When I pulled a five-dollar bill out of my pocket and said the words “George ‘The Gluebird’ Melveny,” Waldo’s eyes popped out and he said, “The Genius,” in a voice others reserved for Shakespeare and Beethoven.
“Why is he a genius, Waldo?” I asked as the old man deftly snatched the five-spot out of my hands.
He started jabbering, “Because he’s smart, that’s why! Marquette University professor! Sister made him a crew chief until he couldn’t drive no more. He don’t sleep in her parking lot, he sleeps in a sleeping bag in the summertime on the beach by the lake, and in the wintertime he sleeps in the nice warm boiler room at Marquette. He so smart that sister don’t pay him with no booze–he don’t drink no more; sister pays him off with model airplanes ’cause he like to build them and sniff the glue! The Gluebird is a genius!”
I shook my head.
“Whassa matter, man?” Waldo asked.
“You think that’s five dollars’ worth of information?”
“I sure do!”
“So do I. You want to make another fin?”
“Yeah, man!”
“Then take me to the Gluebird, now.”
“Yeah, man!”
We went cruising, in the front seat of my sweltering Ford sedan, zigzagging the streets of Milwaukee’s lower-class neighborhoods in a random pattern until we spotted pairs of ragged men tossing handbills onto lawns and front porches. Some venturesome winos even jammed them into mailboxes.
Waldo said, “This is what sister call ‘saturation bombing.’ Bomb ’em right into her parlor, she says.”
“How much does she charge?”
“Three dollars!” Waldo bellowed.
I shook my head. “Life’s a kick in the brains, isn’t it, Waldo?”
“Life’s more like a kick in the ass,” he said.
We drove on for another half hour. The Gluebird was not to be found among his colleagues. Exhaustion was catching up with me, but I knew I couldn’t sleep.
Finally Waldo exclaimed, “The hobby shop!” and started jabbering directions. All I could pick out was “Lake Michigan,” so I turned around and pointed the car toward a bright expanse of dark blue that was visible from our hilltop vantage point. Soon we were cruising down Lake Drive, and Waldo was craning his head out the window looking for the Gluebird.
“There!” he said, pointing to a row of shops in a modern shopping center. “That’s it.”
I pulled in, and finally spied a joint called Happy Harry’s Hobby Haven. At last my exhausted, dumbfounded brain got the picture: Happy Harry was George Melveny’s glue supplier.
“Stay here, Waldo,” I said. I parked and walked into the little store.
Happy Harry didn’t look too happy. He was a fat, middle-aged man who looked like he hated kids. He was suspiciously eyeing a group of them, who were holding balsa wood airplanes over their heads and dive-bombing them at one another, exclaiming “Zoom, karreww, buzz!” Suddenly, I felt very tired, and not up to sparring with the fat man, who looked like he would give a good part of his soul to converse with an adult.
I walked up to him and said, “George ‘The Gluebird’ Melveny.”
He said in return, “Oh, shit.”
“Why ‘Oh, shit’?” I asked.
“No reason. I just figured you was a cop or something, and the Bird set himself on fire again.”
“Does he do that often?”
“Naw, just once or twice. He forgets and lights a cigarette when his beard is full of glue. He ain’t got much of a face left because of that, but that’s okay, he ain’t got much of a brain left either, so what’s the diff? Right, Officer?”
“I’m not a cop, I’m an insurance investigator. Mr. Melveny has just been awarded a large settlement. If you point me in his direction, I’m sure he will repay the favor by purchasing glue by the caseload here at your establishment.”
Happy Harry took it all in with a straight face: “The Bird bought three models this morning. I think he crosses the drive and goes down to the beach to play with them.”
Before the man could say anything more, I walked out to the lot and told my tour guide we were going beacheombing.
We found him sitting in the middle of the sand, alternately staring at the white, churning tide of Lake Michigan and the pile of plastic model parts in his lap. I handed Waldo five dollars and told him to get lost. He did, thanking me effusively.