The Queen Con (The Golden Arrow Mysteries Book 2)

by Meghan Scott Molin

  “And tonight’s thank-you wouldn’t be complete without recognizing the benefactress who stepped in so magnanimously to help us when Latifah was injured. Cleopatra, come on up here so we can all give you a special round of applause.”

  Net two: deployed. Everyone is supposedly present and ready for capture.

  A quick glance at my bellwether, Daniel, confirms that I might look ill. He looks positively alarmed and ready to vault up on the stage. Okay. You’ve got this, MG. Superhero up. This is earning you XP points, as Ryan would say. Cleopatra climbs up onstage, waves to the crowd, and turns to me expectantly. Time for the pièce de résistance, and to put our suspicions to the test.

  Cheery smile. Cheery smile. “While the judges deliberate, I know we promised you a very special visit and a presentation you wouldn’t forget.” My mouth is suddenly filled with saliva, and I nearly choke. My anxiety is out of control. It’s scary being up here, so exposed, waiting to detonate what we hope is a catalyst for solving this case.

  “Without further ado, I introduce our special guest who will kick things off!”

  I sweep my arm to the side, allowing the violet velvet–clad figure to walk up the catwalk. Ryan’s imitation of Gene Wilder’s Willy Wonka is impeccable, and I have to say I had a dab hand on the costume imitation. I’m not a purist about many modern adaptations, but Anne of Green Gables, The Hooded Falcon, and Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory (sorry, Johnny Depp) are franchises that were done best first, and should never be done again.

  Ryan limps up the catwalk, hat cocked totally over his face, just as in the movie. The purple velvet looks amazing under the lights, and all around us the crowd grows silent and watchful. I know everyone is expecting Latifah. It’s what we’ve led them to expect, and we’ve padded Ryan to be a little bigger than his lean frame. The music cuts out, and the clink of Ryan’s decorative cane on the catwalk echoes as everyone watches with rapt attention. It’s dramatic perfection. Or it would be if I weren’t nearly passing out from the pounding of my heart. My eyes are darting everywhere. Will the Hatter make his move now? Wait until he sees if it’s Lawrence? Wait until Ryan’s announcement? Maybe nothing will happen. Maybe this is all a gigantic setup with multiple police squads for literally nothing.

  Near the top of the catwalk, I expect Ryan to stop and push up his hat in a jaunty manner, but he goes the full McGillicuddy. He drops into an impressive roll, dropping the cane to the side, and pops back up onto his knees.

  The crowd. Goes. Wild. At least they do until a confused murmur ripples through the room, scattering the applause.

  Ryan holds out his hands good-naturedly, then removes his hat. His large wig of frizzy hair—another nod to Gene Wilder—springs out, and a few people laugh, which he accepts with a cheery bow, top hat over his heart.

  “Thank you, good people; I realize I may not be the droid you are looking for.”

  Another ripple of confused laughter.

  “But let me assure you, I will be the best showman I can be while I let you in on a big secret.”

  I don’t know how he looks so calm, so natural up there. I’m dying back here. It’s all I can do to avoid reaching out and snatching Cleopatra’s perfectly smooth arm next to mine, just as insurance.

  Ryan continues, really yukking it up. “Good audience, you came to see a show, and I have to confess you’re about to be a part of a spectacular piece of Halloween history. Because among us, we have not only those dressed as villains but real ones as well.”

  The crowd, which had been getting into the spirit of Ryan’s monologue again, seems baffled.

  “But we all have a chance tonight to be real superheroes by outing those who have hurt the very community you’re here to support.” Ryan starts to explain that earlier in the summer there was a tragic overdose death, a part of the speech that seems innocent enough but targets our suspect.

  In front of me, Matteo straightens, waves slightly to get my attention, and nods over near Daniel. I pivot the merest degree and scan the crowd.

  There.

  A top hat. A top hat I’ve seen before. A vision of this hat from both the first party at the Zebra and then again at the black box theater comes crashing into my brain. I squint my eyes. If I picture a gold mask across his face, it could be the man from L’s fuzzy picture. I give a definitive nod. My Spidey-sense says it’s him. This is it.

  CHAPTER 31

  In front of me, Ryan is winding up for the pitch. “As senseless as that death is, it will shock you further to know that someone within your own community caused it. We have evidence to support that there is an individual, or individuals, present in this very room that contributed to the death of Louis.”

  The murmur that sweeps the crowd this time is shocked, and just about everyone side-eyes their neighbor.

