SEVEN

How it happened was no big mystery.

Like all students, Beatrice the Bear lived in the vicinity
of her school bus stop. Roy likely had ridden right past her
front door, and when Beatrice had spotted him, she’d
simply tailed him to the golf course.
“That’s my bike,” he said to her.
“Yeah, it is.”
“Can I have it back?”
“Maybe later,” she said. “Hop on.”
“What?”
“The handlebars, you dork. Get on the handlebars.
We're goin’ for a ride.”
Roy did what he was told. He wanted to retrieve his
bicycle and go home.
Two years of pushing up and down high hills in
Montana’s thin air had made Roy a powerful rider, but
Beatrice Leep was stronger. Even through deep puddles
she pedaled swiftly and effortlessly, as if Roy were
weightless. Perched uncomfortably on the handlebars, he
clutched the sodden cardboard box.
“Where are we going?” he shouted.

71
 “Hush up,” Beatrice said.
She steamed past the fancy brick entrance to the golf
course and soon the paved road gave way to a dirt rut,
with no curbs or streetlights. Roy braced himself .as the
bike jounced through muddy potholes. The rain had soft-
ened to a mist, and his wet shirt felt cool against his skin.
Beatrice stopped when they came to a tall chain-link
fence. Roy observed that a small section had been cut
with wire clippers so that it could be pulled back. He got
off the handlebars and tugged at his jeans, which had
ridden up the crack of his butt.
Beatrice parked the bicycle and motioned for Roy to
follow her through the hole in the fence. They entered a
junkyard full of wrecked automobiles, acres of them. In
the twilight Roy and Beatrice crept along, darting from
one rusted hulk to the next. From the way Beatrice was
acting, Roy assumed they weren’t alone on the property.
Soon they came to an old panel truck propped up on
cinderblocks. Roy could barely make out the faded red
lettering on its battered awning: JO-Jo’s ICE CREAM AND
SNO-CONES.
Beatrice Leep stepped up into the cab, pulling Roy
behind her. She led him through a narrow doorway into the i
back, which was cluttered with crates, boxes, and heaps of
clothes. Roy noticed a sleeping bag rolled up in a corner.
When Beatrice closed the door, they were in total dark-
ness; Roy couldn’t see his own fingers in front of his face, —
He heard Beatrice’s voice: “Lemme have your box.”

72
 “No,” Roy said.
“Eberhardt, are you fond of your front teeth?”
“I’m not afraid of you,” Roy lied.
It was stuffy and humid inside the old ice-cream truck.
Mosquitoes hummed in Roy’s ears and he slapped at them
blindly. He smelled something that seemed out of place,
something oddly familiar—cookies? The truck smelled
like freshly baked peanut-butter cookies, the kind Roy’s
mother made.
The piercing beam of a flashlight caught him squarely
in the eyes, and he turned away.
“For the last time,” Beatrice said menacingly, “what’s in
that shoe box?”
“Shoes,” said Roy.
“[’m so sure.”
“Honest.”
She snatched the box from his hands and flipped it
open, aiming the flashlight at the contents.
“T told you,” Roy said.
Beatrice huffed. “Why are you carryin’ around an extra
pair of sneakers? That’s really weird, cowgirl.”
“The shoes aren’t for me,” Roy said. They were almost
_ brand-new; he’d only worn them a couple of times.
“Then who're they for?”
“Just a kid I met.”
“What kid?”
“The one | told you about at school. The one who went
tunning by your bus stop that day.”
 “Oh,” Beatrice’ said caustically, “the one ‘you went
chasing when ‘you shoulda: been minding your own busi-
ness.” She turned'the flashlight off and everything went
black again.
“Well, I finally met him. Sort-of,” Roy said.
“You: don’t give up, do you?”
“Look, ‘the kid needs shoes: He could step on broken
glass or rusty-nails...or even’ a cottonmouth.”
“Howdo you know he wants to wear shoes, Eberhardt?
Maybe he can run faster without ’em:”
Roy wasn’t sure what Beatrice Leep’s problem was, but
he knew he was’seriously late for dinner and his parents
were probably frantic. He planned to make a break as'soori
as Beatrice turned on the flashlight ‘again.:If he could
somehow beat her to the bicycle, he might be able to get
away.
-. “Whatever,” Roy said. “If he doesn’t want the shoes, I’ll
keep ’em myself: If he i well, they ought to fit him. He
looked about as tall as me.’
From the darkness; only silence. '
“Beatrice, if you're going to beat’ me up, could you
please hurry up and get it over with? My mom afd dad are
probably calling the National Guard right now.”
More heavy silence. —
“Beatrice, you awake?”
“Eberhardt, why do you care about this kid?”
It was a good question,and Roy wasn’t certain he could
put the answer into words. Thete was something about

