The Speculist

Raymond and Robert were gone. Lucinda and Bettina told what had happened, that the boys had been gone for more than an hour. It was seeming more and more likely that they had run into trouble.

Todd nodded. A strange look came over him.

“They did,” he said.

“Hold on, “ said Judy. “We don’t know that for sure.”

“Maybe they’re just taking their time,” said Bettina.

Todd shook his head.

“No, remember when we ducked down the alley because I saw a police roadblock ahead? There was a car stopped at the roadblock. I thought it was just a similar car, but now I don’t think so.”

“You mean it was our car?” asked Grace.

“I’m afraid so,” said Todd.

“Damn it all,” he added after a moment.

No one said anything for a while.

“What will the police do to Robert and Raymond?’ Grace asked.

“That’s nothing to worry about,” said Lucinda. “They will only ask them questions. They won’t be in trouble.”

Grace looked skeptical.

“Bet they’ll be in trouble for taking the car,” she said.

“Anyway,” Lucinda continued, “I think help may be on the way. Dr. MacHale called just a while after they left. He says he’ll be here soon. With help.”

“What?” said Todd. He darted to the window and the pulled the curtain back slightly so he could look out.

“When did he call?” Todd asked, turning to look back at Lucinda.

“I don’t know. Forty-five minutes ago, I guess.”

“When did he say they would be here?”

“He didn’t say. Soon.”

Todd dropped the curtain and stepped hastily to the front hallway. He looked through the sacks lined against the wall. It took him a moment before he realized that what he was looking for, my possessions, were not in one of the paper sacks. They were packed in a little suitcase at the end of the row. He grabbed it and brought it to me.

“I’m sorry, Corey,” he said, handing me my luggage. “I had hoped there would be more time. But there isn’t. You have to leave. Now.”

Whereupon a general hubbub broke out, with everyone talking at once and poor little Grace crying once again.

“What are you talking about?” Bettina asked, also on the verge of tears. “Why are you making him leave?”

Lucinda reached up and put her hand on the older girl’s shoulder.

“Bettina, please. We talked about this earlier and we all came to the conclusion that leaving would be the best thing for Corey. Nobody is making him leave. I think Todd just wants to have him gone before Dr. MacHale gets here.”

“But why?”

“It’s plausible deniability,” said Todd. “We don’t want to put Dr. MacHale in a position where he has to lie.”

“But what about the rest of us?” asked Bettina. “You want us to lie?”

Todd sighed.

“It’s not like that,” he said. “If anyone asks, we’re going to say that Corey left the home this morning. He did, didn’t he? If they ask where he is, we’re going to say that we don’t know. And that’s the truth. Corey left; we don’t know where he went. That’s all there is to it.”

“What if they ask if we know who he’s with?” asked Bettina.

“Do you know who he’s with?” Todd countered.

“No.”

“Then don’t worry about it.”

“What about Grace?” Bettina insisted. “She knows.”

Judy was kneeling in front of Grace, wiping her eyes.

“Grace, honey,” she said, “do remember what to say about Corey?”

Grace nodded, trembling from dry sobs.

“What do we say?”

“He left.” She sniffed loudly. “I don’t know when. I don’t know where.”

“See?” said Judy.

Estelle, who had been sitting silently in front of the TV all this time, got up and walked over to Todd. She was visibly upset. She shook her head at him.

“What is it?” he asked.

“The Lord detests lying lips, but he delights in men who are truthful.”

Todd shook his head impatiently.

“I don’t like lying any more than anybody else, but we don’t have time to debate this. Corey has to leave now. If he doesn’t, we’re going to have trouble. But if he goes, everything is going to be fine.”

“A fortune made by a lying tongue is a fleeting vapor and a deadly snare.”

“Estelle, please,” said Judy, getting up. “You aren’t helping. If you had all these objections, why didn’t you say so before?”

Estelle turned away from Todd and walked over to me. She looked me right in the eye.

