Trueman Bradley - Aspie Detective (27 page)

I had told my friends to trust in my equations and my inventions, but now I was starting to seriously doubt myself. I felt like the SR was telling me to kill myself. As if I was such a failure, my own invention wanted to me end my failed life. I was so confused and horrified, I surrendered to my temptation. I ignored the SR and thought about prime numbers.

“2, 3, 5, 7…”

The beeping of the SR interrupted my counting. I knew it was giving me an urgent warning that I was jeopardizing my mission by not obeying its commands, but I didn’t want to hear it. I was sure it didn’t work, because I couldn’t possibly jump out of a window and live. I switched the SR off and continued counting prime numbers.

“11, 13, 17, 19…”

My wrist TV made a crackling noise and I heard Nora’s voice.

“Trueman,” said Nora. “I believe in you. I believe in your equations and your inventions! I admire you and your mind! So, please believe in yourself too! I know you can do it!”

At first, I was confused by this. How did Nora know to call me and give me encouragement, right when I needed it?

“How was that?” asked Nora.

Confused, I looked at my wrist TV.

“Was that a good message?” asked Nora.

I could see that Nora was on the wrist TV screen. I was also on the screen, standing beside her. Nora gave me an embrace and I smiled.

I suddenly remembered this was a recording I had made with Nora a few days ago. I had considered the possibility that I might not be able to trust in the instructions of the SR if they sounded too dangerous.

I knew, if this happened, that I might get upset and “become autistic.” I would probably try to comfort myself with prime numbers. I would probably also switch off my SR, so I would not be disturbed. So, I arranged for this pre-recorded video to play on my wrist TV if I shut off my SR during a mission. I knew a message from Nora, saying how much she admired me and believed in me, would restore my confidence. And it did. I felt confident again and I switched on my SR.

It read, “Urgent: 10 seconds remain to jump out window!”

I forced myself to believe in my equations and inventions, the way Nora did and I gathered all my courage. I ran for the window and jumped out of it. I had expected to see the clear, blue sky and a scene of the street, from high above. But, instead, I hit a metal fence and bounced onto my back.

I sat up and realized I was on a platform, with cables leading up to the roof of the building. Beside me stood a tall, thin man with a cigarette in his mouth. He had a bucket of water beside him and carried a large squeegee. When he saw me fall on his platform, his mouth opened so wide, his cigarette fell out of his mouth and down towards the street below.

“You’re the window washer!” I said. “This is a window washer’s platform! Now I see why I could jump out the window!”

“What?” asked the window washer. “What the hell are you doing jumping out of windows? You’re not allowed on here!”

I noticed we were going up, towards the roof. I started to realize what the SR had planned for me to do.

“Of course!” I said. “The window washer’s platform will lift me to the roof and I can get to the penthouse!”

“Listen!” said the window washer. “I don’t care what you do, but get off my stage! You want to get me in trouble? Go on! Get out of here, buddy!”

We arrived at the roof and the window washer pushed me out. He pushed a button on his platform and started lowering down the side of the building. As he lowered, he stared at me and shook his head.

“Nut!” he shouted.

I didn’t understand why he was offering me a nut. This didn’t seem like the type of situation to eat nuts.

“Maybe he was asking me for a nut?” I asked myself.

Before I could figure it out, my SR started beeping.

“Call Buckley,” I read.

“Okay!” I said.

I activated my wrist TV and pressed the button to call Buckley. I was so happy and excited by my success that I was jumping. Buckley’s face appeared on my wrist TV.

“Trueman?” asked Buckley. “Thank God! There’s a lot of noise down here. Something’s got the gangsters excited! Seems like someone gave a signal that cops are here! They’re all leaving the building. What happened to you? Are you okay?”

“I sure am!” I said. “My SR led me safely to the roof and I can see the penthouse!”

“Okay,” he said. “Well, what do we do now?”

“My SR says that you should leave the building,” I said. “Go outside to a door labeled ‘elevator.’ Wait for the door to open and take it to the roof. Do you understand?”

“Yeah,” he said, “I got it.”

“Okay, I need to go! Bye!” I said.

My SR was beeping again. The compass had appeared on the SR screen and it was pointing at the penthouse. Excited and happy that my mission was almost completed, I ran across the gravelly roof, which smelled of tar. A metal back door was wide open and I entered the spacious, luxurious penthouse.

