The Bronze King Read Online Free PDF Page B

“Povvo,” only the first syllable was pronounced more like the a in “cat” than like o .
    â€œUm, could you spell that for me, Mr. Povvo?” I said.
    â€œP-a-a-v-o,” he said. “And it’s my first name. The last name is Latvela, but call me Paavo, okay? We don’t need formal for what we got to do. All right if I call you Val?”
    He stuck out his hand and we shook. He didn’t have the kind of hands you’d expect in a musician, all slim and arty-looking. My hand got squeezed in this thick, warm, meaty mitt.
    I said, “Can you tell me why things are disappearing?”
    Thank goodness, for once I didn’t have to explain or convince or anything. He said, “You mean besides Jagiello?”
    â€œYes, like our linoleum and my sandwich and—”
    â€œTell me the whole list,” he said.
    I did. He listened without saying anything, just taking a puff on his cigarette every now and then and squinting past the smoke.
    Then he said, “The kraken is trying to get from you whatever it is you got that it wants. The Princes are one way to get it from you. The kraken is using other ways, too. Only it can’t get a good fix on this thing, whatever it is, so it’s grabbing around blind for anything it senses might be connected with you.”
    â€œWill the lost things ever get found again?” I said. I mean, who knew what else was gone besides what I was personally aware of? Who knew what else might go? My mother was connected with me, for one thing. You can fight all you want with your mom, but you don’t want to have to try and get along without one altogether. Also I wanted my sneakers back.
    Paavo shrugged. “Maybe. I’d like my cap back, too.”
    â€œIt’s gone?” I said. “You think the kraken took it?”
    â€œNo, I think somebody grabbed it while I was sleeping last night, but I don’t know for sure. It’s okay, it was a little too small anyhow.”
    I wondered where he had slept where he could have his stuff stolen; not outside, I hoped, but there was no point in asking because there was nothing I could do about it if that was where he slept. I asked instead about what was really on my mind.
    â€œWhat can we do about this kraken?”
    â€œNothing today,” he said, glancing up at the sky. “The air’s all wrong and the light’s bad.” It was true we had this low overcast, very gray and dimming.
    â€œYou said we only have a few days!”
    â€œYah. Meet me here tomorrow, same time. We’ll see if we can find Jagiello.” He got up and took his violin case and walked away, just like that.
    He wasn’t tall but he walked with his head up, as though he was looking somebody taller right in the eye, and he had a quick, precise step that reminded me of some very sure-footed, bright-eyed animal—maybe a mountain goat. I thought he was neat.
    On my way home I stopped outside the local deli, the Lox Populi, where I shop a lot for Mom. Mr. Canetti and Mr. Steinberg, the owners, were out on the sidewalk with a bunch of cops. The two old guys were stamping and yelling and waving their arms.
    â€œNext time it could be the whole building!” Mr. Canetti shouted. “And who sees anything, who hears, who knows? Where are the police? Out giving tickets! While some lousy bums are carrying out a whole goddamn cold case loaded with food!”
    â€œTake it easy, Frank,” Mr. Steinberg said. “You’ll have a heart attack.” Then he took over the yelling while Mr. Canetti stood there glaring around like an old walrus.
    Somebody behind me said, “What’s going on?”
    It was the skinny boy from the park.

 
    4
Fiddle Magic
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    P AAVO HAD SAID THIS KID WAS ALL RIGHT, so he must be all right. In fact he was nice-looking, in a sharp-faced, irritable way, with long reddish brown hair and a green scarf tied around his neck. Now that I