“Let no one deceive you with empty words, for because of such things God's wrath comes on those who are disobedient.”

Then the strangest thing happened. I started laughing.

It wasn’t that I thought what Estelle was saying was funny, and I certainly wasn’t laughing at her predicament of being able to talk only in Bible verses, which I considered to be my fault. All the attention and concern was just too much for me. Todd, Judy, and Lucinda had devised this elaborate escape plan, and no one questioned it for a second — even though it put all of them at risk. And now here was Estelle objecting to it not on the grounds that it was too risky for her, but that it was morally compromising for me.

I found that I couldn’t take any of it any more, but I didn’t want to cry again. So I laughed.

Everyone got really quiet, but I just kept on laughing. Estelle simply stared at me, trying to understand what my reaction meant. She looked confused. A little hurt, even.

Without quite know what it I was doing, or more importantly, how one goes about doing these things, I threw my arms around her and hugged her with all my might. I didn’t stop laughing, but I didn’t let go, either. I tried to say the words “thank you,” tried to whisper them in her ear. But of course, I had no more idea of how to whisper than I did how to speak in the first place. What came out was guttural, mangled, and obnoxiously loud.

Estelle broke free from my grip and ran, crying, upstairs. Lucinda went after her.

Judy looked at me, her eyes wide.

“Corey, did you just say something?”

I nodded.

“Well, don’t you think you were kind of rough on her?” asked Bettina.

I very much wanted to explain that being rough on Estelle was the last thing in the world I wanted to do when Todd grabbed my free hand and started pulling me towards the kitchen.

“We’re out of time,” he said.

The others followed, except for Estelle and Lucinda, who were still upstairs. We stopped at the back door.

“Take the alley,” said Todd. “Watch out for the roadblocks. Stay completely out of sight until you see her.”

“Do you remember the plan?” asked Judy. I wanted to tell her that it would be hard to forget, seeing as how Todd had pounded it into us. Instead, I nodded.

“We’ll see you…soon, Corey. Take care of yourself.”

I think she was about to hug me when there was a knock at the front door.

“No time for goodbyes,” Todd whispered. “Everybody back in the living room. Now.”

He opened the back door and shoved me through it.

“Go, Corey,” he hissed. “Go now.”

___

Raymond and Robert sat in the back of the police car, which had not moved. Raymond was fidgety. He kept looking around as though he expected something in his immediate surroundings to change. Robert sat almost perfectly still. He was patiently flipping through the pages of the comic book, which he had somehow smuggled into the car, and which the police officers hadn’t bothered to take from him.

“How can you read that?” Raymond asked, agitated. “It’s too dark to see anything.”

“I can see pictures,” said Robert.

“You boys pipe down,” said the fat officer, the one in the driver’s seat.

“I thought you said we were going to the police station,” said Raymond.

The other officer, the one who had stopped them, turned to look at Raymond.

“What’s your hurry, son?”

“I want to make my phone call.”

The fat officer snorted.

“You think this is a TV show, boy? Think again. You’re both in a lot of trouble.”

Raymond was about to reply when the radio squawked the car’s ID.

The officer in the passenger seat took the microphone from it’s jack.

“Golf two one niner go ahead,” he said.

Raymond listened intently, but most of what came out of the radio was unintelligible to him. He wondered whether the police received special training to enable them to decipher what sounded to him like so much static and noise.

“That’s affirmative,” said the officer. “How long?”

The radio squawked again.

“Ten-four,” said the officer. “Golf two one niner out.”

“I didn’t catch that,” said Raymond. “How long will we have to wait?”

“Shut up,” said the fat officer.

Robert reached over and pinched Raymond’s arm, hard.

“Hey!” he exclaimed, looking over at the younger boy.

Robert pointed to the police, put a finger to his lips, and shook his head.

“I know my rights,” Raymond said.

