The Chrononauts

Victoria was in the backyard, playing with Larry and Snowflake. She would hide the stick and then throw it for Larry. The owl would swoop down and take it from him and let him catch her and get the stick back.

The next afternoon, Mrs. B. dropped Victoria off at the squad room so Mrs. B. could do errands and get the ingredients for a meatloaf. It was a favorite of Larry and Snowflake.

The sergeant and his friends loved seeing her. She gave them track picks and made them oodles of money.

Victoria gushed, “Hello, Uncle Smithy. The double today should pay a hundred-to-one.” Smithy blushed. Brady chuckled at him in the background. Brady, Matt, and Grogan were trying to ID a man in an old picture for the D.A.

Curious, Victoria came over and saw them going through graduating classes of MIT. She bit into an apple and asked, “What are you guys doing?”

Brady said, “We are trying to find a man who graduated from MIT a long time ago for the D.A. All we know is his first name is Walter.”

She laughed. “My grandfather went to MIT and his name is Walter, but he graduated way before the years you are looking at.” Matt chuckled. “That would make him pretty old, Victoria.”

Harvard’s nap in the sun was interrupted by his approaching uncle, Senator Howard. He knew his uncle well and had a feeling he might come for a publicity shot. He found that revolting but decided to go along with it so he would leave. Snowflake landed on the top bar of his wheelchair.

His uncle laughed, “Is that a friend of yours?”

Harvard smiled and replied, “Yes. She is, in fact, my best friend. What is with the photographer?”

The senator said, “I thought I would get a shot of us for the paper.”

Harvard chuckled. “I am sorry, uncle; I don’t have my thong.”

His uncle definitely cringed. “That is very funny, Harvard. I figure you owe me a favorable picture.”

Harvard snorted, “Why? Is your campaign in that much trouble?”

The senator lied and said, “No. Not in the least.”

His aide looked at the owl. “Hey, maybe we can get a picture of you two with the owl.”

The owl gave him an enthusiastic hoot and bobbed her head up and down. His uncle laughed. “Wow. You would swear the stupid owl knew what you said.”

Harvard knew something bad was going to happen. He stumbled, “Um, I wouldn’t be surprised. I don’t think this is a good idea, sir. The owl is an excellent judge of character.”

The senator looked at a smiling Harvard; that was an insult.

Senator Howard laughed. He thought, “I didn’t think the little twerp had it in him.” He smiled at the owl. “Well, let’s hope she is a Republican.”

Harvard sighed. “Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you.” The owl jumped on the shoulder of the very pleased Senator Howard.

“Okay, everybody smile.” The camera flashed. “Shit! The freaking canary shit on my five thousand dollar blazer. Irate, Howard looked at Harvard. “If I didn’t know better, I would think you knew this would happen.”

Harvard chuckled. “If I didn’t know better, I would think you only came here for a free publicity shot.” The senator stomped off.

Harvard looked at a guilty-looking Snowflake. “The flash startled you, right, Snowflake?”

He got one hoot.

“Yea, I thought so.” He slipped Snowflake a nice big piece of his ham sandwich.

Back at the station, the detectives were getting nowhere fast. Matt sighed, “Okay. Okay. What was your grandfather’s full name?”

Victoria laughed derisively. “His name is Walter Wonderful. And go back further.”

Matt did a search. “You’re telling me the old coot is still alive?”

Victoria giggled, “And kicking.”

Matt got a hit. “Here is one. No, he’s too far back—1901.”

Victoria looked at the pictures. “That’s him.”

Matt and Brady looked at each other. They opened the picture the D.A. had sent them in the e-mail. Brady nodded slowly, “Ah... it definitely looks like him.”

Victoria peered over his shoulder. “Yes that’s him with his friend Manfred. Matt and Brady looked at each other and stared at Victoria.

Mrs. B. was back. Victoria jumped up and down clapping, “She is making meatloaf. She is leaving out onions because they are bad for dogs. That will make Snowflake happy when she gets back, because she hates onions.” She grabbed Mrs. B. by the hand and tossed the apple core behind her back into the Bradys’ trash can. They started to leave, wearing their matching orange dresses.

Victoria turned around and mumbled innocently, “There is some of my grandfather’s stuff in the backpack. Feel free to go through it, boys. I’m sure you will find it all...interesting.” She walked out, laughing loudly.

