“You still here? What do you want?”
“An appointment with Mr. Slade, please.”
She shook her head no, then did her best to ignore him while she stared rigidly at her computer screen and typed away. Every so often she glanced in his direction and frowned.
For the next hour Jeep sat with the I-want-you-to-like-me expression on his face, like he had nothing else in the world to do (which was true).
“I want you to leave, now,” she finally snapped.
“Of course, happy to—as soon as I get an appointment.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Maybe I don’t need an appointment—if you’ll let me see Mr. Slade without one.” She’s one step away from being polite to me.
“You’re not going to make this easy for me, are you?” Her face relaxed a trifle.
“I’d like to go away right this minute, honest. But I have to see him. I doubt either one of us wants me back here tomorrow to start all over again.”
That did it. Worn down by his positive persistence, she folded. “You win. I’ll let you in, but only for five minutes. Then you promise to leave without a fuss, right?”
“That’s all I want.” First round for me, but that’s just the warm-up. I’ve got to do better with the boss.
Miss Kublic ushered him in, with a comment to her boss that the boy would only stay a few minutes. The inner office was deluxe, with dark, heavy polished furniture and shiny brass accents. Mr. Slade was a slender, silver-haired man spoke and moved with clipped efficiency. Never a wasted movement. His clothes fit him like they were made for him, and everything in his office screamed “expensive.” Not surprisingly, he was on guard and impatient to get rid of Jeep.
Jeep wasted no time. “Mr. Slade, I’m here to speak for the animals. I understand you own the property next to the zoo. I want you to donate it to the zoo. The animals need it.”
“Young man, that land is not available. We’re getting ready to build there.”
“I know, that’s why it’s so important that you act right away—before building starts.”
“It’s out of the question, there’s a lot of money involved.”
“Can’t you at least think about it?”
“Absolutely not. Nothing to discuss. Why’d I even consider what you’re asking for?”
“I’ll give you two reasons.” Jeep counted on his fingers: “One, it’s hard to build along a ravine, so you’d be smarter to put that factory on flatter land somewhere else. Two, that loud construction noise will frighten the animals for a long time. Then operating the factory will make a racket once it’s built. No question, they’ll suffer from all those sounds.
They’re already having a hard time being so crowded up as far as possible from where your factory will be.
Besides, I guess this must be three, wouldn’t that gully make a nice animal enclosure without cages?”
He finished on a pleading note. Mr. Slade didn’t even take time to think about Jeep’s arguments. “Young man, I’d have to be crazy to take your suggestion seriously. You don’t know the first thing about business.”
“That’s true, sir. But I do know the first thing about animals.”
Mr. Slade thought for a moment. “Really? Perhaps you do¼ Then maybe you can tell me what’s wrong with my parrot. His feathers keep falling out and he doesn’t talk anymore.” He gestured across the room.
A large parrot slumped on its stand in the corner of the office. It sat so still Jeep didn’t notice it was there until Mr. Slade mentioned it. At one time the bird must have been covered with bright, beautiful feathers. But there weren’t many of them left. Instead, pimply, pinkish skin showed through what few feathers remained. Its head drooped on its scrawny neck. It only took Jeep a glance to see that the bird was going downhill fast.
Jeep approached the bird, still without a clue of what to do next. I’ll fail, sure as shooting but at least Grikkl will know I tried. Whoa¼ Now’s not the time for giving up. Something’s wrong—maybe I can get the bird to tell me.
Jeep turned to Mr. Slade. “Sir, I think I know something about his problem. If you will please go and bring me a large magnifying glass, I’ll be able to give you an answer shortly. What’s his name?”
Jeep really didn’t need the magnifying glass, but he did need to get Mr. Slade out of the room for a minute.
“Rubens,” said the man as he left.
Jeep approached the bird. “Rubens, I want to help you if I can. Do you know why your feathers have fallen out?
“Sure, I pulled them out myself,” answered the bird, almost proudly.
