We waited in the car while Richard got us a room at the Dodd Motor Inn. It was 6:30.

"Room 114," said Richard, unlocking the trunk. "We'll walk." He'd started an exercise program that summer and was determined to walk a few yards every day. Dedication.

Before we went into the room I bought another newspaper.

"What's wrong with this thing?" Steve complained. I looked up from my paper to see him standing by the TV. The news was on, in black and white.

Richard was sitting, staring like Buddha, except that Buddha would have been thinner. "It seems to be functioning."

"Where's the cable?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"The sign said Cable TV, man! You know, dirty movies!"

"Oh, that." Richard seemed sad. "We received a substantial discount because room 114 is not equipped for cable, or color, television."

Steve slapped the TV loudly, said one of the few words which kept his vocabulary from being just a subset of Richard's, and walked out.

"This isn't a vacation," Richard bellowed, but his heart wasn't in it. After a few moments he returned to his trance.

The problem with TV is that when it's on you gotta watch it. After several minutes I found myself staring at a gorgeous woman, probably blonde but I couldn't be sure because of our substantial discount. "Take a little risk for real flavor," she breathed. "If you can handle it."

"Are you sure you're old enough to be watching that?" Steve asked. He was grinning again and carrying three Cokes, plus a box of chicken from the Colonel Sanders next to the hotel. He tossed a Coke to me; I caught it, barely.

Richard seemed unaware of our presence.

Steve set the third Coke on the desk and cleared a place to eat, on napkins, on one of the twin beds. "He'll come around when he smells food."

He was right. But Richard still wouldn't talk to us, even while he ate.

"Listen to this," I said, pointing to the newspaper. "Yesterday afternoon a pawn shop in Findlay, Ohio, was robbed and the owner was killed. The robber took $50 in cash, some clothes, a .38 pistol and ammunition, and --get this -- several cartons of Lucky Man cigarettes. What's the connection?"

Richard said nothing. Just continued to eat, staring quietly at whatever it is only geniuses can see.

In fact, he was still in the same chair, still silent when we got back later that night, I at 10:30 and Steve at 11:15.

"Find anything?" I asked Steve, from bed. I hadn't been able to sleep, even though Richard wasn't exactly what you'd call a party animal.

He kicked off his shoes. "Three phone numbers at the bowling alley."

"Somebody's seen Mike?"

"No. Three girls said Mike could call 'em when we find him, when I showed 'em his picture. Other than that, a complete bust. How 'bout you?"

"Nothing. I went to two hospitals and a bunch of fast food places. Blew fifteen dollars on cabs."

"Sixteen fifty," Steve countered. "Next time this happens, General Motors there is gonna have to let us drive his car. If he wants us to do the legwork."

That'll be a cold day, I thought.

Steve looked at Richard, at me and the empty second bed. "I guess it's like this. If I get in the other bed we'll both lie here all night wonderin' which of us the Man of Bronze there is going to finally get in bed with. Either of us could be crushed alive when he turns over in his sleep. There's no way I could rest knowin' that."

"Me either."

"So move over. I'll try not to snore."

© Copyright David T. Jarvis 1997, 1998, 1999

All Rights Reserved.