Grogan shivered, “What was that about? I hate this hocus pocus stuff.”

The nurse dropped off an envelope from the Tribune with the picture of Harvard, his dear uncle, and Snowflake. Snowflake swooped down to his chair and looked over Harvard’s shoulder. “It’s a nice picture of you.”

The owl hooted once.

A very cold gust of wind hit Harvard square in the face. He laughed. “Oh, oh, we better get back inside; there is a storm coming.”

He got two hoots from Snowflake. He looked curiously at the owl.

Harvard laughed, “You want me to get wet? Those are cumulonimbus clouds up there.”

He got one hoot.

“Well, you don’t want me to stay out in the middle of a thunderstorm, do you?”

He received one hoot again.

“Are you sure?”

One hoot.

“Do you think I am crazy?”

One hoot. The owl looked kindly at him.

He sighed. “Well, okay. You got it. You know the ladies will try to wheel me inside, right?”

He got one hoot and Snowflake took off. They came running out to get Harvard. They followed his owl to the other side of the building.

Harvard chuckled. “You have a naughty streak, Snowflake.” Just then, Harvard got nailed by a lightning bolt. The women came back around the building, yelling at the owl. They kept falling in the mud and saw Harvard get hit by another bolt that left his wheelchair smoking. It burned Harvard’s butt and knocked him to the ground. He jumped up and ran by all the muddy therapists. They stood in the rain dumbfounded and watched Harvard disappear inside.

An hour later, the Bradys were all eating out in the back yard. The meatloaf was yummy. Larry and Snowflake had seconds and thirds. Larry was still working on the concept of sharing. They sat watching the red sun dissolve into the black hills.

Victoria casually mentioned, “Snowflake said she fixed Harvard’s spine. But his burns from the lightning will heal in about a month.” She giggled. “She said the one on his butt will take a little longer.” She then asked Larry if he wanted more meatloaf. Larry barked and wagged his tail. She laughed, “Why do I bother to ask the question?”

Brady and his wife stared at Victoria, who looked up in time to see Harvard stroll in. The Bradys were dumbfounded. Confused, Victoria laughed defensively. “Well, I did tell you Snowflake would fix him, Mrs. B.”

Harvard went over and thanked Snowflake, who looked embarrassed by the attention. Harvard chuckled, “Well, at least no one will try to kill me anymore.” He was surprised to get two hoots from Snowflake. Everyone stared at the owl.

Mrs. B. asked, “So, someone is still trying to kill Harvard?”

She got two hoots.

Brady looked at his wife and shrugged. “So, no one is trying to kill Harvard?”

He got two hoots. They both looked confused.

Victoria laughed. “Oh, come on, guys. Is more than one person trying to kill Harvard?”

She got one hoot. Victoria did her Patriots’ touchdown dance, singing, “We have a score, baby!”

She was surprised not to hear any cheering. “Come on, guys. Nobody can hurt Harvard if Snowflake, I, or our secret friend does not want him hurt. He is absolutely safe, guys.” Victoria returned to her victory dance with Larry jumping around and Snowflake flying circles over her head.

Harvard laughed nervously, “Well, I hope you are right.”

Victoria giggled at his face. “That’s good, since you are going to be killed a lot.”

Harvard squeaked. “It won’t hurt, right?”

The next day, the detectives were back to looking for information about Walter Wonderful. They were getting nowhere fast. Soon, everyone was staring at the backpack.

Brady laughed, “I think it is time for us to peek inside.” Grogan gingerly put it on a larger table. “Wow, this thing is pretty heavy.” They opened it cautiously. Grogan laughed, “There is a lot of stuff in here.”

Matt picked a handful up. “There are pictures, autographs, artifacts and CDs. Let’s separate it all into similar items.”

Brady blew dust off some old photos. “Whoa. Some of these pictures are really old daguerreotypes.”

Brady looked at some of the notations. “This collection was assembled by a scientific mind. Everything is sealed and labeled.” Matt laughed. “Like someone who might have graduated from MIT?”

Grogan looked closer. “We have some strange pictures: Dave with the T-Rex, our mystery man with the Red Baron, and a picture of a young Victoria with the man and the Baron. That’s not possible, right? This stuff gives me the chills. I hate this weird kind of stuff.”

Smirking, Harvard looked at some of the pictures. “Well, if they were time travelers, it would explain a lot.”

