The Balloon Man (25 page)

“Very considerate,” Jem said.

“Oh, Mother brought us up right, at least until she went into detox. So you see, there was poor Dewey in one of those tedious
prisons where there's nothing to do but listen to psychologists explaining about your childhood neuroses and ministers insisting
that you find Jesus and earnest people trying to teach you various crafts. You know, turning pots and weaving mats and, in
Dewey's case, learning how to make baskets. After five years he got to be very good at
it, and then it occurred to him to turn his newly acquired talent to practical ends. He began weaving a particularly large
basket. The guards were very amused. One of them said it reminded him of his aunt Matilda; she liked to knit socks, but they
got out of hand, or foot, as the case may be, and kept getting longer and longer. She used to give them to a bird sanctuary,
for the flamingos.”

“Louie,” Max said.

“Yes, of course. So there was Dewey with a very large basket and a yearning for freedom. It was full moon that night.” Louie
said dreamily. “Can't you picture it”the accordion wire lacy black against the sky, the balloon rising gracefully over the
wall, silhouetted against the big silver globe of the moon, and Dewey leaning over the basket, waving his hankie at the guards
down below?”

“No,” Max said. “I can't.”

“Really? I thought I expressed it quite poetically. Well, you're right, of course. Dewey toyed with the idea, he'd always
been fond of balloons, but he decided that even the guards might get suspicious if he asked for several hundred yards of nylon
and a propane burner. What he actually did was climb in the basket under his used sheets and unmentionables, and wait for
the laundry people to pick him up. It really was a most inefficiently run establishment,” Louie added critically.

“Fond of balloons, was he?”

“Very. Dewey's a free spirit, he never could stick to one job for long. One of his jobs was as assistant to a balloon
man at a carnival. The old fellow was really a wizard with balloons, he taught Dewey everything he knew. Said Dewey had a
real aptitude. One can't actually steer the things, you know, but one can direct their course to some extent. It requires
study of upper air currents, and knowing just when to let the air get cold and when to heat it up again. I never understood
those things myself, but Dewey took to them like a duck to water, so to speak.”

“How did Dewey get involved with the Zickerys?”

“The balloon, of course. They were looking for someone to handle theirs, and there was Dewey””

“Oh, for God's sake,” Jem shouted. “I've had enough of this. Not even a profound knowledge of English music hall songs can
excuse your dithering, Louie. Hit him, Max. Or let me hit him.”

“That won't be necessary, Jem.” Max reached into his briefcase, took out a package, and began unpeeling layers of plastic
wrap. Louie stiffened.

“The carrot and the stick, Louie.” Max smiled fiendishly. “The Gorgonzola sandwich is the carrot.”

Louie's greedy eyes were fixed on the sandwich. “What's the stick?”

“We drop all charges and throw you out on the street.”

Tweeters didn't want to go home. Considering what they owed him, Sarah hadn't the heart to come right out and tell him to
leave. She tried an indirect approach.

“You haven't mentioned your puffin, Tweeters. How is his damaged beak coming along?”

“Oh, Sarah, I am so sorry. I was supposed to give him his beak builder two hours ago, but I've been having such a wonderful
time that I completely forgot about Cuthbird. Can you forgive me if I rush off in a swivet?”

“Of course I can, Tweeters. I understand perfectly. I'd feel just the same if it were my puffin.”

Tweeters still wasn't quite ready to fly. “I may have to fashion him a prosthetic beak.”

“Oh, is it that bad? Do keep us informed, won't you?” This was a hint that even Tweeters Arbuthnot couldn't miss. He looked
around for a hole to fly out of. “Where did I leave my plane? Do you happen to remember?”

“No problem,” said Sarah. “Brooks and Theonia will drive you down to the landing and your plane will be right: there with
its pontoons on. It shouldn't be more than a fifteen- or twenty-minute hop from here to Jamaica Pond. Isn't that where you
park?”

“Sometimes. There's a lot of sky out there, you know, and quite a bit of water under it. Well, I suppose I'd better get back
to Cuthbird. Thank you for a lovely time.”

“The thanks are all on our side, Tweeters.” Sarah gave him an impulsive hug. “I don't know what we'd have done without you.
Perhaps you'd like to come for dinner one night next week, after things get sorted out here. Give our regards to Cuthbird.”

“I did mention to you, I hope, that the blue-faced booby with the sore claw is coming along well, and we hope to have some
good news for you very soon.”

