All Families Are Psychotic (11 page)

Polynesian wonderland off to the left, and a vast Rocky Moun tain-style timber lodge off to the righ t. Wade though t abou t his father. What
would
the world have to offer Ted Drummond , and the men like him, a man whose usefulness to the culture had vanished somewhere around the time of Windo ws 95? Golf? Gold? Twenty-four-hour stock readou ts? Sailboats? Extra decades of li fe? Past a certain poin t, what
is
there for a man's man in this society? Or, for that matter, here in Florid a — a land of massive science

projects cooked up by people like his father and his gol f buddi es — a place vividly in decline, yet brashly

on the way up. Wade ri fled through his mental snapshot index of the region, his images of dumbed-down theme park att ractions, crack dens, the space shutt le, malls bursting with doodads, freeways tangled like electric cords and the nigh tly evening news that felt like a recurring fever dream. He though t of the

burning sun and the beautiful, deadly creatures that lurked beneath muddy waters like bruises waiting to surface.

Wade's pocket buzzer went off and he took a 3TC capsule swigged down with the dregs of a can of Orange Crush. He felt seasick and chalked it up to the monor ail ride, now entering a large A-frame

concrete building he'd seen on TV thir ty years before. The hotel had once seemed like the future, and now it looked like . . . just another building . He'd never expected to see the structure in his li fetime, yet here he was.

The monor ail stopped at the Magic Kingdom and they disembarked. Wade remembered his conversation with Beth before leaving for Disney World : 'No freaky shit, got it? I don ' t care what deal you set up for your dad, but
you
are not to be an accompli ce. Do you read me? And I don ' t care how much money we

owe the fertili ty clinic or whoever — I don ' t want you in the pen or on the lam. Read me?' 'I'll be fine.'

'Don' t eat junk food. You kno w what the clinic said abou t junk food.' 'I kno w.'

Ted and Bryan stood in a patch of shade that lowered the temperature not even a smidge. Around them churned a foam of tw o-parent families. Wade got to thinking :
How many of these fathers whispered like pigs into the ears of temps in the off ice supply room? How many were spending their noon hours in

motels? And the mothers — how many were starting to drink Chardonnay with their lonely lunches in the ki tchen? How many felt trapped and unloved? How many were almost sick with jealousy over ' that brigh t young gal who's just turned the marketing department upside-down with fresh ideas?' — That brigh t

young gal with a future as big as Montana and legs like Bambi's mother's?

His father's voice interrup ted his reverie: 'So where do you kno w this Norm guy from?' 'Kansas City.'

'What does he do?'

What does Norm, do?
'Norm is Norm for a living. He's based in Tampa now.' 'He's late.'

'No, he's not. We're exactly on time — a sligh tly different thing.'

Pow!
A parade burst out of nowhere, like a living room turning into a surpri se party.

'Give this place a mute butt on and it migh t be OK,' said Ted. His voice picked up. 'Geez, look at the knockers on Miss Mermaid.'

'I never understood the deal with mermaids,' Bryan said. 'I mean, how are you supposed to actually
do it

with one? And I mean, she's got a great rack and all, but she's half
fish.'

'Bryan, she's a goddamn cartoon, you moron .' Ted was indeed not in a Bryan mood. Soon the tw o were focused on Beauty, floating by them, seated atop a mobil e balcony along with Beast.

Where's Norm?

Wade was feeling dizzy. The glare and the crowds were swamping him.
I'm in Walt Disney World. I never

though t I'd be here, yet here I am. No newspapers. No li tter. No evidence of the world outside its borders

• like a casino, really.
  

  Endless distractions. It could be 2001, it could be 1986, and it could be 2008. And all these young parents
  

• so much younger than me — no old people save for Dad. A few bored and embarrassed teenagers. This is supposed to be li fe-affirming ? This place is like some cosmic dream crusher. All you can get out of a
  

place like this is a creepy li tt le tingle that lets you know your kid is never going to be anything more than a customer -that the whole world is being turned into a casino.

'Wade.'

It was Norm, a ponytailed beanpole, no child in tow, with skin the pale yello w color of those with

overtaxed livers. He was carrying an attache case, an item that stood out in Disney World like a machine gun. Norm motioned for Wade to follo w him into an olde-time restaurant away from the throng . Wade

grabbed Ted and Bryan and headed after Norm into the restaurant, where he'd already secured a table in the far corner.