Brady reached for the pictures. “Let me see them, too.” A laughing Harvard handed a pile to Brady.

Brady chuckled. “What the hell? There are pictures of this Walter character with every single president and all are autographed, and on the back fingerprints and DNA packets.”

Matt was checking a pile of pictures, too. “Whoa, this pile has a lot of famous people: Curies, Wright Brothers, H.G. Wells, and if my Greek is right, Alexander the Great, and all the way back beyond the known civilizations.”

Harvard laughed loudly at a picture of Victoria holding hands with her favorite writer, Edgar Allen Poe, whom she had said really died from a virus. There was even a picture labeled “Jack the Ripper” with “Jack” holding a knife in his hand.

Matt looked at the piles. “Okay, let’s copy and photograph everything.”

The D.A. called about his picture. Grogan filled him in. “The man’s name is Walter Wonderful; he graduated from MIT in 1901, top of his class. He must be long-time dead, sir.” The D.A. thanked him and hung up. He noticed Grogan had hesitated before telling him he was long-time dead.

The captain came out, chomping on a doughnut. “Ballistics says the sniper was shooting at Harvard, not Victoria.”

Harvard laughed. “She will be sorely disappointed.”

The captain continued, “The shooter was a state cop who worked strictly for Senator Howard.” He stared at the piles of stuff on the desk. “I probably don’t want to know, detectives.” He smiled and grabbed a second Bavarian crème doughnut and went back inside his office.

Matt chuckled and grabbed a CD marked “Red Baron” and plugged it in. It started with someone on the ground taking a movie of acrobatics and finished with a dive under a bridge. The plane buzzed the ground right next to the person filming.

A girl was in the plane with him. The shot of her was only two seconds long. Brady stood up and looked closer. The plane landed and the Red Baron helped the girl out of the plane and both walked towards the camera waving until the shot went out of focus and ended. There were some other pictures in the end that were apparently taken by accident.

The group went to the Red Lobster that night with Harvard in tow. They were a lot quieter than usual. Mrs. B. sat next to Victoria, who noticed she was being stared at.

Victoria giggled, “Well, I see some mice have gotten into my backpack. The conversations tonight will be about Twilight Zone material, if I’m not mistaken.”

Brady smiled. “Okay, I will bite. Did you really fly with the Red Baron?”

“Yes, I did ride several times with the Red Baron. He was a good friend of my grandfather.”

Matt asked, “Um... he was really your grandfather? That would make him pretty old.”

Victoria laughed. “Okay, maybe he has a few greats in front of grandfather, but I assure you he is very much alive.” Mrs. B. looked confused. Victoria smiled. “What can I say? My grandfather travels a lot in what you call ‘fourth dimension’ and he brings me with him, if I am not in school.” She chuckled. “Obviously, my English papers on what I did during my summer vacations have to be tweaked occasionally.”

Antonio brought more crab legs to the table. Harvard questioned him. “I take it the detectives come here a lot?”

Antonio nodded. “They come here so often that they forget half the time. Like when they used to come with Mr. Wonderful. They stopped coming when Walter went away. He told me that in all his travels he likes it here best.”

Mrs. B. nodded. “Describe him to Harvard.”

Antonio looked at the ceiling. “Well, he was tall and slim but older. He was athletic-looking with very piercing blue eyes that looked right through you. He was funny but smart too. He went to MIT, I think.”

Victoria was surprised. “You have met my grandfather?” He nodded. “They all used to come in here together.”

Victoria chuckled. “He probably went to one of his stupid chess tournaments.” She looked at Harvard. “By the way, Harvard people are going to kill you soon. Snowflake is psyched for the action; it will be epic.”

She saw fear on Harvard’s face and laughed. “Don’t worry, it won’t hurt; in fact, you will start looking forward to it. We have no real proof at this time of what is going on, so we need the bad guys to come after you.”

Mrs. B. laughed. “I must say, Harvard, you are taking it all pretty well.”

Harvard looked embarrassed. “It probably doesn’t hurt that I am hammered.”

Dave was waiting for them the next morning. “Good morning, Detectives.”

Matt chuckled, “Thong Boy!”

Dave sighed and shook his head. “Give me a freaking break, guys. My desk and car have dozens of them draped all over. Someone even made Thong Boy bumper stickers. He gave Matt a long suspicious stare.

