"I know Crazy Wig," Billy said. "He is well named."
"You know everybody," I said to Billy.
"You haunt a hotel for forty-three years, and you meet them all," he said.
CHAPTER 57
Fat Cat in the Hat
"How many Melvin the shamans do you suppose there are?" I asked. We were in Aaron Finn's Packard, heading for the Brown Derby.
"Just the one," Billy the Phantom Bellboy said.
"Then how can he be in two or more places at the same time?"
"Don't try to figure it out. It will just make you dizzy," Billy said. "Shamans can do stuff. You know how people always say there's a reasonable explanation for things like this? Well, there isn't."
"What did Melvin the shaman tell you when you met him in Canada?" Seamus asked.
"He said you boys were fine, and everything was going fine, and there's nothing to worry about," Aaron Finn said. "And he also said there was some kind of major calamity about to happen, the city of Los Angeles was in danger, and civilization as we know it might be coming to an end. Then he asked for an autographed picture of me. I gave him an eight-by-ten glossy."
"That's sort of a mixed message," Iggy said.
"We thought the same thing," Aaron Finn said. "But you know how these shamans are. They're cryptic."
My parents and my sister, Eloise, were sitting in a booth at the Brown Derby. Eloise was wearing sunglasses and had a scarf on her head. She held her hand out elegantly. "Mr. Finn, such a pleasure to see you again, and Billy, the specter—I hope you're both well. Hello, dear little brother, and your charming child friends."
"This place smells great," Billy said.
"I understand you have a part in a drama, Miss Eloise," Aaron Finn said.
"Oh, it's just a juvenile exercise," Eloise said. "A school play. But we actors must practice our art if we want to improve, as I am sure you agree."
"Oh, quite," Aaron Finn said. "I take a fencing lesson every day."
"Do you recommend that, Mr. Finn?" my sister asked. "I want to improve my craft."
"Oh, yes, I highly recommend fencing as exercise," Aaron Finn said. "And it's called for in roles surprisingly often."
"I will make a note of that," Eloise said. "And thank you for sharing such valuable information with a mere beginner."
It struck me as a little bit strange that Eloise was saying everything with an English accent—but then, many things she did were strange.
"Let's order," my father said. "And please notice, the waiter will come around with a pepper grinder the size of a baseball bat, and crank it right onto your salad."
My father ordered the Broiled Filet of Swordfish with Lemon Butter. My mother ordered the Scalloped Chicken Paprika with Noodles Polonaise. Eloise ordered Medallions of Lobster with Mushrooms, Queen of Sheba. Seamus, Iggy, Aaron Finn, and I ordered Spaghetti Derby, which is a specialty of the house—it turned out to be spaghetti in mushroom sauce, but it was pretty good. Billy sniffed everything.
"What's that horrible noise?" my mother asked.
We all heard it. It was a ghastly sucking, slurping, smacking kind of sound. Something about it made me cringe all up my spine. We looked around. At another table, a man was eating. He was pale and bald, and had a sort of egg-shaped head, gold-rimmed eyeglasses, and an expression that was between a crooked smile and a snarl. He had on an expensive-looking blue suit. There were three waiters hovering around his table as he hunched over a bowl of something, spooning it in and making those hideous noises.
"You know who that is?" Aaron Finn asked. I knew before he said it. "That gentleman is Sholmos Bunyip, head of International Mammon Studios, the most feared and hated man in Hollywood, and, I am sorry to say, my boss."
Sholmos Bunyip noticed Aaron Finn and sort of grunted in his direction. He wasn't looking directly at me, but I still felt a sick shiver.
Billy the Phantom Bellboy lifted his nose into the air and sniffed deeply. "You'll never guess what he's eating," Billy said.
I guessed. "Turtle soup?"
"You got it, Neddie," Billy said.
"He looks so ... evil," my mother said.
"Could you introduce us?" Eloise said. "I'm sure it's not his fault that he looks like Satan, and maybe I could ask him to give me a job acting in a movie."