74
 a
the look on the: boy’s face when’ he went running-past the
school bus those days;-something urgent and: determined
and unforgettable. :
“T don’t know,” Roy said tto Beatrice Leep. J don't tHated
why.”
The flashlight. blinked on. ‘Roy cleinbered for the door,
but Beatrice calmly snatched*him by the séat of his jeans
and yanked him to the floor beside her.
Roy sat there panting, waiting to get clobbered.
Yet she didn’t seem mad. “What size are these?” she
asked, holding up the sneakers.
- “Nines,” said Roy.
“Hmm.”
~ Inthe.cupped glow of light, Beatrice put a finger to her
lips and pointed over her shoulder. Then Roy Hepedd the
footsteps outside.
~ Beatrice clicked off the light and they waited. The steps
in the gravel sounded heavy and.ponderous, like those: of
a large man. Something jangled-as he moved;-a set.of keys,
‘maybe,.or loose coins in a: pocket. Roy held his breath.
» As, the watchman: approached the ice-cream truck, he
whacked one of:the fenders with what sounded like a lead
pipe. Roy jumped but made no noise. Luckily,
the man
kept walking. Every so often he’d bang the pipe loudly on
another junker, as if he were trying to scare something out
-of the shadows.
After. the man: was gone, Beatrice whispered: “Rent-a-
 “What are:we' doing here?” Roy asked: weakly. :
In the~darkness ‘of the compartment, he. could hear
Beatrice the Bear standing up. “Tell you what I’m gonna
do, cowgirl,” she said. “I’ll- make you a little deal.”
“Go on,” said Roy.
“Pll -see that the barefoot kid gets these shoes, but only
if you ptomise to leave him alone. No more spying.”
“So you do know him!”
Beatrice hoisted Roy to his feet..
“Yeah, I-know him,” she said. “He’s my brother.”

At four-thirty in the afternoon, when Officer David

Delinko normally got off work, his desk: was still piled
high with paperwork. He had lots of forms to fill out and
‘reports to complete about what had happened to his
patrol car. He kept. writing until his wrist began. to ache,
and at six he finally. called it quits. .
The motor pool was only'a few blocks away, but the rain
was pouring:down when Officer Delinko wearily came ‘out
of the headquarters building. He didn’t want his’uniform
to get drenched, so:he waited under the' eaves, directly
beneath the capital P in COCONUT COVE PUBLIC SAFETY
DEPARTMENT.
Lots'of cities had started referring to their police forces as
“public safety” departments, a.phrase intended to promote
a softer, friendlier image. ‘Like most’ officers, David Delinko
thought the name change was pointless. A cop was a cop;

76
 : ae all

beriod. In an emergency, nobody ever yelled, “usiekl Call

the public safety department!”
“Call the police” is what they. always shonted--and
always would.
David Delinko was proud to be a polices, His father
had been: a robbery detective in Cleveland, Ohio; and
his: older brother was.a, homicide detective in - Fort
Lauderdale—and a detective is. what David. iki
ea wanted to be, someday.
_ That day, he realized sadly, was probably further in the
future than ever, thanks to the vandals at the pancake-
house construction site..
_ Officer Delinko was mulling his situation, watching.the
rain stream down, when a lightning bolt zapped: a utility
pole at the end of the street. Briskly he retreated into the
, lobby. of the headquarters building; where the ceiling
lights flickered twice and faded out.
“Aw, shoot,” Officer Delinko grumbled to himself. There
was nothing to do but wait for the storm to pass.
He couldn’t stop thinking about the bizarre incidents at
the Mother Paula’s property. First, somebody pulling: the
survey stakes;.then dumping the alligators in the latrines;
then spray-painting his squad car while he was asleep
inside—this was the work of bold and defiant perpetrators.
Immature, certainly, but still bold.
» In Officer Delinko’s experience, kids. weren’t usually
so persistent, or so daring. In typical cases of juvenile
vandalism, the crimes could be traced to a group of

