"Rajnar Vajra - Viewschool" - читать интересную книгу автора (Vajra Rajnar)

"You should've seen Buddha's reaction."

"The kid with the grin?"

"Right. Chris Lowry. You know, his previous teachers have described that grin as anything from a hostile
act to a bad habit but the way his face froze up even tighter ... I'm just thinking out loud. We've got three
mysteries here, Marty, not two. Speaking of which, did you come up with anything more on Madeline
Broms?"

He shifted uncomfortably. тАЬNot really. Well, I'll be visiting you less frequently from now on. You seem to
have it together. Wish I could shake your hand right now. Bottom line: you're handling a bitch of an
assignment with flying colors!"

Two clich├йs and a sloppy metaphor. I stared at my ghostly visitor for a moment. тАЬIs everything all right,
Marty?"

"You bet. I'm just busy right now. Catch you later."

Apparently I'd found a quick way to get administration out of my hair. Just mention Madeline Broms.
****
I cooked my famous Cajun spaghetti for the family that night and only got one grumble, тАЬToo spicy again,
Dad,тАЭ from Tendayi, my seven-year-old daughter, who asked for seconds despite her critique. Dori was
feeling worse and went to bed early while the boys and I cleaned up. I kept mulling over my conversation
with Sergeant Lopez. He hadn't specifically asked me to drop my own investigation. And his folk-ism
about the mule and the wagon could be taken two ways.

The boys hit the books and I pulled out my Last Chance folders and joined my progeny in the living
room. Tendayi was watching TV with the headphones plugged in and I put my ear close enough to hers
to reassure myself that her volume wasn't too cranked. My wife refers to such parental tasks as being on
тАЬsuicide watch.тАЭ As to the boys, Dori and I can't figure out how they can study when the TV's on, even if
the sound is off, but they seem to prefer the, um, ambiance. The flickering kept distracting me, but then
the files weren't telling me anything new.

Until I noticed something peculiar in the Broms profile: Madeline's mother was only listed under Corinne
Broms, her married name, and the grandparents weren't named at all. Meaningless secrecy. How hard
could it be to track down the Bar Celona's owners on the Internet? I nodded to the TV since it was the
only thing in the room asking for my attention and hurried into the study before I could change my mind
about calling the grandparents.
The National Telephone Directory had no listing for Bar Celona, likewise the White Pages, the Austin,
and the Westlake Hills directories. Google grabbed a horde of restaurants, several warehouses and other
ends and odds, but no ranches. Someone, or more likely some agency, had deleted every such
reference. Several sites keep historical snapshots of the Internet by date and even there, I couldn't get a
hit.

I found a number for Madeline's father, Robert Broms, without much fuss, but when I began outlining
why I was calling he hung up immediately.

"I'm not cut out to be a detective!тАЭ I shouted in frustration.