"It's not a good idea to approach him while he's eating," Aaron Finn said. "There's a story that he was on a hunting trip and shot one of his friends who came near him while he was having a sandwich."
Sholmos Bunyip had abandoned his spoon and was splashing the turtle soup into his mouth with his bare hands.
"Anyone for grapefruit cake?" Aaron Finn said. "It's a specialty of the house."
"Not for me," my father said.
"I think I need to get out in the air," my mother said.
"I may be sick," Iggy said.
"Of course," Aaron Finn said. "Excuse my insensitivity. It's a little shocking for regular people to see Mr. Bunyip. It doesn't bother actors, of course—we're used to frightening table manners."
CHAPTER 58
Night
When we got out of the Brown Derby, we were all sort of quiet. We were a little shaken. Seeing Sholmos Bunyip, in addition to being disgusting for the obvious reasons, had a bad effect on all of us. My Spaghetti Derby wasn't sitting well.
Seamus was going home with his father, so he wouldn't be staying on my bedporch. He went off in the Packard, and we Wentworthsteins, and Iggy, headed for the Hermione in the yellow Cadillac.
I had bad dreams. Sholmos Bunyip was in them. I woke up—it must have been around three in the morning. I wasn't scared the way you usually are when you wake up from a nightmare. In fact, I felt extremely calm. Then I did something I could never have explained.
I got out of bed. I moved through the dark apartment. In my pajamas, I went out into the corridor. I pressed the button for the elevator. I wasn't sure if I was really doing this or if it was another dream. I came out into the empty lobby, with half the lights turned off and the smell of freshly mopped floor. There was no one around.
I went out the side door, into the garden, and down along the side of the building. It was quiet outside in the dark. I made my way to the back of the building, past the incinerator and the garbage cans and into the thick weeds and scrub trees. It was as though I knew where I was going, but I didn't exactly.
There were the old abandoned tennis courts that nobody used anymore. And there was the old swimming pool. There were a few twigs and branches floating on top, and when I lowered myself in, I stood on a coating of soggy leaves. I swam out to the middle. The water was not too bad, fairly warm. It was a weird thing to do, getting into the old swimming pool in the middle of the night—but I somehow felt very satisfied, as if this was exactly where I belonged. I floated on my back and looked up at the stars. It was peaceful. It was more than peaceful. I was happy. I don't think I had ever been any happier.
Then I realized I wasn't alone. I wasn't the only one swimming. It came up slowly, a dark shape in the darkness. Round. Huge. It rose up out of the water. I knew right away what it was.
I wasn't scared for a second. Just the opposite—I felt this tremendous ... warmth. No, not warmth ... joy. Oh, it was more than joy. It was ... just the biggest kind of love. Love. This gigantic turtle, as big as a car, and so impossibly old, and I was brimming over with love for it.
And it loved me. I could see its old turtle head now, and its old turtle eye, could hear it breathing and feel it moving in the water right in front of me—and it was just radiating the purest kind of love. And it was wise. It knew everything, had seen everything—and it was telling me things—telling me things without words, things that couldn't be told in words. The best I can do—the best way I can translate what the great turtle told me—is to say that this is a beautiful world, and it wants to take care of us. I'm pretty sure I was crying.
We just floated there, the great turtle and me. It went on for a long time, maybe half an hour. Then the turtle
sank down into the dark water. I climbed out of the pool, took off my pajamas and wrung them out, put them back on, and went back into the hotel.
CHAPTER 59
Rolling Doughnut
Iggy was sitting in the lobby when I came down.
"So, you ready to head for the Rolling Doughnut?" I asked her.
"That is no way to ask someone to go on a date," Iggy said.
"What date? It's Sunday morning. We always go to the Rolling Doughnut."
"Where is Seamus?" Iggy asked.
"He isn't here," I said.
"Right. So we are not going to the Rolling Doughnut as an acceptable group activity for young people. It's just you and me, so ask me properly."
This was not a problem for me, because I had read that etiquette book in the Brown-Sparrow library. I bowed, and said, "Miss Yggdrasil, would you do me the honor of accompanying me to the Rolling Doughnut for an outdoor breakfast?"