“But why? What could possibly make you do that to yourself?”
“If you must know, Mr. Slade is driving me insane. I can’t stand it anymore.”
“But if you continue, you’ll get really sick or worse.... That’s not smart.”
“Whatever it takes,” Rubens answered with a shrug. “I’m prepared to kill myself—commit parrotcide—if I have to.”
“Surely not! That can’t be the answer!”
“I’ve run out of choices. Since he’s driving me crazy, why shouldn’t I act like a loony bird?” Rubens asked, in a way that didn’t sound like he was crazy at all.
“That’s pretty extreme. Isn’t there another answer?”
“Can’t think of one.”
“What’s he doing to you that’s so bad? He looks like a reasonable man.”
“Mr. Slade has a mighty fine music system in here—the best. Up until recently he played the classics—you know, Mozart, Handel, Beethoven. It was wonderful. That music fed my spirit—made me soar inside.
“Then about a month ago he started playing Country and Western songs all day long. Can you believe it? Country and Western—all that yammering about misery and heartbreak! It’s terrible, I tell you—it’s more than a bird can bear!”
Jeep was dumbfounded. “That’s it? You don’t like the music? You’d commit parrotcide over music?”
“Now you’re getting it.”
“Can’t you learn to like Country and Western?” The bird’s horrified expression made Jeep drop that idea. “OK then. What if I could get the music back like it was? Would you stop this foolishness and let your feathers grow back?”
“That’s all I want. That blasted Country and Western music gets me depressed.”
“Everything else is OK with you? What about food? Anything else you’d rather have?”
“Now that you ask—I’d rather eat Livermore Parrot Treats.”
“I’ll see what I can do—but you’ve got to stop this nonsense. Deal?”
“Deal.”
For the first time, Rubens took a good look at Jeep. “Who are you, anyway? Dr. Doolittle making a house call?”
Just then, Mr. Slade returned, bearing a large round magnifying glass”
Jeep used it to look the parrot over up close—peering into its eyes, feet, and feathers. He tried to act like he actually was a doctor in the process of making his diagnosis.
“Mr. Slade, we’re lucky we got to Rubens in time—a very serious case, indeed. The worst I’ve encountered. I know what’s troubling your bird. With your help we can soon have him healthy again.”
“Well, out with it, then.”
“It’s about parrot psychology. Birds are very sensitive and I’m afraid Rubens’ will to live has been weakened. He requires healing surroundings to rebuild his enthusiasm for life. In my experience, music can help to speed up recovery. Certain music increases their vibration level, and that’s a key to health. Animals respond well to the classics. So I recommend that you play a steady diet of Beethoven, Chopin, and Mozart for him.”
“You think that’s it?” Mr. Slade asked scornfully.
“Certainly not! There’s a psychological factor as well, which I’ve taken into account. However, if you follow my advice, I’m sure Rubens can be a healthy bird again very soon.”
“I doubt that music can make much difference. But I’ll play the classics
, for a while, anyway. This better work, young man.”
They talked further about Ruben’s health, the changes in diet, and importance of soothing sounds for healing.
Jeep was smart enough to know it’s best to leave on a high note. He gave a wave to the bird, “Goodbye, Rubens.”
As he walked out, his final words hung in the air, “Think about the zoo property. I’ll be back.”
Since Jeep was already gone, he didn’t see Mr. Slade’s stunned look when the parrot responded, “Goodbye, Jeep—Be seeing you.”
~~~
When Jeep phoned the office three days later, Miss Kublic treated him with respect. “Mr. Slade was most insistent. He needs to see you right away. Can you come at
four o’clock today?”
“This afternoon will do fine.”
“Very good, Mr. Parker. He needs to know what you did to his parrot.”
When Jeep arrived, Miss Kublic smiled a friendly smile at him. “Mr. Slade can see you now, Mr. Parker.”
As Jeep stepped into the inner office, Rubens called out, “Hey, Jeep, what’s new?”
