“Yeah, I’m Buckley!” he said. “Who do you think I am?”
He removed the fedora from his head and shook the water from it. He looked at our sign and pointed his finger at it.
“What’s that?” he asked.
“That’s the sign of our new detective agency,” I said.
“Yeah, I can see that!” he said. “What do you know about opening a detective agency? Didn’t I tell you to go back to Heartville, or wherever it is you’re from? You’re setting yourself up for a fall, kid! Get rid of that sign and forget all about this detective agency business, you understand?”
“No,” I said. “Why are you ordering me to leave?”
“Because you’re gonna get yourself hurt!” he said. “You’re a nice kid and I like you a lot. But you have no idea how dangerous this kind of work is! That’s why I’m telling you to go home and stop trying to be a detective, you understand?”
“You’re worried I’ll get hurt?” I asked.
“Yeah!” he said. “Because you’re in way over your head! What do you know about running a detective agency?”
“I know what I’ve read in Dick Tracy comic books,” I said.
“Comics?” he asked. “Are you still talking about your comic books? Listen kid, this is no comic book! This is real-life criminals and real guns and a good chance of getting yourself killed! You can’t run an agency! I mean, what do you even know about managing a business, huh? You’re just a kid!”
“I’m not a kid!” I said.
“And he does not need to know everything about managing a business,” said Sal. “Because I already know everything about it. I ran and operated my own business for many decades.”
Buckley became silent. He stared at Nora and Sal as if he hadn’t noticed them until now.
“Who are these guys?” he asked.
“I’m not a guy,” said Nora. “I’m a woman.”
“Fine!” said Buckley. “Trueman, who are these people?”
“I am the man who manages his agency!” said Sal. “Like I said, I know all about running a business. So, Trueman doesn’t need to know anything about it. You asked Trueman how he can manage and operate a business? Well, I’m telling you how!”
“Yes,” I said. “Sal operates the agency for me.”
Buckley shook his head and sighed. He put his wet hat on his head. He walked closer to me and grabbed my shoulder.
“Listen, Trueman,” he said. “Okay. So, maybe you can get someone to manage your agency for you. But what are you gonna do when you have to chase down criminals, huh? You couldn’t even cross Broadway! Remember? That criminal had to help you cross the sidewalk! Now, I ask you, buddy, how you gonna do detective work? You can’t even cross a street alone!”
“He’s got me to help him!” said Nora.
Nora moved to stand between Buckley and me. I interpreted the anger on her face and I realized she was defending me again.
“Trueman has some difficulties doing things that are easy for you and me,” she said, “but he’s a genius in other ways, which you don’t understand. You’re trying to say he couldn’t possibly be successful as a detective, but he’s thought of ways to solve crimes that you’re not smart enough to think of.”
Buckley stared at Nora. It seemed to me he was not certain how to respond to Nora’s opposition.
“Who is this lady?” he asked.
“She’s my friend,” I said.
Nora removed her sunglasses and wide-brimmed hat.
“We’ve met before, Detective,” she said.
“Oh yeah,” he said. “Now I recognize you, Detective Lucca. Don’t tell me you’re in on this too? What are you doing here?”
“I’m one of the detectives in his agency now,” she said.
“Are you kidding?” he asked. “Didn’t I tell you, Ms. Lucca, not to encourage this guy? I mean, I know he really wants to be a detective. But, I mean, come on, the guy’s got some kind of mental disorder, right? You’re just gonna get him killed or something by encouraging him and making him believe he can be a detective! This guy’s not right in the head!”
Sal started making noises that reminded me of a growling dog. He moved and stood between Buckley and me. I could recognize the anger on his face. I realized that both Nora and Sal were defending me now. They stared angrily at Buckley.
“You listen to me, Detective!” said Sal. “Mr. Bradley’s Asperger’s Syndrome doesn’t mean he’s a stupid guy! You understand? It does not mean he is ‘not right in the head’! It does not mean he has a mental disorder! He can think of brilliant ideas and equations, better than you could ever think of! So, I tell you, when compared to Mr. Bradley, you are stupid! So, maybe you are the one with a mental disorder!”