"Yes, Mr. Neddie," Iggy said. "I would be pleased to be your guest at breakfast."
I offered Iggy my arm, and we went out the door.
"You understand, this means you pay," she said.
There were no customers when we arrived at the Rolling Doughnut. Instead of stepping up to the little window, Iggy went and sat at one of the picnic tables.
"Don't you want to order a doughnut and coffee?" I asked. She gave me a dirty look. "Oh. I get it. Miss Yggdrasil, may I offer you some refreshment?"
"Thank you, Mr. Neddie," Iggy said. "I will have a raspberry Bismarck and a medium coffee, black, please."
She's having a raspberry Bismarck? I thought to myself. When will this strange mood end? I got Iggy her Bismarck and coffee. For myself I chose the Hollywood health doughnut, whole-wheat with seeds, and a coffee with double cream and double sugar.
As we were eating our first doughnuts of the morning, I vaguely noticed two gray station wagons pulling up to the curb in the little side street beside the Rolling Doughnut. This was nothing especially interesting in itself. More interesting was that six fat men got out of each of the wagons.
All of them had suede shoes with thick crepe rubber soles, crewcuts, and plaid sport jackets. Also, they all wore horn-rimmed glasses, and had knitted neckties. I would say they all weighed about three hundred pounds and were of medium height. I couldn't say why, but I had the feeling that I had seen them somewhere before.
The twelve fat men all got two Bismarcks apiece, and cups of Postum, and carried them to the picnic tables. Two of them sat at the table to the right of ours, two of them sat at the table to the left, two at the table behind us, and two at the table in front. And four of them sat at our table, one on either side of Iggy, and one on either side of me!
"Do you mind if we sit here?" one of them asked, when they were already seated.
"Perfectly all right," I said.
"There's something funny about these guys," Iggy said.
"I know," I said. "They're cops of some sort." I didn't know why I said that, or how I knew it, but I did.
"Very astute, young man," one of the fat guys said.
"We are cops."
"Los Angeles cops?"
"No."
"State cops?"
"No."
"FBI?"
"Not that either."
"International Police?"
"You're getting warm."
"Wait! You don't mean to tell us that..."
The fat guy put his finger to his lips. "Let's just say that it took us quite a long time to get to this doughnut stand." He flipped open a wallet and showed me a badge made of some kind of green metal, and there was a card with his picture and writing in something that looked like Arabic or Hebrew, but it wasn't.
"We just want to ask a few questions. You're not in any trouble—with us," the fat policeman said.
CHAPTER 60
Just the Facts
"You're the kid with the turtle, right?" he asked me.
"Maybe I am," I said.
"Don't be cute with us, son," the fat cop from some other planet said. "Let's see the turtle."
"Better show him," Iggy said. "They weigh about two tons, collectively."
I dug out my turtle. The cop turned it over in his fingers. "What do you say, Frank? This the turtle?"
One of the other cops examined the turtle. "It's a clever copy, that's all," Frank said. "You can buy them like this for two space zlotys in that big drugstore on Spiegel 4."
"What about it, son?" the first cop asked me. "Is this the only turtle you've got?"
"Only one," I said. "Where's the real one?"
"Not sure," I said.
"Think hard, punk," the fat cop said. "What's your best guess where it is?"
"We think a guy name of Sholmos Bunyip probably has it by now," I said.
"Lordbuckley! I hope he's wrong!" Frank said.
"Why? Would that be a bad thing?" I asked.
"This Bunyip is a fat cat and a bad hat," the cop said.
"If he has the turtle ... well, your world might be more or less sort of doomed."
"I don't suppose you'd like to explain why," I said.
"I don't mind," the cop from space said. "You know—what is it—evolution?"
"Sure," I said.
"Well, we have reason to believe it might start going in the other direction, fast—and if it happens, it's going to start right here in L.A."
"I never heard of such a thing," I said.
"It's not all that common," the cop said. "But every so often, it tries to happen."
"Tries to?"