The parrot hadn’t grown any new feathers yet, but it stood tall and alert. The cheerful strains of a Mozart symphony filled the room. Although the bird looked much better, the man looked far worse. Mr. Slade’s clothes were rumpled and his weary face betrayed his lack of sleep.
Mr. Slade was impatient to take charge. “What have you done to Rubens? He’s driving me nuts.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m trying to tend to business here. It requires all my brain power, but he’s messing with my mind. How can I get any work done with his non-stop interruptions?”
“What’s he doing?”
“He hasn’t stopped yakking since you left. I suppose it’s good that he’s bouncing back. But the darned bird refuses to give me a moment’s peace or quiet.”
Jeep shifted into his doctor mode, “What has he been saying? And more importantly, why does it bother you so much?” He turned and winked at Rubens.
“He keeps repeating that I should just give the land to the zoo. You put him up to it, didn’t you?”
“Of course not! How could I? He must have overheard what I said to you. I’m as surprised by all this as you are,” though Jeep was secretly pleased.
“Like I’d believe you,” the man said with sarcasm.
“Still, Mr. Slade, there must be more to it than that. If you don’t like what Rubens says why not just ignore him?”
“Ignore him! Ignore him! You think I wouldn’t ignore him if I could?” Mr. Slade certainly didn’t seem confident like he was at their first meeting. In the battle of nerves, he had come in second to a bird.
“If you must know, Rubens was my father’s bird. My father raised him and trained him. Rubens sounds just like my father. You expect me to ignore my own father?”
Mr. Slade collapsed back into his chair. His worked-up emotions had drained the last of his energy.
“I see.” Jeep nodded and tapped his chin as though in deep thought.
“Rubens hasn’t been talking much for a long time, but now he won’t stop. It almost seems like Dad is speaking to me from the grave.” A haunted expression clouded his eyes, and it seemed like his logic had slipped a bit, too.
Jeep took his time, nodding wisely, “So you really think your own father is talking to you... through Rubens?”
“It seems that way, doesn’t it?”
Jeep made a shrewd guess. “Tell me, do you think your father would want you to give that land to the zoo if he were here?” From the man’s reaction Jeep could tell he’d hit a nerve.
“Wasn’t that your father’s land in the first place? You inherited it from him, right?”
“Sure, that land was part of what he left me. If he were alive he’d probably let you have it.”
Rubens squawked, “Give the land to the zoo,” like he’d been saying all along.
The man jumped in alarm. “Make him stop! Please, oh please! Make him stop.”
Jeep’s eyes held Mr. Slade’s gaze for a long minute. “You know there is a way to get Rubens to stop saying that, don’t you?”
“There is? Can you make him stop?”
“No, Mr. Slade, I can’t. Only you can make him stop.”
“But I don’t know how! You’ve got to make him stop,” the man wailed.
Jeep spoke with the kind of soothing voice one uses with an upset child. “Of course you do, Mr. Slade. Just – do – what – he – says,” as though it were the only intelligent solution.
“Yes, I suppose you’re right. That’s reasonable. Why didn’t I think of that?”
“Give the land to the zoo,” Rubens squawked once more.
“OK, OK! The land goes to the zoo..., if I never have to hear that again! Now make him stop.”
Some decisive action is required, but I’m not sure Mr. Slade is up to it at the moment. Jeep pointed at the phone, “Why not call your lawyer and tell him to draw up the papers?”
Mr. Slade’s instructions to his lawyer were firm as they nailed down detail after detail. He ended the phone call with, “Get those papers over here for my signature right away.”
Jeep whispered his thanks to Rubens while Mr. Slade was talking on the phone.
The bird answered, “Any time¼. Just listen to that Mozart, will you—heavenly.”
After he hung up, Mr. Slade sat aback and stared at Jeep a long time. “Young man, maybe you and old Rubens outfoxed me. But I’m starting to feel better about this. What’s all my money for if I can’t be foolish with it now and then? Let’s just call this ‘Be Kind to Animals Day, alright?”
