Chapter 74

“And so, ladies and gentlemen, the turmoil, the protests, the discord that was a big part of the country as America lurched from the sixties to the seventies, that created the foundation for today’s world. The upheaval shocked our society and forced us to look at ourselves in a new light.”

Archibald Maxwell stood on the bunting-covered dais and spoke to the hundreds of media representatives, tourists, and employees who crowded into Protest Plaza--the newest theme area at Nostalgia City. At the back of the crowd, listening conscientiously, Lyle and Kate stood in front of a sales cart that displayed tie-dyed shirts and peace-sign medallions.

“Much of the equality and tolerance--and yes, love--that we have today grew out of the protest marches of the past decades,” Max intoned. “To truly appreciate the authentic joy of those times that Nostalgia City represents, I realized it was important for us to put all the events of the past into perspective. And into our exhibits. Our dedication of this plaza today, the ’60s and ’70s news gallery plus the civil rights exhibit and the veterans’ memorial, symbolize the accomplishments and the heartache that marked the era.”

“I didn’t know he felt this way,” Lyle said. “This is an amazing speech.”

“Thanks. I wrote it.”

“Then Max doesn’t...”

“Oh, he does, in his own way. But it dawned on me, when I was writing this speech, that Max was an adult when the protests were going on. He didn’t take time for politics because he was struggling to make a living. But he’s come around. He understands what the protests brought about.”

“It all depends on your perspective,” Lyle said. “Everything does. Remember what I told you about Vietnam?”

“About accepting the past, because you can’t change it?”

“It’s true for everything in life. My dad, Collins and Bensen at the PD, everything. It’s past. Gone. My dad pushed me into things, but it was what he thought he had to do. It’s done now. Nothing to do but accept it. Everything.”

“And so you’re moving on?”

“I’m workin’ on it.” He held up his wrist to display the rubber band.

“You still need that?”

“Keeps me centered.”

“Maybe you should try TM.”

“I’ve been thinking about meditation. It’ll also help to be back in my comfortable cab, in a nice, quiet theme park.”

“I don’t see your police escort this morning.”

“The sheriff decided I was worth a risk.”

“I’m glad he agreed to keep the details of last night’s shooting under wraps.”

“At least until the media go home.”

“Your saving Martinez didn’t hurt. How’s the bullet wound?”

“Mine or his?”

“Yours.”

“It was a scratch. I’ve got it taped up. Martinez is okay, too.”

“And Renke’s in the hospital and his men are...”

“In jail or, in Morgan’s case, the morgue.” Lyle looked at the peace-sign medallions, hefting one of the larger ones in his hand. “Rey said they can prove that big guy is the one who killed my dad. They got statements from the others, and a stray fingerprint matched.”

“What about Johnny Cooper?”

“He and the sheriff have an agreement. It’ll work out.”

Kate turned toward Lyle. “You know, I suspected Bates for a while. He knew about your background all along. I thought he brought it up when he did just to divert suspicion from himself.”

“I wondered about him, too. He did know my background from the start. The only reason he recommended me to investigate is because he thought I was a nut case who wouldn’t threaten his job. Marko told me he earned some commendations at the FBI. Guess Max will keep him around.”

“For one second, I was worried about Max. I saw the name Maxwell on Kevin’s calendar. But it was Sean who came to see him. He probably wanted to find out if Kevin suspected anything.”

***

As Max worked toward the conclusion of his speech, Kate led Lyle around the crowd and behind the platform. “I want you to see the exhibits and shops.”

Two sides of the new plaza were lined with displays featuring newspaper front pages, their headlines telling a story of recent history: Martin Luther King’s assassination, anti-war protests, Nixon’s resignation, and many other events. Kate and Lyle walked past the exhibits to a new store at the back of the square, Mrs. Ashbury’s. It offered long, Indian-cotton dresses, fringed vests, beads, necklaces, incense, and posters.

“Cool,” Lyle said, “a headshop.” He pointed to a window display of three white jars. The small China containers were labeled, Marijuana, Hash, and LSD.

“There’s no drugs for sale here. It’s a joke.” Kate grinned. “I hope Max is ready for hippie culture.”

Lyle looked at his watch. “By now the cops in Boston have rounded up Bedrosian and anyone else who was in on the scam.”

“Kevin will be glad to testify against him, especially after Bedrosian sent Renke’s men after him.”

“And hey, I got an email from FedPat. They’re going to cover all of Samantha’s expenses.”

“That was quick,” Kate said.

“Had to be a coincidence. But in the future, I think they’ll know who I am.”

Kate and Lyle wandered along the square and stopped in front of a coffee house.

“We tried to make this espresso joint look authentic for the period,” Kate said. “But it came out looking like a Starbucks.”

“Have time for coffee today, or do you have to pick up Bruce?”

“No problem. Bruce is still working on the condo sale.”

“Maybe we could go to the movies. There’s a new double bill at the NC Cinema. Looks good.”

“I know. The Godfather and Easy Rider.”

***

“As we look to the future,” Max boomed, “we see an expanded view of the past. Different directions and different expressions for Nostalgia City.”

“What’s he mean by that?” Lyle asked.

“Didn’t you know? Max wants to widen our market. We’re pushing up to the ’80s.”

“Cool. I’ll get out my Blondie albums.”