Brady laughed. “Okay, we will lay off if you have something tasty for us.”

Dave nodded. “I analyzed the CD. The shooter works for Senator Howard. He is a former state trooper. The limo on the CD belongs to Senator Abel. I managed to enhance the plate. Ah, who made the fake plane ride with the Red Baron and Victoria? Whoever did it is a real expert. I would like to meet him and find out how he did it. I can’t find any seams or overlays at all. If I didn’t know better, I would say it is real.”

Matt smiled at Brady. “Yes, we would also.”

Senator Howard was pissed. He had his aides in his office. “A freaking owl lands on the barrel of the gun as our guy was shooting and he falls off the roof? Moe, Larry, and Curly could have done a better job.” He looked at his recently cleaned blazer. “I want my little prick of a nephew killed by tomorrow. Call the damn Russians, and tell them I want verification of the kill.”

That afternoon Harvard was having a contest on his website for the best bumper sticker about Senator Howard. The winner got a hundred dollars and would have their sticker featured on Harvard’s car and the front page of the Tribune.

Harvard went down to put the day’s winner on his Corvette. He was shot three times in the chest and propped up against his car next to the new sticker.

The Russian laughed. “Easiest kill we ever made. That bumper sticker is pretty funny, no? ‘Honk if your daughter had sex with Senator Howard and is under twelve.’”

An hour later, Harvard strolled back into the squad room and got a coffee.

Matt smiled. “So, how do you feel?” Matt slid in a new CD of Harvard being killed. Harvard’s jaw dropped.

Brady chuckled. “We had to tell the guard it was a joke.”

Harvard laughed. “I didn’t feel a thing. I have to run down and have the guard take a picture of me, my car, and the bumper sticker for the Tribune’s nightly issue. They keep squawking about needing it sooner.”

Victoria and Larry were sharing ice cream. She laughed. “That picture will certainly screw with their minds.”

The senator’s bag man paid the Russians their fifty thousand in ten new banknote packets. Senator Howard bought the early evening issue of the Tribune showing a smiling Harvard with his winning bumper sticker.

He had got back to his office late. The Russian picture of a dead Harvard was in a manila envelope. He held it up and laughed. “Well I won’t have any more trouble from you, you little pain in the ass.” He stopped in his tracks when he saw the wall clock’s time. “What the hell?”

Brady and his friends arrived at the Red Lobster. Harvard got out of the Brady’s car and saw his uncle’s limo. He poked Matt. “Hey. That’s my uncle’s car.”

Victoria giggled. “Let’s screw with his mind.”

The group watched Senator Howard’s band of merry men enter the restaurant. Brady looked in the window and laughed. “He is seated. This will be great.”

Victoria laughed. “Okay, Harvard, you can’t laugh. You have to play stupid. Mrs. B. should go in first to distract the men. Brady will go in next to distract the women and ah...the other type of men.”

Brady blushed and laughed. “Oh, that was really funny, Victoria. Harvard can slink in at the rear and sit with his back to his uncle.”

After about ten minutes, the senator noticed the detectives. Howard kept staring at the back of Harvard. He finally sent one of his men to the cigarette machine to get a look at his face.

The man turned white and peered over at the senators with a slight nod. Harvard turned around and halfheartedly waved at him. The senator’s group left immediately. Everyone laughed loudly after they left.

Matt cracked, “Sooner or later, we will get him with his hand in the cookie jar holding a gun.”

The next day, the detectives got in early. Harvard already had his new bumper sticker on his car: “The favorite spread of Senator Howard is K-Y Jelly.” The Tribune promised a full front page spread.

Harvard came back to the squad room depressed. He kicked a piece of doughnut on the carpet. He sighed, “Nobody has tried to kill me today.”

A cheerful Grogan laughed. “Don’t worry, Harvard. The day is young.”

Meanwhile, the senator was irate with the Russians. “You idiots killed the wrong person. I sat one table away from the corpse last night at the Red Lobster.”

The Russian argued. “Your man verified Harvard’s fingerprints.”

The senators countered, “And he is floating in the harbor as we speak. Harvard will be at the Red Lobster again tonight at seven... last chance.”

The Russian chuckled. “I will give it my personal attention. Do you care about collateral damage?”

The senator laughed. “Yuri... you know me, the more casualties, the merrier.”