Jeep opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. So he just grinned. He couldn’t wait to tell Grikkl.
And in due time Mr. Slade was as good as his word. He didn’t stop with donating the ravine to the zoo. He brought together engineers and zoo experts to design a first-rate wildlife habitat for the animals that could live together without cages in a natural setting. His team even figured out an observation area built into the rocky side of the ravine, where visitors could watch the animals close up without disturbing them at all. Everyone agreed the whole thing was marvelous. Even better, Mr. Slade figured out how to pay for the whole thing.
When the plans were complete, Mr. Slade held a press conference to announce what was in store for the zoo. His impressive design made the local newspapers, radio and TV. Politicians tried to take credit for it, but Mr. Slade praised Jeep as the person who masterminded the whole thing.
Jeep’s picture appeared on the front page of the newspaper above the words, “Local Boy Expands Truman Zoo.”
As part of the dedication ceremony zoo officials announced Jeep’s appointment to the Zoo Board as the official Animal Spokesman. Little did they realize his special qualification for the job.
Chapter 14—
THE TRUFFLE DISASTER
Jeep worked until twilight in the park nearly every day collecting truffle data. Because of the need for secrecy, he couldn’t do his work when other people were near enough to watch him. He happened to be there one day when a woman walking her dog sat on a bench nearby. She unhooked the dog’s leash to let him run free. Then she tossed a ball, which was fetched and returned to her.
One of her throws was wide, and the dog lost sight of it. He chased around, then started to dig at the base of a tree. What the dog found wasn’t the ball, but he fetched it anyway. What happened next froze Jeep’s blood. The woman did the worst thing he could have imagined!
“Wow! Truffles! Right here in our park!” she yelled with excitement. The woman ran to the hole where her dog had found it and dug around until she found more. To anyone who came along, she called out, “Hey, look what I found! Truffles!”
She might just as well have yelled, “Gold!” The secret was out—and what came next resembled a gold rush. Jeep called Chris with the horrible news. He left work so they could watch what happened next. Jeep and Chris could only si
t by helplessly.
Rumors spread fast. Within hours the park was crawling with truffle hunters, eager for their share of the find. The discovery made the news. That attracted even more truffle hunters. Over the next several days, their years of work got destroyed or enjoyed by strangers.
Jeep couldn’t be sure which of their patches might have survived undisturbed. But if he checked any time soon, he’d call attention to where they were. Chris and Jeep knew that despite their careful secrecy their scheme had failed. Their ship came in—but not for them.
They would have to start over again—probably somewhere else. That is, if they had the heart to face so much hard work again.
The truffle disaster brought another form of gloom down on them full force. Their cherished dreams of financial relief were dead. Worse yet, Chris lost his nerve. Until that happened, neither of them had realized how totally Chris counted on truffles to save Helen and his finances.
During the days that followed, Chris looked empty and emotionally haunted. He called in sick as often as he bothered to show up for work. For, indeed, he was sick—sick in heart. And if he couldn’t get past his depression, physical ailments would surely follow.
Jeep looked after him like a parent cares for a sick child. One good thing, I don’t have to do any more truffle chores. Now my afternoons are free to go to Elkhorn.
~~~
Jeep’s mind sometimes wandered to fret about the bullies when it should have been on his schoolwork. He felt he needed to do something—not to be such a wimp. Yet Grikkl’s warning about inviting in evil left him few choices. How can I deal with bad guys without playing by their rules?
Jeep even used Adah’s mirror to see if Merve set it off. Whatever the mirror detected, apparently Merve didn’t have it.
Maybe he isn’t so bad. If only I could get him to talk to me without being so nasty. We just make each other sore.
After weeks of pondering on the puzzle, Jeep thought of something. Mom used to say, “I can’t be upset while I’m eating.” How about Merve and me eating together? Maybe then he won’t be so mean.
The Binkle and the Catawampus Compass (Binkles and Magic) Page 12