Inside, everything was decorated in expensive teak wood and adorned with marble and precious works of art. The carpet was so luxurious, I felt like I was walking on moss. The paintings were intriguing to me. I had read and memorized books about famous artists. And some of the paintings looked familiar to me. I was so absorbed in my surroundings that I hardly noticed my SR was beeping, sending me another urgent message.

“Send elevator to ground floor,” I read.

The compass appeared and pointed to my left. Looking left, however, I could see no elevator. Only a wall adorned with art.

“Wait a minute,” I said to myself. “Is that Jacques-Louis David’s painting? ‘Coronation of Napoleon’? But that’s wrong!”

I examined the painting more closely and realized there was a red circle depicted there. With my keen visual memory, I could recall every detail of that painting as if it were right in front of me. On the central pillar of Napoleon’s coronation hall, there was a big red circle.

“That wasn’t in the original!” I said. “Besides, that painting’s in the Louvre art gallery in Paris. This is a copy.”

I touched the circle and it moved. I realized it was an elevator button, cleverly disguised as part of a painting.

“Wow, that’s clever,” I said.

I pressed the button and heard a mechanical whirring sound, like the sound of an elevator motor. Now that I knew an elevator was here, I could guess what part of the wall would open up and lead to it. It looked like a large panel of ornate teak panelling. It was very expertly disguised.

“What a fascinating place,” I said.

I further examined the artworks and noticed a particular style of “cubism” art that was very familiar.

“Aha!” I said. “That is one of Marc Chagall’s paintings.”

“Yes, it is.”

The voice made an image of Chief Stokowski form in my mind. This mental image made my body feel tense; I felt like I was frozen in ice. The voice came from behind me and I was too scared to turn around and see if Stokowski was really there.

“What the hell are you doing here?” asked Stokowski.

I looked at my SR, wondering why it hadn’t warned me. To my surprise, I noticed that it had warned me. I must have been so fascinated by the artworks that I hadn’t noticed it beeping.

“Unpleasant surprise is imminent,” I read. “To avoid unpleasant surprise: Attack Chief Stokowski.”

I was shocked to read this. I was terrible at fighting and Chief Stokowski was much stronger than me. My SR told me how to avoid unpleasant surprises, but it couldn’t help me win a fight. But, trusting in myself and my inventions had taken me this far, without serious trouble, so I obeyed the SR’s instructions without hesitation. I raised my fists and approached Stokowski.

“What are you gonna do?” asked Stokowski. “Hit me?”

Stokowski started laughing. I wasn’t sure what to do, so I just stood there, moving my fists in a circular motion in front of me, the way I’d seen fighters do it in movies.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” said Stokowski. “You seriously want to fight me? I’d kill you in a fight, kid!”

My SR beeped and I stopped to look at it.

“Urgent!” I read. “SR beeping to distract you from the fight at the ideal moment.”

During the moment I was distracted by the SR’s beeping, Stokowski grabbed me by the lapels of my trench coat and pushed me violently. I was thrown across the room and fell into an open plastic display case. The force of my impact against the back wall of the display case caused the door of the case to close.

“What the hell!” shouted Stokowski.

Stokowski walked towards me. I could easily recognize the anger on his face. I expected him to open the door of the plastic display case and pull me out. But when he tried to open the door, it didn’t move. I noticed there was a small metal lock on the door. Stokowski had accidently thrown me into the display case and the door closed and locked behind me. I was locked in the display case and Stokowski couldn’t reach me. I was safe, for a while. Maybe long enough for Buckley to use the elevator and come up to rescue me.

“You lucky little punk, you!” said Stokowski. “How the hell did you do that? I was ready to knock your head off!”

“Thank you, SR!” I said. I kissed it.

Stokowski started searching his pockets. Then he frantically searched the room, throwing things all over the floor and making a mess.

“I know I have the key to that thing somewhere!” said Stokowski. “You’re not safe yet, kid! I’ll get you yet!”

Stokowski didn’t find the key, but he opened a fire-prevention cupboard and pulled out a large axe. He looked at me and smiled. I couldn’t interpret his emotions, but I could guess what he intended to do and it made me sick from fear.

I looked at my SR, but it gave me no warnings about any “unpleasant surprises.” I closed my eyes and prayed, trusting in my own equations and inventions.