Buckley stepped backwards, away from the two angry faces. He was silent for a while and seemed like he would walk away, without a word. But, instead, he put one of his arms around my shoulders and whispered to me in a kindly way.
“Okay, Trueman,” he said. “Sorry, maybe I don’t understand enough about this Asperger’s thing. Maybe I should read a book about it or something. If I said something offensive, well I’m sorry, alright? But I’m saying this for your own good. There’s a real good chance you’ll get hurt or something. You understand? Like I said, I like you, and I don’t want you getting hurt, understand? That’s why I’m telling you to forget about this detective work. I’ll tell you one more time, alright? Just go back home. Forget about all this. You’re gonna get yourself hurt. Okay, maybe I made a mistake, kid. Maybe you’re smarter than I gave you credit for. But you can’t deal with a big city like this, right? What are you gonna do next time you get nervous on a busy city street? Is another criminal gonna victimize you like last time? Next time, I might not be around to rescue you. You just can’t succeed as a detective.”
Buckley’s words made me feel terrible, because I still was not entirely sure if I could succeed. His discouraging words caused my doubts to intensify and I felt my confidence lowering. But I remembered Nora’s willingness to help me, by reading me Dick Tracy; I remembered how impressed Sal was, when he heard about my equations and my solutions; I remembered the times when I felt like I was really Dick Tracy. I looked up at the yellow neon sign, which looked so much like a sign from a comic book.
“That was a long time ago,” I said.
“What?” asked Buckley.
“When we first met,” I said. “That day when Seth tried to rob me. That was a long time ago, Detective.”
“It wasn’t!” he said. “It was nine days ago, Trueman!”
“Yes, I know,” I said. “It was 216 hours ago. I meant, it was a long time ago because many things have happened since then. Maybe it only feels like a very long time ago, to me, because my life is much different now. Everything is different now. Now, I am stronger and more confident in myself.”
“Now he has friends to help him,” said Nora.
Nora and Sal stood in front of Buckley, staring at him. Buckley didn’t say anything. I couldn’t interpret his emotions, but I imagined he was too confused to say anything. He grabbed the sides of his coat and pulled it tightly against his body.
Mrs. Levi’s antique car, a 1966 Volvo Saloon, arrived on Reade Street and parked beside us. Mrs. Levi, dressed in a blue dress and a flowery hat, waved at us. Buckley looked at the Volvo and frowned. Then, without saying a word, he walked away.
“Trueman!” said Mrs. Levi.
“Hello, Mrs. Levi!” I said. “Did you get the permits?”
Mrs. Levi moved quickly, and it seemed to me she was excited about something. She had a newspaper in her hands.
“Yes, dear,” she said. “We get our permits later this month. But when I was waiting in the office, I happened to pick up this newspaper. And look what I found! There’s a story here about that detective, Malcolm Vrie!”
Nora grabbed the newspaper from Mrs. Levi’s hands.
“Listen to this…” said Nora. “Murder in East Village solved by private detective!?
?? she read aloud. “A case of murder was solved by a Manhattan private detective named Malcolm Vrie. Mr. Eddie Sipple, a forty-six-year-old carpenter, was arrested for the murder of Eric Lendalainen, in front of an East 13th Street apartment building, a week ago. Vrie was able to identify Sipple as the murderer when he discovered traces of the victim’s blood on a baseball cap belonging to Sipple.”
“That scumbag!” said Nora. “I knew he’d steal our evidence and take the credit! Now everyone thinks he solved it!”
Sal, Nora and Mrs. Levi stood close to each other, under one umbrella, reading the story. But I was too focused on my thoughts to give any more attention to the newspaper. I was thinking why Malcolm would arrest Eddie, the carpenter, if they were both involved in criminal acts together. This seemed to indicate they were not actually involved in crime together.
“That’s not possible…” I said. “There are too many clues to connect them as criminal partners. Why would Malcolm arrest Eddie if they’re partners in crime?”