'Norm, this is my dad, Ted, and my bro ther, Bryan.' 'Charmed.' Norm made no eff ort to shake hands.

There was an awkward silent moment, and then Ted asked, 'So, Norm, what is it you do?' 'I follo w in my father's footsteps.'

'What did your father do?'

Wade cut in, 'Dad, I'm sure Norm doesn' t want to be job-interviewed.'

'No, Wade. It 's OK,' Norm said. He turned to Ted. 'After World War II, my father made his living returning stolen artw ork to its righ tf ul owners.'

'Decent,' said Ted.

'Yes. Very decent. Very noble. And you can just imagine the bargains and temptations and bribes that came my father's way. And you kno w what? Not once did he ever succumb.'

'Really now?'

'Yes, Ted, really. And because of this nobili ty, we spent our lives in a tw o-and-a-half-bedroom Monopol y token of a house in one of Kansas City's lesser suburb s.'

'I see.'

A waitress in period costume broke in and demanded their beverage order. They ordered iced teas and she left.

Norm continued. 'Fortunately, dear old Dad allo wed me to escort him on many of his jaunts. I'll never

forget the day we returned a Rubens to a camp survivor who once owned a chain of department stores in Baden-Wür temburg . I become warm and
verklempt
every time I think abou t it. But that's not too often, really.'

Four iced teas were plunk ed onto the table. From his attache case Norm removed a flask of peppermin t schnapps. 'The favored beverage of teenagers around the world. It rots my gut, but leaves my breath

min ty fresh. Life is such a collection of li tt le trade-offs.' 'Go on,' said Ted. 'You were talking abou t your father.'

Norm finished spiking his iced tea. 'Yes, well, dear old Dad let me come along on his trips, and the greatest gift he ever gave me was making a proud moral poin t of ensuring I knew who among his clientele were the biggest bribers, sleazebags and connections in the business.' He sipped his tea. 'A

toast—' The four men raised their glasses. 'To dear old Dad.' They toasted and then Norm 's face became almost wistf ul. 'His Piper Cherokee hit a set of utili ty lines outside El Paso in 1981, after which I took over the family business. Needless to say, I do not live in a tw o-and-a-half bedroom Monopol y token house.'

Ted said, 'The war ended over fifty years ago, Norm. You mean you can still do good business finding and returning loo t after all these years?'

'The war?
Pffft .
These days my job is to—' He paused. 'Find objects, find people, and then match them up.'

Bryan said, 'So you're not a drug dealer then.'

Norm howled. Ted slapped Bryan on the chest. 'Christ, what a loser, Bryan. Keep your trap shut.' Norm stopped laughing enough to say, 'No, Bryan, no drugs.'

From across the restaurant came a commo tion.
'Ladies and gentlemen, we have an impor tant

announcement to make. Young Cicely at this table here is eight years old today. Please join us in singing her a very " Happy Birthday".'
Young Cicely, flanked by tw o camera-crazed parents, bravely tried to

exhibi t enough pleasure to be worthy of the attention thro wn her way. The restaurant, like everywhere else in the theme park, burst into song. At the song 's end, the patrons clapped, and Ted said to Norm, 'This place is driving me apeshit. Norm, get to the poin t. Wade says you and he have some kind of caper I can help with.'

Norm cocked an eyebro w, stole a quick glance at Wade and said, 'A caper! I haven' t heard that word since the last time I saw Faye Dunaway in a mink stole driving a pink Corvette into Mexico.' He looked squarely at Wade: 'Tell me abou t this caper, Wade.'

What an asshole.
'You made your poin t, Norm. Tell my dad abou t this courier gig, and the sooner we'll be out of here.'

Norm said, 'Very well. Mr. Drummond , allo w me to show you and your sons the artifact in question.' From his attache case he removed a clear, zippable sandwich bag. Inside it was a white greeting card envelope that was in turn pro tected between tw o screwed-together sheets of clear plastic. He sighed and handed it over to Ted, whose eyes immediately goggl ed.

'Holy shit. Is this what I think it is?' 'Yes, Ted, it is.'

Bryan said, 'Lemme see it,' and tried to grab it, but Ted swatted him on the knuckles with a spoon. 'Ow! That hur t. Lemme see.'

'Show some respect, you li tt le twerp.'

Bryan looked at the envelope's fron t. It read:
Mummy.
'Big deal. What is it — a map to some stolen Egyptian mummy or something?'

'Oh,
Jesus.'
Ted was stilled with awe. Wade was in a form of shock, too.