“I’m safe,” I said to myself. “Everything can be summed up in an equation. My equations work. My SR says I’m safe.”

I expected to hear the horrible sound of the axe smashing the plastic walls of the display case. Instead I heard Stokowski yelling and swearing. I opened my eyes and saw Buckley struggling with Stokowski on the floor. Stokowski’s eyes were wide open and I could recognize the fear on his face. Buckley’s face had all the signs that indicated anger. Buckley had taken the axe from Stokowski’s hands and was putting handcuffs on his wrists. Stokowski lay on the floor, breathing hard, and Buckley sat, looking at me with an exhausted expression.

“You okay, Trueman?” asked Buckley.

“Yes!” I said. “My SR worked perfectly! I didn’t suffer any serious unpleasant surprises! Now, we have Stokowski!”

“Yeah,” said Buckley. “But you managed to get yourself locked up. How’d you manage that?”

“The SR led me into here,” I said. “By being locked in here I was kept safe from Stokowski until you could arrive.”

“Uh-huh,” said Buckley. “Let’s just hope there’s a key. As for you, Chief, would you care to explain what you’re doing in this penthouse? According to my sources, this penthouse belongs to the Mafia boss known as Benvolio. How comes it that you’re in here? Are you apartment sitting, or what?”

“Shut your mouth, Buckley!” said Stokowski. “That’s none of your business! You’re not a cop anymore! And you got no proof of anything! You got no right to handcuff me like this! I’ll see you sent to prison for this! You and Trueman are as good as nailed! You’ve got no evidence I did anything here!”

Buckley sat silent for a minute. Then he stood up and walked towards the display case. Taking a long, slim lock pick from out of his pocket, he opened the lock within one minute.

“Your granddad was right, Trueman,” said Buckley. “Picking locks is a useful skill for a cop. If Stokowski here had bothered to learn it, he wouldn’t have needed an axe. But I’m afraid he’s right, Trueman. We got no evidence. When the cops come, he’ll go free and we might get in some trouble for this.”

“You bet you will!” said Stokowski. “I’d like to see you find evidence! Go ahead! Show me where the evidence is!”

As if in response to Stokowski’s request, the SR beeped. The SR included many of my old inventions, combined into one easy-to-use wrist device. It had my evidence-hunting invention included inside it. The compass appeared on my SR’s screen, pointing me towards the evidence that would convict Stokowski.

I left the display case and ran towards the north wall of the penthouse. A large painting of a river scene adorned this wall. Buckley followed me, examining the painting closely.

“Quite an art collection this Benvolio’s got here,” said Buckley. “I guess a successful gangster like him has lots of money to buy expensive artwork.”

“Yes,” I said. “Most of this work is original. This collection must be worth millions of dollars. This painting is by a famous modern artist named George Bellows.”

“Yeah?” asked Buckley. “It’s beautiful. Peaceful river scenes always get to me. I grew up right beside the Hudson.”

“Really?” I asked. “Well, then I’m not surprised you like this. This painting is called ‘Up the Hudson.’”

“Oh, so that’s the Hudson River?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said, “the way it looked about a hundred years ago. Can you hand me that axe?”

Buckley was still holding the axe he had wrestled out of Stokowski’s hands. He handed me the axe.

“Beautiful painting,” said Buckley.

“Yes,” I said. “The original is worth a lot of money.”

I lifted the axe and started smashing the painting. I ripped a gouge through it, and it made a loud splintering sound as I pierced the wall behind it. Buckley’s eyes widened and he stared at me. The shock on his face was easy to interpret.

“What did you do that for?” he asked. “You just said this painting’s worth a lot of money!”

I gave the axe back to Buckley.

“Thanks for lending me the axe,” I said. “And I didn’t say this painting was worth a lot of money. I said the original painting is worth a lot of money! This is a copy!”

“How do you know that?” he asked.

I looked at Buckley in shock.

“How long have you lived in New York City?” I asked.

“My whole life,” he said.

“And you’ve never visited the Metropolitan Museum of Art?” I asked. “The original painting of ‘Up the Hudson’ is hanging on a wall in that museum, so this has to be a copy! I’ve seen the painting there. Wow! I can’t believe you’ve lived here all your life and never visited that museum! I’ve only lived here for a few months and I’ve already seen the museum three times!”