“What did you say, Trueman?” asked Nora.
I had been talking to myself, not Nora. And I was too concentrated on my own thoughts to answer her question. I began to think of my crime-fighting equation. I had some new information now. Malcolm had arrested his criminal partner, Eddie. I wanted to insert this new information into my crime-fighting equation and see what the results would be. I closed my eyes and tried to concentrate on the equation.
“Well, let’s get to the car, friends!” said Sal.
Nora pulled my arm and we walked along the sidewalk, towards the Lincoln car. The rain started coming down heavily and we rushed to get into the car. Sal opened the driver’s side door and sat in the driver’s seat. He operated the controls and the leather hood of the car began to lower. Nora, Mrs. Levi and I stood outside the car, watching the rain fall into the car, soaking the luxurious leather seats.
“Mannaggia!” said Sal. “I pressed the wrong button! Now I lowered the hood and it won’t come back up!”
Sal jumped out of the car and tried to raise the hood with his hands. Mrs. Levi and Nora helped him. After a minute or so, their efforts were successful and the hood came up.
“I told you!” said Sal. “This old car has some problems. Sometimes it does not function correctly. Now, let’s get in!”
We opened the car doors and sat in the wet seats. I could feel the water soaking into my clothes and every time I moved, the wet leather made a squeaking sound, rubbing against my trench coat. After a few minutes, we were driving away.
“Are you okay, Trueman?” asked Nora.
Nora and I sat on the back seat together.
“Yes. Why?” I asked.
“Well, ever since Mrs. Levi showed us that newspaper,” she said, “you haven’t responded to anything I said to you. You just stared at nothing and made a sound like ‘ung, ung…’”
“Oh,” I said. “I didn’t notice you were talking to me, because I was concentrating on my crime-fighting equation. Malcolm arrested his own criminal partner and I was trying to equate what it means. I was trying to determine the result.”
“So, what was the result?” she asked. “What does it mean?”
I was not sure of the result. In my equation, Malcolm and Eddie were represented by algebraic variables. For some reason, when I executed the equation including this new information, Malcolm and Eddie both equaled zero. Any time I had used this equation, no variable had ever equaled zero. I didn’t know what that meant. I had not designed the equation in a way that allowed for answers to equal zero. This was an anomaly and I started to wonder if my crime-fighting equation was imperfect.
“Is something wrong?” asked Nora.
Nora must have been capable of reading my emotions, because she was looking at me and I could recognize worry on her face. She knew that I was doubtful of myself. I didn’t want her to know about my doubts. Sal and Nora were so impressed by my equations and I didn’t want to lose their good opinion of me by admitting that my equations might be flawed.
“Nothing’s wrong,” I said. “Don’t worry. I was just thinking about it. We can still go searching for evidence later this month. Like you said, we’ll expose Malcolm’s crimes.”
“It’s so exciting!” she said. “Our agency’s first case!”
Nora put her arm around me and hugged me. She had said she wasn’t in love with me, but the warmth of her arms still made me smile and my face turn red from pleasure. I didn’t want to risk changing Nora’s loving attitude towards me. Although I was full of doubt, I tried not to let it show.
“I’m excited too,” I said.
I smiled and tried to act confident, like Dick Tracy would. But my mind was distracted by the strange result of my equation.
“What does zero mean?” I asked.
“What?” asked Nora.
“Oh, nothing,” I said. “I was just talking to myself.”
9
Hickson Warehouse
The Hudson River is close to my office on Reade Street. At night, the city lights reflect off the river and these reflections look like a sea of shining stars. These imaginary stars fascinated me. But I resisted the desire to stop and memorize them. I forced myself to continue walking along the boardwalk. I couldn’t be late, because I was on a mission. I was working on my agency’s first case. I was on my first mission alone, without help. I was alone on the boardwalk, hunting for evidence to expose the crimes of Malcolm Vrie.