She and Theonia followed Tweeters and Brooks to the latter's car. “I always have the feeling that Tweeters is looking around
for a good place to roost,” Theonia said. “Do you think it's because he's lonesome?”

“I suppose he must be. I've only been there once, but Tweeters has this big old Victorian house with nothing in most of the
rooms but birds in big cages. They go in and out just as they please.”

“Who does the cleaning up?”

“He has a man and wife”I guess they're man and wife”who take care of the place. Between them they do most of the daily chores
like the cooking and housekeeping
and keeping up with the bird counts and all that stuff. They're both pretty old, they get somebody in a few times a week to
scrub out the cages and sweep up the birdseed that gets kicked around. Most of the birds seemed to be damaged in one way or
another, broken wings or blindness, things like that. Some of those birds are real bastards. There's one called a skua that
will hatch an egg, then take that one and feed it to the next in line if the supplies run low.”

“Oh, dear. Brooks never mentioned the skuas.”

“He was trying to spare you, I expect.”

Theonia laughed, and then grew sober. “Take care, Sarah. Are you sure you don't want me to stay?”

“Absolutely. Jesse will be here, and Mrs. Blufert, and Mr. Lomax is somewhere around, and Miriam and Ira are ten minutes away
if I need them. The most important thing is to find out what Harry Lackridge was up to. It's a terrible thing to say, but
I have to admit I'm relieved he's dead. He was a dreadful man. Now if we can just dispose of those rubies! You know, Theonia,
I'd like to throw the case over the cliff and be done with it.”

“We'll figure it out, Sarah.” Theonia enveloped her in a soft, sweet-smelling embrace. “You take it easy today, you've had
a bad time. We'll let you know as soon as we learn anything.”

Sarah was glad to take Theonia's advice. Davy told her ominously he was getting too old to take naps, and Sarah was afraid
he was right. He finally consented to make camp
beside a pyramid with his trusty crew, so Sarah bedded them down in Davy's room with ample supplies of molasses cookies in
case the camels deserted them. Then she sent Jesse in the office to field business calls and stretched out in a deck chair
on the lawn. She was too old to take naps, too, but the strain of the past few days wasn't something that passed in a night.

She was still worried about Max. That was something that wouldn't pass, either. She would always worry about him. But she'd
have to get used to it; danger was part of his life and part of Max. Maybe that was one of the reasons why she loved him so
much. He wasn't afraid of life.

Alexander had been afraid. Afraid of hurting people, of being hurt, of living. And because of his fear she and her husband
and her son were still in danger. Talk about the Hope diamond! The rubies were beginning to look like the Curse of the Kellings.
I'll get rid of them, Sarah thought drowsily. They aren't mine anyhow. Percy's daughter, Belinda, should be next in line because
she's a triple Kelling, though she
did
have sense enough to pick a fourth cousin twice removed for a husband. I was afraid for a while that Belinda had her eyes
on Kenneth's brother James, and he's only twice removed. No wonder the Kellings are so peculiar. … Thank goodness I had sense
enough to marry a man who wasn't even distantly related to me. I hate to think what a child of mine and Alexander's might
have been like.…

She hadn't meant to fall asleep, but when she opened her
eyes the sun was halfway down the sky and Davy was sitting on her lap.

“Is it suppertime yet?” he demanded.

Sarah rubbed her eyes. “No, not for a long time. Where is everybody?”

“I'm here. Josie and Jim are helping Mrs. Blufert make cookies.”

Sarah gave him a hug. “Why don't you go and help, too? I'll come as soon as I wake up.”

She had seen something that made her want to get Davy out of the way as quickly as possible. He ran off, and Sarah braced
herself for another visit from her homicidal neighbor. Calpurnia was tastefully attired in a navy sweatsuit, and she was showing
all her teeth in a smile.

“I thought you might condescend to join me for tea this afternoon,” she called as soon as she was within earshot. “You've
entertained me so nicely, the least I can do is return the compliment.”

Sarah wasn't in the mood for Gallie, here or at the Zickery house, but good manners prevailed. “I thought you didn't have
a teakettle.”

“I'm afraid I was teasing you. The fact is, Alister and I have had quite a lot of work done on the old place. I didn't want
to encourage you to come while he was there, but now that he's out of the way I mean to begin entertaining again. I'd like
you to be my first guest. You and your dear little boy.”

