The Fight for Kidsboro (26 page)

When we got there, we were shocked to discover that Nelson Motors was up and running again. Nelson was inside with his designer, looking at a picture of what would be their next model. Jill and I exchanged confused looks. “What's going on?” I asked.

Nelson glanced up at us, then motioned for us to follow him outside. We did. “Someone donated some money to us,” Nelson said. “We're back. We've got eight more cars to build, and I think I can pay off the investors and my employees with the profits.”

“Who donated the money?”

Nelson looked at the ground and spread some dirt around with his foot. He said quietly, “Max.”

I gave him a stern look. “I know, I know,” he said. “It's probably a mistake. But what else was I going to do? I've got people all over the place who want their money back. I have a responsibility to them. Sure, I'll probably have to be Max's slave for a while … but at least I'll be able to pay off my debts.”

I didn't like the sound of that arrangement. We asked about the car. Nelson had already begun repairing it, so it was useless to look at it.

On our way back to the newspaper office, we noticed someone on the miniature golf course. Mark was watching four people play a round together. There was a big sign on the office door that read, “GRAND REOPENING.”

“You're open again?”

“Sure. You wanna play?”

“No thanks. We're on our way somewhere. I thought you had a lot of debts to pay.”

“Max took care of it for me.”

“Max?”

“Yeah, you know, I owed him most of the money anyway—for the wood to build this thing. But he told me to forget it. And get this: He even gave me some money to hire an employee since I have to go to swimming lessons in the mornings now.”

Jill and I exchanged looks. This was not looking good.

“I gotta tell you. After the trial, I kind of thought that Max was a jerk, you know? But he saved me, man. He saved the whole town.”

Max was now the town hero.

Within a week, all the businesses were back up and running. The bank was back too, since Max had paid off some of the loans that other people couldn't pay. Many people were able to get their savings back. Everywhere I went, people were singing Max's praises.

Max even gave Pete enough money to start filming again. With his investors breathing down his neck, and his sister Robin beginning to make demands of her own, Pete agreed to let the actors have everything they wanted. With everyone happy, Pete put Valerie and Kirk back in front of the camera.

That night, Pete opened up the movie theater with a special discount showing of
Rocky
. Twenty-four of Kidsboro's 31 citizens filed in. Pete introduced the movie as a celebration of the rebirth of Kidsboro. Several people clapped, but the applause was slow and halfhearted.

During the movie, the laughter seemed a little forced; the sarcastic comments from the crowd were not quite as sharp as usual. The inspirational scenes in the movie didn't make anyone sit up straight or bounce their knees.

It was almost as if everyone was scared to celebrate.

My fears began to be realized the next morning.

“What's with this muffin, Sid?” I asked. I almost always had a muffin at Sid's Bakery in the morning. This one was not up to his usual standards.

Sid rolled his eyes and lowered his voice. “I had to put extra cinnamon in it.”

“What do you mean, you
had
to?”

“He likes cinnamon.”

“Who?”

“Max, of course. He gave me a loan to start the business up again, so I kind of have to do what he wants. He told me to put more cinnamon in everything. So I did.”

“You put more cinnamon in
everything
?” I asked.

“Yep.”

“But he's not going to eat everything.”

“Doesn't matter. He told me he was making a business decision. And as he said, people like cinnamon.”

“But this doesn't taste as good as it usually does.”

“No kidding,” Sid said.

“Did you tell him that?”

“He's not an easy person to disagree with. I'm sure you've noticed that.”

“Yes, I have.”

Next, I stopped by the newspaper office to see if Jill had come up with anything else.

“I saw something today that made me a little curious,” she said.

“What?”

“It may be nothing, but I saw Max and Barry together.”

“What were they doing?”

“Just talking. They were on the other side of the creek, like it was some secret meeting.”

“So?”

“I don't think they're friends. And they have nothing in common.”

“Right.”

“Except for the fact that Max was the lawyer for the trial, and Barry was on the jury.”

“You think Max bought him off?”

“I can't prove it …”

“Jury tampering would be tough to prove. But I agree. That's really strange.”

Jill sat down and bent her head over the mess of papers and photos she had scoured a thousand times before. “There's something we're missing,” she said. “I know there's something obvious here, something that'll prove our case without a doubt—but I just can't put my finger on it.”

“I know how you feel. I can sense it too.”

We brainstormed awhile longer, and then I went home to rest my weary brain.

I dodged one of Nelson's cars as I was coming back into town. As it passed me, it got stuck on a tree root. Its wheels turned furiously but without success. I was about to reach down and give it some assistance when I heard, “Don't touch it, Ryan.” It was Nelson. He and an employee were standing 20 feet behind me. Nelson's arms hung limply at his sides as if he had lost all hope in whatever he was doing.

“It just doesn't work!” Nelson shouted. I had never seen one of Nelson's cars get stuck. I walked over and joined them.

“What's wrong?” I asked.

“The new cars don't work,” Nelson said. “We usually put four-wheel drive into all our vehicles. It's a luxury, and if you're going to use it on the street, you don't need it. But when you're in the woods, you've got to get over tree roots, leaves, rocks, branches, grooves in the soil. These things just don't work out here without four-wheel drive.”

“I don't understand.”

“Max came in yesterday and started watching our operation. He noticed us putting in extra components and asked why. We told him about the four-wheel drive, and he said that the cars don't need it. He said he wants our company to start being more cost-effective, and since we're using his money, he gets to call the shots.”

“Oh, boy,” I said.

“I argued with him for about an hour, but he wouldn't have it any other way.”

“Maybe you could show him that it doesn't work.”

“He doesn't care. It makes no difference to him if we sell an inferior product. He just wants us to sell as many as we can as soon as possible. This company's always been known for quality. If we start selling people
this
stuff, what happens next year when I want to start making something else?”

“Maybe you could put in the four-wheel drive and he won't notice.”

Nelson shook his head. “He's got a new rule. All cars have to get his approval before they go out to be sold.”

“This is bad.”

“What exactly am I supposed to do?”

We were to see much more of this as the days went on. Throughout the city, businesses that sold things now had “price scales,” where friends of Max paid less for everything, while everyone else paid top dollar for the same things. For instance, Max's friends got to play a round of golf for five tokens, while
I
had to pay 10 tokens. I knew I needed to call a city council meeting to discuss a new law regarding this practice. This was discrimination or something. Even worse, the course was now called “Putt to the Max,” in honor of its new financial backer. There was a huge sign right in front of the course.

But it was at an evening film shoot that things really came to a head. I was sitting on a lawn chair just close enough to the set to observe without being in the way. Pete was getting a scene ready when Max showed up with a script in his hand. “Okay, I've made some changes.”

“What?” Pete said.

“I've just made a few small revisions on this scene. I think it works a whole lot better.” Pete took the script from Max, gave him a nervous smile, then scanned the pages. His mouth immediately turned down, then his eyes widened in horror. He seemed to calm himself, and then looked back up at Max, faking a smile.

“You know, Max … I don't think we can do this.”

“Why not?”

“This is … um … kind of disgusting, and there's some bad language in here.”

“Yeah, I know. I thought the character of Ginger needed some more … umph. She was too flat.”

Hearing her screen name, Valerie immediately wanted the scoop. “Wait a minute. What did you do to Ginger?” Valerie grabbed the script from Pete and started scanning it.

“Max,” Pete said, “this is supposed to be a family film. I don't use that kind of language in my films.”