77
youngsters, each trying to outdo the other for thrills.
But this wasn’t a typical case, Officer Delinko thought.
Possibly it was the work of just one person with a
grudge—or a mission.
After a while, the squall began to subside and the
thunderclouds scudded away from the center of town.
Officer Delinko covered his head with a newspaper and
made a dash for the motor-pool yard. His hand-shined
shoes were squirting water by the time he got there.
The Crown Victoria, looking as good as new, sat outside
the locked gate. Officer Delinko had asked the garage
chief to hide the car keys in the gas cap, but instead they
were inserted into the ignition, visible to anyone strolling
by. The garage chief believed nobody was loony enough to
steal a marked police car.
Officer Delinko started up the car and headed for his
apartment. Along the way he made a slow loop around the
pancake-house property, but there wasn’t a soul to be seen.
He wasn’t surprised. Criminals disliked lousy weather as
much as law-abiding citizens did.
Even when off-duty, Officer Delinko always kept the
radio in his police cruiser turned on. That was one of the
strict rules for those who were allowed to take their patrol
vehicles home with them—you must keep your ears on,
just in case a fellow officer needs help.
Tonight the dispatcher was reporting a couple of minor
fender benders and a local boy who went missing on his
bicycle during the electrical storm. Roy something-or-

78
 other. A burp of static on the radio made it hard to hear
the boy’s last name.
His parents must. be pulling their hair out, Officer
Delinko thought, but the kid’s bound to turn up safe. He’s
probably just hanging out at one of the shopping malls,
waiting for the thunder to stop.
Ten minutes later, Officer Delinko was still half-thinking
about the missing boy when he spotted a’ slender, rain-
soaked figure standing at the corner of West Oriole and the
highway. It was a boy matching the description given out
by the dispatcher: approximately five feet tall, ninety
pounds, sandy brown hair.
Officer Delinko steered his car to the curb. He rolled
down the window and called out across the intersection,
“Hey, young man!”
The boy waved and moved closer to the edge of the road.
Officer Delinko noticed that he was walking a bicycle, and
that the rear tire appeared to be flat.
“Is your name Roy?” the policeman asked.
“That’s me.”
“How about if I give you a lift?”
The kid crossed the street with his bike, which fit easily
inside the spacious trunk of the Crown Victoria. Officer
Delinko radioed the dispatcher to report that he’d located
the missing youth and that everything was fine.
“Roy, your parents are going to be mighty happy to see
~ you,” the patrolman said.
The boy smiled nervously. “I sure hope you’re right.”

79
 Silently OfficerDelinko congratulated himself. Not a
bad way to end the shift for a guy stuck. on desk duty!
Maybe this would help get him out of the captain’s dog-
house.

Roy had never been in‘a police car before. He rode in

the front seat next to the young officer, who-did most of
the talking."Roy ‘tried to be polite and keep up his’ end
of the conversation, but his mind was:swirling with what
Beattice Leep had told him about the running boy.
“My stepbrother, actually,” she’d said: ig
“What's his ieee .
“He got rid of it.”
“Why do they call him Mullet Fingers? Is he an Indian?”
Back in Bozeman, Roy had gone to school with a boy
named Charlie Three Crows.
Beatrice Leep had laughed. “No, he’s not an Indian! I
call him Mullet Fingers ‘cause he can catch mullet with
his bare hands. You know how hard that is?” ;
A mullet was a slippery, free-jumping baitfish that trav-
eled in schools of hundreds. The bay near Coconut Cove
was full of them in the spring. Throwing a cast net was the
customary:method of capture.
“Why doesn’t he live at home?” Roy had asked Beatri ice.
“Long story. Plus; none of ‘your business:”
“What about school?”
“My brother got shipped off to a ‘special’ school. He