"Well, I'm no scientist," the cop said. "But there's supposed to be someone equipped with that turtle we're talking about to keep things running in the usual direction, time-wise."
"That's what the turtle is for? How does it work?"
"As I said, I'm just a cop. We were led to believe you had the turtle and knew all about it."
"Are you going to take it away from Bunyip?" I asked. "He's supposed to be pretty evil."
"Oh, he's evil," the cop said. "But we can't take it away from him."
"Why not?"
"Well, we're cops. We can't go around taking people's property away. Did he steal the turtle?"
"No. I imagine he bought it," I said.
"Did the person he bought it from steal it?"
"No. I know he bought it," I said.
"Well, there you are. Anyway, it's not our jurisdiction. We're just here to get some facts. If there had been a problem, we would have told you to call the LAPD."
"So you're not going to do anything?"
"We are going to leave, is what we're going to do," the cop said. "Thanks for your cooperation, sir. Here is my card. Feel free to call me if you need anything, as soon as your planet gets interstellar phone service. And be on the lookout for glyptodons, saber-tooth cats, mammoths, and the like. If you see anything like that ... well, good luck."
The cops bought four dozen Bismarcks, got into the two gray station wagons, and drove away.
Iggy and I looked at each other.
"You believe that?" I asked.
"I'm not sure," Iggy said. "You know, there are lots of weirdballs in Hollywood. And what was with the station wagons? Wouldn't you have expected space cops to turn up in a flying saucer or something? There was nothing about them that suggested any space man I ever heard of."
"They knew about the turtle," I said.
"Weren't you telling me that half the people you meet know about the turtle?" Iggy asked.
"This is true."
"I am withholding judgment until we get more information," Iggy said.
CHAPTER 61
More Information
"Look! Here comes the Leprechaun Man," Iggy said.
The Leprechaun Man was our name for one of the Hollywood weirdballs who came around the Rolling Doughnut fairly regularly. He always wore a blue blazer with brass buttons, and a ship captain's hat, and he talked to himself, mostly about the Little People.
"Aroo, arrah, it's the end of
the world entirely," the Leprechaun Man said to no one in particular. "Whisht—it's bad cess to us all. We're banjaxed for a fact. There's to be lashings of giants, and ballyhooly, with the banshee screaming, bedad. And no one to help us but the Gentle People, macushla—or some similar crazy little eejits."
He got his doughnut and wandered off, mumbling and lilting.
"Proves nothing, one way or the other," I said. "He's always talking about disasters and giants and the Good Folk—besides, he's an utter loony."
"Sure and he is that," Iggy said.
CHAPTER 62
Who Else?
"I wonder who else will show up this morning," I said.
"My coffee got cold while those fat space cops were talking," Iggy said.
"I'll get you another one," I said.
Just then, Aaron Finn pulled up in his Packard convertible. Seamus and Billy the Phantom Bellboy were with him. "What ho, chaps?" Aaron Finn said.
"There were cops from space here," I said.
"Well, it was twelve fat guys who said they were space cops," Iggy put in.
"They said that Sholmos Bunyip was evil, and the world might be more or less sort of doomed."
"That could be serious," Aaron Finn said.
"They said it had to do with the turtle, in some way that they didn't make clear," I said. "And it's a bad thing that Sholmos Bunyip has it. I feel sort of responsible."
"Oh, because you stashed the turtle at Stuffed Stuff 'n' Stuff?" Seamus said. "You shouldn't blame yourself, Neddie. It was a perfectly reasonable place to hide it."
"Is anybody getting doughnuts?" Billy the Phantom Bellboy asked. "I'm dying for a sniff."
"We should really have a talk with Sergeant Caleb, also known as Melvin the shaman," Aaron Finn said. "He's the one who gave you the turtle in the first place, and the only person I can think of who might know what it's all about."
"It's hard to get Melvin to give out information," Iggy said. "We tried one time, and it wasn't all that satisfactory. However, if you'd like to give it a shot, you may, because here he comes."
The Neddiad: How Neddie Took the Train, Went to Hollywood, and Saved Civilization Page 13