The day went slowly at the squad room. They were waiting for Dave’s final report. The D.A. called to ask how Walter died. Matt thought about it for a minute. “Victoria says he is alive and well, playing in a chess tournament somewhere. Victoria is a granddaughter of his.” There was a long pause.

The D.A. asked, “Did you gentlemen go to the Red Lobster for lunch and have the ‘all you could drink’ special? That would make the old coot 130 years old. Are you going to stick with that?”

Matt sighed, “Well sir, I went to MIT and I’m pretty sure I can count.” The D.A. laughed and hung up.

Brady was listening. “You’re one of those guys that used to stick hairpins in electrical outlets, aren’t you?”

Matt laughed. “Yes, I was. And we didn’t have any namby-pamby surge protectors in those days.”

Grogan chuckled. “Jeez, Matt you’re starting to sound like Victoria. Knock it off. ”

Yuri looked at his men. “The guy you killed yesterday for Senator Howard was the wrong man. The dead man ate supper at the table next to the senator last night. I don’t care how it happened. I only care that he is dead by tomorrow morning.

He is eating at the Red Lobster at seven o’clock. If he is alive tomorrow, you all won’t be. Are we clear, guys?” They all looked at each other and nodded.

The D.A. showed up at the precinct. “I thought I would beam over and talk to you, while you’re waiting for your saucer’s valve job to get finished. Well, you all look sober.”

Grogan squeaked out a laugh. “That was incredibly funny, sir.”

The D.A. sat down. “Okay, I am curious; tell me why I shouldn’t have you all locked up in a rubber room.”

Brady sighed. “We know you’re a history buff, sir. We are risking our credibility to show you this stuff.”

Matt brought out a bag of goodies and placed it on the table. “I am a scientist. I believe in facts. I believe everything in this bag is genuine, sir.”

The D.A. stared at the bag. He laughed. “Okay, you got me all tingly inside. Let’s see what you got.”

Matt swallowed. “This bag belongs to Victoria.”

The D.A. scoffed. “Are you talking about the little nine-year-old girl from court?”

Matt laughed, “Yes sir, the nine-year-old girl with the 200 IQ, who speaks eight languages fluently.”

The D.A. chuckled, “Point taken, Detective.” The D.A. grabbed a chocolate-covered doughnut and put his feet on the desk. Matt looked in the bag and first pulled out the picture of the Red Baron that the D.A. had. He handed it to him. Matt continued, “On the back of the picture is the date. If you look closely at the background, there is a little girl. Dave is enhancing it but said it will take several days. We think it is Victoria.”

The D.A. looked at Matt like he was insane. “Maybe I was right about the rubber room.”

Matt chuckled and pulled a pair of gloves and goggles with tags marked Red Baron out of the bag. “So, this proves nothing.” he said as he glanced around the room.

Matt next pulled out a portrait of the Baron. He handed it to the D.A. “Flip it over, sir.” said Matt. There were fingerprints and a sealed bag, labeled “DNA Red Baron Sept 4, 1917.”

The D.A. scoffed. “They didn’t have DNA testing back then.”

Matt chuckled. “Precisely sir, they didn’t, and here is the cherry on top.” He slid in a CD. This is a second CD of the little girl. The D.A. saw a triplane doing stunts.

It buzzed the field and he could see a little girl in the plane laughing and screaming. She kept turning back towards the camera as did the Red Baron who was laughing. The plane landed and the pilot helped a little girl out of the plane. He held her hand as they walked toward the camera. It was the Red Baron, no question. He saw the little girl get closer and closer.

He sat up straight and stared at the screen. “That little girl looks exactly like a younger Victoria.” They walked over to Walter who grabbed her other hand and they headed towards the camera until the focus went out and the filming ended.

Brady smiled at the D.A. “Would you like a couple aspirins, sir?”

An irate Senator Abel asked his driver. “What the hell happened to my limo?”

The driver stuttered. “A damn white owl and her friends kept dumping on it, sir.”

Abel yelled at him. “Well, you have a gun; use it, damn it.”

The driver thought for a moment. “I think I need a permit to shoot an owl, sir.”

Abel yelled again. “Did we need a permit to throw Howard’s sniper off the roof?”

He put his head down. “I guess not, sir.”

Abel stared at the driver. “Well, do you think I should worry about a stupid bird permit?”

The driver shook his head. “I guess not, sir.”

Abel chided him. “Good call, Carl.”