80
 lasted two whole days, before he ram away. Then he hitch-
hiked back, all the way from Mobile, Alabama.”
“What about your parents?”
“They don’t know he’s here, and I’m not-gonna tell ’em.
Nobody is gonna tell.-You-understand?”. ..-
Roy had. solemnly given-his word. ;
After they’d sneaked out.of the auto junkyard, Beatrice
Leep had given Roy a peanut-butter cookie, which he.
gobbled: hungrily. Considering the circumstances, it’ was
the best-tasting cookie he’d ever.eaten.
Beatrice had asked how he planned. to.explain his
sietshauss to his mother and father, and Roy had admit-
ted he hadn’t figured that part out yet.
Then. Beatrice had performed. an astounding feat—
she’d lifted his bicycle by the sprockets and chomped a
hole in the rear tire, like she was’ biting into a pizza. :
Roy could only gape in amazement. The girl had. jaws
like a wolverine. “There! Now. you’ve got a flat,” she’d
said, “anda halfway decent.excuse for missing dinner.”
“Thanks. I guess.”
“So what’re you waiting for? Get‘outta here.”
What a -weird family, Roy thought. He was replaying the
tite:-biting scene in his. mind when he heard the police-
man. say; “Can I ask you something, young man?”
“Sure.”
“You go to Trace Middle, right? I was wondering if you’ve
heard.any talk.at school about stuff that’s been. happening
out where the new pancake house is supposed to go up.”

81
 “No,” Roy said, “but I saw an article in the newspaper.”
The officer shifted uneasily.
“About the alligators,” Roy added, “and the police car
getting spray-painted.”
The officer paused for a brief coughing spell. Then he
said, “You sure nobody’s been talking about it? Sometimes
the kids who pull these sorts of pranks like to brag on
themselves.”
Roy said he hadn’t heard a word. “This is my street,” he
said, pointing. “We’re the sixth house on the left.”
The policeman wheeled into the Eberhardts’ driveway
and braked to a stop. “Roy, could I ask you a favor? Could
you call me if you do hear something—anything, even a
rumor—about the Mother Paula’s situation? It’s very
important.”
The officer handed Roy a printed card. “That’s the
office line, and that’s my cellular.”
Above the phone numbers, the card said:

OFFICER DAVID DELINKO

Patrol Division
COCONUT COVE PUBLIC SAFETY DEPARTMENT

“You can call me anytime,” advised Officer Delinko.

“Just keep your eyes and your ears open, okay?”
“Right,” Roy said, not too eagerly. The policeman was
asking him to be an informant: a snitch on his own class-
mates. It seemed like a steep price to pay for a ride home.

82
 Not that Roy wasn’t appreciative, but he didn’t feel like
he owed the officer anything besides a sincere thank-you.
Wasn’t it part of a policeman’s job to help people?
Roy got out of the car and waved to his parents, who
were standing on the front steps. Officer Delinko
removed Roy’s bicycle from the trunk and set it upright,
on its kickstand. “There you go,” he said.
“Thanks,” said Roy. ;
“They'll patch that tire for you at the Exxon. Was it a
nail that got you?”
“Something like that.” |
Roy’s father came up and thanked the policeman for
bringing his son home. Roy overheard the two men ©
exchanging law-enforcement chitchat, so Roy figured his
father had told the officer he worked for the Justice
Department.
When Mr. Eberhardt went to put Roy's bicycle in the
garage, Officer Delinko lowered his voice and said, “Hey,
young man.” .
What now? Roy thought.
“Think your dad would mind writing a letter to the
police chief? Or even to my sergeant? No biggie, just a
nice note about what happened tonight. Something they
could put in my permanent file,” Officer Delinko said.
“The little things help, they really do. They add up.”
Roy nodded in a noncommittal way. “Ill ask him.”
“Terrific. You’re a solid young fellow.”
Officer Delinko got back in his car. Mrs. Eberhardt, who

83
had gone inside to get a towel, came up and pumped the
patrolman’s hand. “We were worried out of our minds.
Thank you so much.”
“Oh, it was nothing.” Officer Delinko shot a wink at
Roy.
“You've restored my faith in the police,” Roy’s mother
went on. “Honestly, I didn’t know what to think after
reading that outrageous story in the paper. The one about
that policeman who had his windows painted black!”
It was Roy’s impression that Officer Delinko suddenly
looked queasy. “You all have a good night,” he told the
Eberhardts, and turned the key in the ignition.
“Do you happen to know that fellow?” Roy’s mother
asked innocently. “The one who fell asleep inside his car.
What’s going to happen to him? Will he be fired?”
With a screech of rubber, Officer Delinko backed out of
the driveway and drove off.
“Maybe there was an emergency,” Mrs. Eberhardt said,
watching the patrol car’s taillights disappear into the
night.
“Yeah,” said Roy, smiling. “Maybe so.”