“Yeah?” said the officer who had been on the radio. “How about the right to remain silent? Why don’t you give that one a try?”

Both officers laughed heartily.

Robert leaned over and muttered as quietly as he could:

“We’re supposed to be developmentally challenged. Remember?”

The fat officer turned and looked at them.

“Hey, no whispering. What did you say, boy?”

“I can see pictures,” said Robert, holding up the comic book for him to see.

The officer visibly softened.

“Well, that’s all right, then,” he said. “Did that one” — he pointed to Raymond — “make you go along with him?”

“See the pictures?” said Robert.

“Sure,” said the officer. “They’re real nice. We’ll have you out of here soon.”

“Nice pictures,” said Robert.

Raymond rolled his eyes. I will be damned, he thought, to an inadequate translation of Dante’s Inferno before I play “retarded kid” for these morons.

A flash of headlights from behind indicated the approach of another car. A limousine pulled along side the squad car. The driver hopped out to open the passenger door. A distinguished looking man wearing a trench coat emerged. A black man.

“This can’t be right,” said the fat officer.

“They said it was a court order,” said the other. “Let’s see if he has the paperwork.”

He got out of the car to meet the distinguished-looking man. They exchanged a few words, then the older man produced a sheaf of papers from the pocket of his coat. The officer thumbed through them for a moment, nodding as he read. Finally he handed them back. He turned to face fat officer and nodded at him.

“That’s it, then, boys,” said the officer, getting out of the car. He walked around and opened the backseat door on Robert’s side.

“Out you go,” he said.

“Who are you turning us over to?” asked Raymond, peering out the open door over Robert‘s shoulder, suddenly feeling no great desire to leave the police car.”

“Stone,” the cheerful voice answered. “My name is Julian Stone.”

He spoke with an accent Raymond had never heard before. It was a lilting, almost poetic way of speaking. Against all reason, Raymond felt reassured.

“Let’s go, boys,” said the officer, with a tinge of impatience.

Robert turned to look at Raymond. Raymond nodded at him.

“I think it’s going to be okay,” he said.

 

___

Judy opened the door just a crack. Three men stood on the porch, MacHale not among them.

“Yes?” she said.

“Open up, kid,” said the young man in the middle. The three men were stern looking. They were dressed in suits. Judy took an immediate disliking to them, particularly the one in the middle. He looked quite a bit younger than the other two, and was apparently in charge.

“Identify yourselves, please,” said Judy.

“Federal Agents. Your friend Dr. MacHale sent us.”

Judy shut the door tight and turned around. All of the children, including Estelle and Lucinda — who had been quickly summoned from upstairs — were seated “casually” around the living room per Todd’s instructions. Judy, who had now been involved in staging a number of plays, observed that the whole tableau couldn’t possibly look any phonier if they had tried. She had never seen her friends looking less casual than this.

“They’re from the government,” she said.

“”No kidding,” Todd replied, annoyed. “I’m not deaf, you know. Any more.”

“What do we do?” Judy asked.

“We let them in,” said Lucinda. “We’re hardly in a position to take a stand against armed Federal agents.”

“But why did Dr. MacHale go to them?” asked Bettina. “He betrayed us.”

“Maybe he didn’t have a choice,” said Lucinda.

“Maybe they got to him first,” said Todd.

Judy turned back around and opened the door a bit wider.

“Where is Dr. MacHale? If he went to you, why isn’t he with you now?”

“Why don’t you let us in, and we’ll explain the whole thing?” said the man in the middle.

“I’d like to see some identification,” she said.

The agents on either side seemed mildly amused by this. The man in the middle did not. He reached in his coat pocket and produced an identification badge, which he held up for Judy to see. She studied it for a while.

“All right,” she said. “That seems to be in order. Now answer my question. Where is Dr. MacHale?”

The agent in charge put his badge back in his pocket.

“Look, kid, I showed you my badge. You have no grounds for refusing us entry.”

Judy shook her head.

