Read Online The Balloon Man by Charlotte MacLeod - Free Book Online

Max. I'd already covered the
     place like a blanket and hit one dead end after another.”
    “You're mixing your metaphors. No luck finding Louie?”
    “No, sir. So I got to talking to Jennifer—that's her name, Jennifer—and we, well, we decided we'd split, and some of the others
     decided they'd come, too, and we went to the Bucket of Clams, and what with one thing and another … You aren't mad, are you,
     sir?”
    In fact Max was marveling over the repeated “sirs.” Before he and Sarah had taken Jesse in hand, that word would never have
     passed the childish lips of any of Lionel's offspring. A string of obscenities would have been more likely. It was necessary
     to maintain discipline, however, which he did by keeping a stony silence.
    “Aw, come on, Uncle Max. I'd have told you right away if I'd found any trace of the old geezer. Don't tell me you never got
     distracted by a pretty girl starving for clams?”
    “Never,” Max said stoutly, crossing all the fingers he could spare. A lie of that magnitude demanded more fingers, and probably
     his toes as well, but the latter were inside his slippers and inaccessible.
    “What do you want me to do now?” Jesse asked humbly.
    “Nothing. I'll let you know Stay cool,” he added, hoping that attempt at modern lingo didn't date him too badly.
    Brooks wasn't at the office, so Max tried the Tulip Street house. Sarah had inherited the place from her husband and had run
     it as a boardinghouse while the lawyers were trying to straighten out the complex train of illegal second mortgages and general
     chicanery instigated by Caroline Kelling and her lover. It was during that period of her life that Sarah had formed close
     friendships with Mariposa and her significant other, Charles, who now ran the house for Brooks and Theonia and any other members
     of the family who happened to be in Boston.
    Brooks answered on the second ring. His first question made Max's hackles rise.
    “Is everything all right?”
    “Why shouldn't it be?”
    “Didn't you read Theonia's note?”
    “What note? Damn it,” Max sputtered, “can't we stop conversing in questions?”
    “If you prefer,” Brooks said agreeably. “She said she'd slipped a note into your pocket yesterday, before we left for Anora's.”
    “It must still be there, then. What did it say?” Realizing he had slipped back into the interrogatory mode, Max answered his
     question with the one Brooks would logically have asked. “Why don't I read it? Yeah, right, I will. That's not the reason
     I called. Something odd has happened. Rememberthat ruby parure that was stolen from the safe-deposit box?”
    “The Kelling parure? How could I forget? Don't tell me”
    Max told him. Brooks let out a long musical whistle, probably the call of some exotic bird or other, had Max been able to
     identify it.
    “Well, well, fancy that. I won't waste your time in idle theorizing, Max, since I'm sure the various possibilities have already
     occurred to you. Yes indeed, a business conference is definitely in order. Will you come here, or shall we come to you?”
    Max had already worked it out. “We'll come there. I want to get Uncle Jem and Egbert back to Pinckney Street; they stayed
     overnight, you know, since Egbert doesn't like to drive after dark. I'm not happy about the old boy driving before dark, either,
     especially in city traffic, and I'd been trying to think of a way of playing chauffeur without hurting Egbert's feelings.
     I'll head on over to Tulip Street after I deliver them, and you and Theonia, or Jesse, or somebody, depending on how the investigation
     develops, can drive me home tomorrow.”
    “Excellent,” Brooks said crisply. “Is there something you want me to do right away? I had planned to spend the morning cleaning
     up the matter of those missing Utrillos, but—”
    “No, that's fine. At the moment I don't know what the hell is going on, much less what to do about it.”
    When he returned to the kitchen to