'What's going on here?' asked Bryan. 'It 's just a Hallmark envelope with a card in it or something. Just a—' He froze. 'It 's from the funeral. It 's from the coff in . . .
her
coff in.'

Norm took the letter from Ted and placed it in his attache case. 'Yes, Bryan, it is.' 'Lemme see it again.'

'No.'

'That í's the real letter, isn' t it?'

'I already told you, Bryan, yes, it really is. People don ' t spend ten million dollars on fake letters.'

The Drummond men sat speechless as young Cicely across the restaurant sliced her bir thday cake. Ano ther song began, and Wade entered a trance.
I shouldn ' t be tired, but I am, and I have to slog through the rest of the day. And what the hell is Norm doing with a copy of that English Willi am-the-Prince guy's letter

from his mother's coff in? And why does Bryan have to be such a goof? And please, God, let Dad make his money and then let him run far, far away. The music in this place — it 's so loud and so blank. And my

glands are so raw—

'Wade?' Bryan was shaking Wade by the should er. 'You OK?' 'I didn ' t sleep last nigh t.'

Ted spoke to Norm. 'How do you kno w the letter's real?' 'Oh,
please.'

'Has it been opened?' 'No.'

'Why not X-ray it?'

'We do not X-ray it because the envelope is part of the royal family's custom stationery, made of bleached birch cellulo se bonded on the inside with a titanium layer that keeps out both X rays and ESP. The letter

inside migh t as well be encased in lead.'

'What sort of person would buy a letter like that?' Wade asked.

'Wade, you of
all
people ough t to kno w that people will pay just abou t anything for just abou t anything.' 'What's that supposed to mean?'

'Tetchy, tetchy. The buyer could maybe be a rich class-obsessed Saudi who wants a social li ft . The buyer

could represent a faction hostile to England who wants to hold the letter ransom in return for a poli tical favor. The buyer could be the heir to a low-end retail outlet chain who once fell in love with an

Englishwoman. Who kno ws? Maybe it 's the Franklin Mint, and they want to own it so they can make licensed copies.'

'It 's that Kraut in Lyford Cay,' Wade said. 'Isn' t it? Florian.'

'You
do
have ESP, today, Wade. Maybe your powers can penetrate the envelope.' 'What's Lyford Cay?' Bryan asked.

'It 's the Richie Rich part of the Bahamas,' Wade said.

Bryan wasn' t interested in this. He asked Norm, 'Can' t you steam it open?'

'No,' said Norm. 'Part of the ten-million -dollar price tag is the confidence that the letter's message be kno wn only to its owner.'

Ted asked, 'How does a person even go abou t finding a letter like this anyway?'

'She was cremated,' said Norm. 'The local crematorium was borro wed for the evening. There was chaos. Things slip through cracks. And so forth.'

'Why would they cremate her? I though t she was buried on a li tt le island in a lake.'

'Bryan, do you honestly think the royal family wants DNA like hers lying around ? The secret service most likely went through her boudoir to find her old toenail clipping s to flush down the toilet. As for Prince Charles, well, they're probably cloning
him
like a battery chicken. Royalty is either going to do very well

with bio technolog y — or it 's going to disappear completely. Regardless, we are Americans. Our very roo ts are nouri shed at their deepest levels with our disgust for the monarchy.'

'It 's so sad,' said Wade.

'Oh, boo
hoo.
Just get it to the Bahamas for me by tomorro w nigh t. You kno w where he lives.' 'What's our cut?' asked Ted.

'One percent of the take. Cash.' 'We'll do it,' Ted said.

'What do you mean
" we"?'
Wade asked, more irked at how Dad had hijacked the proceedings than anything else. 'Exactly whose gig is this?'

Ted said, 'We're all in on this, Wade.'

'I think I'm feeling love in the air,' said Norm, with a paternal smile. 'Norm, why don ' t you just take it there yourself?' Wade asked.

'Because, young Wade, the Bahamian gendarmes kno w me far too well. You kno w how nasty those Bahamians can become over a stack of, how shall I say, " unpaid parking tickets". You three chaps will be my go-betweens.'

Wade was unimpr essed. 'There's something else, isn' t there?' 'Actually yes,' Norm said.

'I
though t
so.' 'What is it?'

'Well, the thing is' — Norm lowered his voice an octave — 'I'm not really supposed to
have
this letter.' 'Don' t tell me — the people who actually own the letter — if ownership is even the correct word in this case — want it back.'