“Meaning no disrespect, sir, but your FBI credentials do not constitute a search warrant in and of themselves. Lacking a warrant, which you have not shown, I believe you must be able to demonstrate probable cause if you wish to justify a forced a entry. What crime are you investigating?”

The two agents on either side no longer looked amused. The man in the middle cocked his head ever so slightly and seemed to consider his next words.

“I there a boy named Todd here?” he finally asked.

“Yes.”

“Would it be all right if I had a word with him?”

Todd started to get up from the couch.

“No,” Judy said abruptly. “You may not. It’s passed his bedtime.”

Todd shrugged and sat back down.

“Young lady, are you aware that obstruction of justice is a serious criminal offense?

“I’m ready to cooperate fully, sir, as soon as you produce a warrant or state your grounds for demanding entry.”

“We’re here to help, kid. And your friend MacHale will be here shortly.”

Judy smiled.

“I’m very glad to hear that. As soon as he arrives, you may come in.”

She shut the door and bolted it.

“Well, now what do we do?” asked Bettina.

“We wait,” said Todd. “Either Dr. MacHale shows up or they break the door down. Either way, I think we’ll know pretty soon.

Judy nodded.

“In the mean time, maybe we should offer them something to drink. Does anybody know how to make coffee?”

___

The car stank of cigarettes. It was a familiar smell; my father’s car had always smelled like that.

Sybil Lufts sat to my left. We were making our way slowly along a crisscrossing pattern from one side of town to the other. She had her headlights off and had so far used alleys and (in one instance) a drive straight through a schoolyard to avoid the various police roadblocks.

“All your big planning, and you kids didn’t even consider that the town is under lockdown,” she said.

She drove on, shaking her head.

“This is crazy. We should go back to my place right now. We could leave in the morning. What difference would it make?”

Probably none, I realized. But Todd didn’t think it was worth the risk. He would have preferred I leave town that morning, if it had been possible. He considered it a serious blunder that Dr. MacHale saw me in the home. A “pure” disappearance would have been best.

In any case, Sybil kept on driving, in spite of her objections. Occasionally she would mutter something about $8,000 and Those Damn Kids or Those Stupid Kids or Those Crazy Kids. She also appeared to be having a couple of internal conversations and, from time to time, she would speak her end out loud.

“This is all for you, Jo,” she would say, or “The boy’s going to be fine.”

I took these comments to be aimed at Grace’s mother.

Then there was someone with whom she was very angry.

“You son of a bitch. You stupid ugly worthless piece of shit. I should have called the cops on you. If I weren’t so scared of them myself, I would have.”

She drove on for a while and added

“I should have killed you when I had the chance.”

I knew, logically, that these remarks were not intended for me. For one thing, she still had every opportunity to kill me on the spot if that was her intention. With the individual she had in mind, her chance had apparently passed. Even so, it was frightening. I had never heard anyone talk that way, except for on television. Even my mother, when enraged with me or my father, never went that far.

Sybil turned to me and continued.

“That was the other time I did this, you know. Left in the middle of the night like a criminal.”

I nodded, having no idea what she was talking about.

“Well, I’m not a criminal. I wasn’t then. I’m not now. Even if your $8,000 is stolen — which of course it must be — the law is against knowingly receiving stolen goods. I’m sure you stole it, but I don’t know you did. Right?”

I nodded again, momentarily glad that I couldn’t talk. Had I possessed that ability, I might have made the mistake of pointing out the weakness of her argument. And that would not have been a wise thing to do. Not at all.

“Right,” she continued. “They’ve got nothing on me. I haven’t done anything wrong. I’m just trying to do a favor for an old friend. There’s no law against that.”

We had come out to Main Street well beyond downtown and were heading north towards Denver. For a moment we drove along at a good pace. Then Sybil slowed the car as we approached the exit ramp for the Interstate. Two State Patrol cars were parked across either lane.

