Max

  Chapter Six

  Ham Gleason sat with his feet on the desk top in his cubicle at the Cincinnati Herald office.

  Harry Thompson, the editor, passed by and shoved Ham’s feet off the desk. “Back to work,” he growled.

  “I’m working,” protested Ham.

  “I call that loafing.”

  “I’m thinking,” said Ham.

  “Well, think on your own time. This is a work area.” He stopped for a moment. Ham was a hard worker. Whatever he was thinking about must be important. “Want to tell me what you’re thinking about?”

  Ham hunched forward, his elbows on the desk. “You know this kid, Max Aries, the Rams have signed?”

  “You mean ‘Stink Up The Air-ies’?”

  Max had gotten the nickname since practically everything he had done on the Rams football field had been a blunder.

  Ham nodded. “Yeah. That’s the one.”

  “Well what about him? Every time he gets near the ball, he causes a disaster. Everybody in town is on J.J. Heywood’s case for letting that guy on the field.”

  Ham put his hands up. “I know, I know. But in spite of it all, some of the things he does seem absolutely brilliant, out of this world.”

  “Like what?” said Thompson.

  “Okay. For one, remember that exhibition game against the Browns?”

  “How can I forget. He caused a safety and we lost the game.”

  “Right. But there was no way he could catch that snap from center it was so high over his head. And I’ve never seen anyone take off on a touchdown run like he did.”

  Thompson snorted. “What ‘touchdown’? The ball was dead when he stepped out of the end zone.”

  Ham could see there was no point to carrying the argument further. “Well, you’re probably right. But I’d like to find out a little more about him.”

  Thompson shook his head. “Don’t waste your time—or the newspaper’s money. I’m sure there are some other stories you could be writing.”

  Ham went back to his computer keyboard and typed a few lines but his mind was not on the column he was writing. He couldn’t erase from his thoughts that there was something unusual about this Aries fellow. The guy was supposed to have been from OSU, but admitted he’d never played college football. Yet here he was at the pro level because Coach Jones had been impressed with his tryout performance. It wasn’t even a tryout. The guy had just appeared on the practice field, did some weird things like leap in the air to catch an impossible pass and loft a punt like it had been shot from a cannon.

  Ham glanced around to make sure the editor wasn’t nearby, then reached for the phone and punched in some numbers.

  A voice on the other end said, “Ohio State Registrar’s Office, this is Sally Carson.”

  “Sally, this is Ham Gleason.”

  “Ham! How are you? It’s been ages. Are you here in Columbus?”

  Ham could picture the cute redhead with the dimpled smile. The two had dated a few years ago when Ham was a sports reporter for the Columbus Star-Times. After Ham left to become a columnist for the Cincinnati paper, Sally had gotten engaged, but he heard she had broken up with her fiancé. Now, whenever his work brought him to Columbus, Ham would call her. “No, I’m in Cincinnati. I need some information about one of your former students.”

  Sally said, “I’m disappointed. I thought you were calling for a date. But okay, I’ll get you the information. What’s the person’s name?”

  Out of the corner of Ham’s vision, he saw the editor walking toward his desk. Thompson had warned him not to pursue his investigation of Aries, and Ham was about to hang up when Thompson stopped to speak to one of the other reporters. Ham cupped the mouthpiece with his hand and spoke hoarsely. “Max Aries, A-R-I-E-S.”

  Sally was quiet for a few moments, then, “Do you have a cold?”

  Ham coughed. “Yeah, a little one. But let me call you back in about an hour. And thanks, Sally. I’ll owe you big.”

  “You owe me a dinner and don’t forget it.”

  “I won’t, you can bet on it.”

  Ham went back to his computer and started typing furiously. He felt Thompson patting his shoulder, heard him say, “That’s what I like to see. Keep it up.”

  An hour later, he called Sally back. She said, “Ham, are you sure about the name of the person you gave me?”

  “Yes, why.”

  “I’ve gone through our files, even back as far as twenty years ago, and there was never anyone here by the name of Max Aries.”