stepping neatly over the string that was about to trip her. “Which reminds me,
Max, your father just called to say he's coming over with his tools. Something about the front door of the carriage house.
What's wrong with it?”

“Nothing. You know my old man, he wants everything perfect for Mike and Tracy. Maybe he's decided the door might stick some
day in the far, distant future and he's going to scrape off a few millimeters of wood so it won't.”

“I asked him to stay for lunch, but he said he'd bring a thermos and a sandwich, since he didn't want to be in the way. I
can't say I blame him for preferring your mother's cooking to mine.”

“You make as good a salami sandwich as Mom ever did,” Max said loyally.

Davy hadn't seemed to be listening, but he didn't miss much. “Sandwich,” he exclaimed. “Picnic! A picnic with Grandpa.”

“What a good idea,” Sarah said. “What shall we have?”

Sarah made peanut-butter sandwiches and put them in a basket with some oranges and apples and little boxes of chocolate milk,
which were a special treat for Davy because his mother didn't think too much chocolate was good for his teeth. Davy suggested
cookies, since he was sure his grandpa and the alligator would enjoy them. They were just about to leave the house when the
phone rang and the answering machine switched itself on.

“Oh dear,” Sarah moaned. “Max, that's Arnold Upthorn's secretary. Do we want to talk to him?”

“We don't want to, but we can't afford not to after all Upthorn did for us on that Artemisia Gentileschi transaction. Grab
the phone, will you?”

Upthorn, one of Max's best clients from a prestigious insurance agency in Chicago, was in urgent need of some high-powered
expertise, and he needed it now if not sooner. Max started calling airlines, and Sarah suggested to Davy that they turn the
picnic into an expedition into the Sahara, sent her son off with Egbert to collect the various items a daring explorer might
need, and went upstairs to pack an overnight bag. When Max joined her she was standing by the bed, holding his worn bathrobe.