“Well, here goes nothing,” she muttered.

I was astounded at her stupidity. To carefully avoid every roadblock in town only to drive straight up to the first one she encountered outside of town made absolutely no sense. When she began chatting out loud to herself, I suspected it, but now I know for certain. She was insane. My friends had turned me over to a madwoman, who was now going to turn me in to the police.

A State trooper approached the car. Sybil rolled down her window.

“Hi,” she said, smiling.

“Evening, ma’am,” said the trooper. “Main street is closed. Are you aware that there’s a curfew in effect?”

“Yes sir. The Greenwood police were good enough to let me through. Captain Donnely’s orders.”

The trooper raised his eyebrows.

“Is that so?”

“Yes sir. But I guess they made a mistake. It looks like the valley highway is closed?”

“Technically, no. But you better have a full tank of gas. If we decide to let you on at all. Northbound there are no exits open before Cheyenne. Southbound you can’t get off before Pueblo.”

“Even Colorado Springs is blocked off?”

The trooper nodded.

“The National Guard has left the highway in our hands for now. That’ll probably change pretty soon. But in the mean time, they don’t want any traffic heading west.”

“Well, I need to go east. To Deer Trail.”

“And why is that?”

She cocked her head towards me.

“Actually, it’s police business.”

The trooper bent down, puzzled, and looked into the car. I avoided his gaze. Here it was. Police business. She was turning me in.

“I don’t follow you,” he said.

“I’m sure you know my uncle, Major Lufts?”

The trooper straightened back up.

“Bill Lufts is your uncle?”

Sybil nodded.

“This is his grandson, little Billy. Uncle Bill wants him away from the mountains. We have family in Deer trail.”

He thought about this for a moment.

“Where are the boy’s parents?”

“My cousin and his wife were in Grand Junction when it happened. Billy was staying with me for a few days. Now they’re stuck on the west slope.”

She turned to me.

“But don’t you worry, Billy. They’ll meet us in Deer Trail in day or two.”

I didn’t look up again. I had no idea what Sybil expected of me.

“He’s kind of upset,” she explained.

The trooper nodded.

“Well, we won’t hold you up any longer,” he said. “You’ll come to another roadblock when you get to the turnoff for 70. Just tell them what you told me.”

“I certainly will, Officer…”

“Stevens.”

“Officer Stevens. Thank you very much for your help.” She started to roll up her window.

“Oh, there’s just one other thing,” she said, beckoning him back to the car.

“Uncle Bill wants radio silence on this subject. I know you would probably want to radio ahead, but please don’t. I’ll explain the situation to the other officers as soon as I get to the next roadblock.”

“But why…?”

She nodded towards me again.

“It’s his only grandchild, officer. In times like these, who can blame him if he’s a little over-cautious?”

“I see,” he said.

Sybil rolled her window back up and proceeded on to the highway. It wasn’t long before we were making very good time.

“What an idiot,” she said after a while. “He never even asked me to show any ID. For all he knew, I could have been making the whole thing up.”

I studied her for a moment, not sure now what to do with my insanity hypothesis. On the one hand, she had got us through the roadblock and onto the open road. On the other hand, did she not know that she had made the whole thing up?

She looked at me and smiled.

“Not bad, eh?” she said. “One good thing about my line of work. You meet a lot of cops. I always figured that drunken old bastard Bill Lufts might come in handy someday. No real relation, you understand. Just the same last name. I thought if I ever got in a jam, I would just say I was his neice. And he fell for it.”

She shook her head.

“Never even asked to see any ID. Idiot.”

We rode on in silence. There were few other cars on the road. It wasn’t long before we came to the turn-off for Interstate 70. A few dozen cars were lined up, waiting to get through the roadblock. Sybil just slid over into the left lane and hit the accelerator.

Apparently Deer Trail wasn’t really our destination. We were heading north. Where to, Sybil didn’t say.

At least to Cheyenne, I thought.