A Graveyard for Lunatics

heard the back door suck its rubber gums as the soundless door exhaled wide, letting out a cool burst of refrigerated air. Not much larger than an Eskimo Pie, Manny Leiber peered out from his elegant icebox. ?Hey, you,? he said.

It was a hot day. I leaned into the refrigerated Rolls-Royce cubby and refreshed my face while I improved my mind.

?I got news for you.? I could see Manny?s breath on the artificial winter air. ?We?re shutting down the studio for two days. General cleanup. Repainting. Crash job.?

?How can you do that? The expense??

?Everyone will be paid full time. Should?ve been done years ago. So we shut down??

For what? I thought. To get everyone off the lot. Because they know or suspect Roy is still alive, and someone has told them to find and kill him?

?That?s the dumbest thing I ever heard,? I said.

I had found that insult was the best answer. Nobody suspected you of anything if you, in turn, were dumb enough to insult.

?Whose idea was this dumb idea?? I said.

?Whatta you mean?? cried Manny, pulling back into his refrigerator. His breath steamed in jets of frost on the air. ?Mine!?

?You?re not that dumb,? I pursued. ?You wouldn?t do a thing like that. You care about money too much. Someone had to order you to do that. Someone above you??

?There?s no one above me!? But his eyes slid, while his mouth equivocated.

?You take full credit for all this, that?ll cost maybe half a million in one week??

?Well,? Manny flinched.

?It?s gotta be New York.? I let him off. ?Those dwarfs on the telephone from Manhattan. Crazed monkeys. You?re only two days away from finishing Caesar and Christ. What if J. C. goes on another binge while you?re repainting the stages???

?That charcoal pit was his last scene. We?re writing him out of our Bible. You are. And another thing, as soon as the studio reopens, you go back on The Dead Ride Fast.?

His words breathed out to chill my face. The chill spread down my back.

?Can?t be done without Roy Holdstrom.? I decided to play it even more blunt and naive. ?And Roy?s dead.?

?What?? Manny leaned forward, fought for control, then squinted at me. ?Why do you say that??

?He committed suicide,? I said.

Manny was even more suspicious. I could imagine him hearing the report from Doc Phillips: Roy hanged on Stage 13, cut down, carted off, burned.

I continued as naively as possible: ?You still got all his animals locked in Stage 13??

?Er, yes,? Manny lied.

?Roy can?t live without his Beasts. And I went to his apartment the other day. It was empty. Someone had stolen all of Roy?s other cameras and miniatures. Roy couldn?t live without those, either. And he wouldn?t just run off. Not without telling me, after twenty years of friendship. So, hell, Roy?s dead.?

Manny examined my face to see if he could believe it. I worked up my saddest expression.

?Find him,? said Manny, at last, not blinking.

?I just said??

?Find him,? said Manny, ?or you?re out on your ass, and you?ll never work at any other studio the rest of your life. The stupid jerk?s not dead. He was seen in the studio yesterday, maybe hanging around to break in Stage 13 and get his damned monsters. Tell him all is forgiven. He comes back with a raise in salary. It?s time we admit we were wrong and we need him. Find him, and your salary is raised, too. Okay??

?Does that mean Roy gets to use that face, that head, he made out of clay??

Manny?s color level sank. ?Christ, no! There?ll be a new search. We?ll run ads.?

?I don?t think Roy will come back if he can?t create his Beast.?

?He?ll come, if he knows what?s good for him.?

And get himself killed an hour after he punches the time clock? I thought.

?No,? I said. ?He?s really dead?forever.?

I hammered all the nails into Roy?s coffin, hoping Manny would believe, and not close down the studio to finish the search. A dumb idea. But then insane people are always dumb.

?Find him,? said Manny and lay back, frosting the air with his silence.

I shut the icebox door. The Rolls floated off on its own whispering exhaust, like a cold smile vanishing.

Shivering, I made the Grand Tour. I crossed Green Town to New York City to Egyptian Sphinx to Roman Forum. Only flies buzzed on my grandparents? front-door screen. Only dust blew between the Sphinx?s paws.

I stood by the great rock that was rolled in front of Christ?s tomb.

I went to the rock to hide my face.