I had been walking along the boardwalk for thirty minutes, but I hadn’t met anyone. This is because I had improved my jerk magic detector equation, and I had successfully predicted when pedestrians would be coming. This way, I had been able to avoid meeting anyone. I was glad, because I had made a detailed checklist of how I would complete this mission. The first item on the list read “go to Hickson warehouse without meeting anyone.” So far, everything was going according to my plan.
Sometimes I would pass a window or a mirror and I would look at myself. I was wearing a long, yellow trench coat and a yellow hat—just like Dick Tracy. My special sunglasses made me look mysterious, as a detective should look. I liked to look at myself, because I looked exactly how I had planned to look. I was comforted to know my plan was going as I had expected.
The river, at night, was the perfect setting for detective work. It looked like a scene from a comic book. I was excited to be able to prove to everyone that I could solve a case and go on a mission without anyone’s help. I’d prove to them my Asperger’s doesn’t stop me from becoming a great detective.
“Trueman!” said Nora.
The sudden, unexpected voice made me jump and trip over my feet. I fell to the ground and hid my face behind my hands.
“Trueman!” said Nora. “Are you there?”
I had left my wrist TV on. One month had passed since we’d visited Sal’s friend, the inventor, and she had made four two-way wrist TVs for us. I had forgotten I was wearing it.
“Yes, Nora?” I asked. “Is that you, Nora?”
I looked at my wrist TV and saw Nora’s face on the small screen. She looked like she was walking down a busy street.
“Yes, it’s me,” said Nora. “What’s wrong? You look scared. Are you lying on the ground?”
“Um, yes,” I said. “You scared me with your voice.”
“Oh,” she said. “Did you forget you were wearing the wrist TV? Maybe we should have designed them to beep or something, before we can talk to each other. That way you won’t get surprised or scared by the unexpected voice.”
“But then the beep would surprise me,” I said.
“Okay,” she said. “Never mind. I’m just calling to tell you that Sal and I have arrived at the apartment block in the neighborhood of Queens. We’re going to search for evidence.”
“Good,” I said. “Malcolm and Eddie are either counterfeiting money or illegally cutting diamonds. If they counterfeited, their crime happened in Hickson warehouse, beside the Hudson River. If they are diamond-cutters, their crime happen
ed on the fifth floor of an apartment building in Queens. The plan is for you to search the apartment building and I will search the warehouse. One of us will find evidence and then we will know if Malcolm and Eddie are counterfeiters or diamond-cutters. The first step of my plan is to go to…”
“Trueman,” said Nora, “you’re repeating yourself. You already told me about your plan many times in the last month.”
“Oh, okay…” I said.
Sometimes I repeat myself, and don’t realize I am boring other people. My plan interested me so much that I couldn’t imagine why someone else wouldn’t want to hear about the details of it. I am not bored by repetition if the topic being repeated is interesting to me. I had repeated my plan in my mind hundreds of times. The neat, logical perfection of my plan’s details fascinated me and I never became bored of it.
“What do you want to talk to me about?” I asked.
“I want to ask if we can change the plan,” she said.
“No!” I said. “We can’t! I finalized this plan a week ago and it is very specially designed! It is perfect and we must do it exactly as planned. No changes or surprises are allowed!”
“I know you don’t like surprises, Trueman,” she said. “I have the plan you printed out and gave me. Me and Sal have done it all, just like you said. But the only thing…”
“But you didn’t!” I said. “There was no item on your checklist saying ‘call Trueman.’ That is why your voice surprised me. Now you forced me to change the plan. Please write ‘call Trueman at 9:38 pm’ into your plan. I’ll write ‘receive call from Nora at 9:38 pm’ into my plan. Please don’t force me to change the plan again, or I’ll get very nervous!”
“Why should I write it into the plan if I already did it?” she asked.
“Because,” I said, “it will make me less nervous if our conversation is part of the plan.”
“But we already…” she said. “Okay, never mind. We’ll write it into our checklist if it’s important to you. But the reason I called you, Trueman, is because I’m worried about you.”
“Worried?” I asked. “Why?”