Sarah thought quickly. It might be cruel and unfair, but
she didn't want Calpurnia having anything to do with Davy. “I'd love to come, Callie, but Davy has friends visiting. May I
bring my cousin Jesse?”

Calpurnia considered the suggestion. Finally she nodded. “Certainly. What's one more?”

“Damned car phones!” Max tossed it into the backseat. “Keep trying, Egbert.”

“It's all the traffic, I expect.” Egbert redialed.

“Can't you go any faster?” Jem demanded.

“Oh, I don't think that's possible, Mr. Jem.” Egbert pushed his employer off his lap and propped him against the seat. Max
didn't believe in collecting unnecessary traffic tickets, but on this occasion he was driving with panache, cutting in and
out of traffic and exceeding the speed limit whenever the chance presented itself. He wished a cop would pull him over so
he could demand an escort. Naturally there were no police cars to be seen.

“I'm sure there's nothing to worry about,” Egbert said. “Mrs. Sarah is too intelligent to take chances. She wouldn't go over
there by herself. Anyhow, what could the woman do?”

“I don't want to think about it,” Max said. “She's killed one man and tried to kill me. Alister or Dewey must have untied
me while she wasn't looking. Try again, Egbert.”

It wasn't until after they had turned off the freeway and were tearing along the road to the Landing that Egbert got through.
Max heard him say, “Oh, dear.”

“What?” he demanded.

“It's Mrs. Blufert,” Egbert reported. “Davy is fine, he's with her and the grandkids, they're making chocolate-chip cookies.”

“Where's Sarah? Tell Mrs. Blufert to put her on the phone.”

“I'm afraid she's not there, Mr. Max. It seems Miss Vickery came by and invited her to tea. But don't worry, Jesse has gone
with her.”

“How long ago?” Max put his foot down.

“Just a few minutes.”

“Faster,” Jem urged.

A tree branch lashed the windshield. Egbert moaned and covered his eyes.

At least the phone call had saved a few minutes. Max turned straight into the rutted path that led to the Zickery place. They
bounced along the road and came to a crashing halt in front of the house. Max was out and running before the engine
died.
Rising over the roofline was a big round thing striped in bright colors.

He crashed through the overgrown bushes next to the house. Behind it was a pasture-size open space, knee deep in nettles and
weeds, and in the space was the balloon. No wonder he had had hallucinations about the Fourth of July. What he had heard as
he'd floundered around in the cold water was the
whoosh
of the engine that heated the air for the balloon. The flare of flame had suggested rockets and fireworks to his dazed brain.
How they'd got the damned
thing back here he didn't know, but Dewey was a wizard with balloons, according to his brother.

Dewey wasn't visible. Calpurnia was in the basket of the balloon, which was anchored only by two ropes. It rocked wildly as
Calpurnia pulled at Sarah, trying to drag her into the basket. Sarah dug in her heels and resisted, but she was losing the
struggle.

“Hit her!” Max yelled. He jumped a recumbent body, saw that it was Jesse's, and ran faster. “Slug her!”

Sarah heard. She'd never hit anybody in her life, but this seemed to be the time to forget her Back Bay training. Calpurnia's
grip loosened when Sarah's fist smacked into her nose. Sarah fell back, rolled, and scrambled away on hands and knees. Calpurnia
leaned over the side of the basket. Two quick slashes, and the balloon was free. It rose ponderously into the air.

A tatterdemalion figure reeled out of the house, holding its head. “Stop her,” Dewey gasped. “She doesn't know how it works!”

Max couldn't have cared less. He was holding Sarah, and she was holding him just as tight. But Sarah wouldn't have been Sarah
if she had thought only of herself. She raised her head from his shoulder. “Jesse. She hit him with the gun and tried to make
me get in the balloon. Is he all right?”

Jesse sat up. “What the hell happened? Ouch. My head!”

The balloon had cleared the treetops. It rose higher, drifting south across the {Celling acres, heading seaward,
sailing beyond the sunset and the baths of all the western stars, until …

“Oh, my God,” Max said.

A flight of birds”terns, seagulls, they were too far away to identify”swooped gracefully down, greeting a fellow flier or,
more likely, curious about what the peculiar thing might be. The basket rocked wildly, spilling out an object that flapped
and flailed its limbs as it fell, passing out of sight below the trees.