  Ryan continues. “You are all about to be a part of one of the biggest drug busts in our city’s history. As we speak, we have two teams of police with warrants searching the known residences of these suspects—”

  It’s a lie. We don’t even know the Hatter’s name, or residence.

  “And it may shock you all to know, one or both of them are on this stage. Please welcome Detectives Rideout and Kildaire of the Los Angeles Police Department, please. They will be taking both of these people into custody immediately.” Beside me, Cleopatra is fidgeting. Positively vibrating. The pressure is getting to her, and I will her to keep cool. If she loses it now, she could jeopardize the entire setup. This was part of the plan. So that the person doesn’t figure out that she’s double-crossed him.

  As planned, Rideout makes a big show of clomping up the stairs opposite of Cleopatra, and everything happens in an instant. My reality explodes into movement and chaos as Cleo loses her nerve and spins—a wave of blonde wig and wings—and bolts for the back door.

  “She’s making a run for it!” yells Rideout. I make a grab for her arm, and we grapple for a moment.

  I have only the barest glimpse of the Top Hat melting quietly into the crowd before Ryan points with his cane out over the crowd, and everyone ducks and turns to follow where he’s pointing. “Stop that man!”

  In front of the stage, Matteo slings his boobs and bra over one shoulder, hand going to his holster, but I don’t get to see what happens. Cleo knocks me off-balance, and I plunge off the side of the stage. Over my shoulder, I catch sight of Detective Rideout—tie flying as he gives chase, hand clamped over his ear in an effort to stay in contact with the team spread out all over the venue. I cartwheel my hands as I fall, closing my eyes for impact. Except instead of floor, I hit a very solid something. Something human.

  I scramble up from a shocked Lelani as the crowd moves into a feverish dance, everyone craning their necks this way and that.

  “Which way did she go?” I ask, and Lelani points to the back of the stage while climbing to her own feet.

  “Sorry!” I yell as I barrel back toward the stairs. I’ll confront the “I just landed on a Genius executive from a stage where we’re chasing a criminal” later.

  Up onstage, pandemonium has broken loose. Half of the sponsors stand around like sheep, turning this way and that, watching the commotion. The other half have joined in the chase, running off backstage.

  “Where did they go?” a voice asks. “Are you okay? I saw you fall.”

  My knight in shining fish scale screeches to a stop at my side, one boob over his right shoulder, red wig askew, no green skirt in sight, shell bra around his neck like a necklace. I have the wildest urge to stop and mime having a cigar and say, “Hey, nice clamshells.” Focus, MG.

  “Kildaire!” a voice calls out. It’s Rideout. “She ran that way.” He motions to the group of people gathered around the back entrance.

  Matteo doesn’t waste time jumping back into the milling crowd. Rideout spins to me, and he and I share a thought. There’s three of us in pursuit of Cleopatra. Who is going after the Hatter? “You get back up on that stage and keep a lookout!” Rideout yells, pitching me a walki
e-talkie. I catch it midair and nod as he and Matteo head back into the fray. I swear I hear him growl as he doubles back, dashing for the front door and, I assume, the Hatter.

  I spin on my heels and run straight into Daniel. Without time to explain, I reach out, grab his hand, and yank him toward the stage. “Come on, ninja boy, we’ve got another suspect to catch!”

  Daniel is much nimbler than I am and keeps up with me with ease. “I’m not a real vigilante, you know,” he yells over the chaos.

  “Pity!” I yell back as the stage comes back into view. “We could really use one right now!”

  Onstage, the only one left at this point is Ryan. He’s craning his neck, peering into the crowd, and yelling into his earpiece. My walkie-talkie squawks with whatever he says, but I can’t make it out. So much good that does me. I chuck the walkie-talkie to the ground. I can only assume Ryan is directing . . . well, who, I’m not clear on.

  A shout near the front door alerts the crowd to a new happening, and Daniel and I pivot as one to see Amy Blondoniss in hot pursuit of the Hatter. For a six-foot-tall guy in heels, Amy is remarkably agile. But the Hatter, impressively yet disappointingly, is more so. He does a neat tuck-and-spin move that looks like something straight out of Swan Lake. His coattails fly out. It’s like he does a double axel skating jump on dry land and switches directions, right back the way he came—right over the top of Amy Blondoniss, who does an admirable imitation of a quarterback diving for a ball but missing.

  Daniel and I suck in our breath as one; we watch as the unidentified assailant—Lawrence’s would-be murderer—bursts right out the front door and into the crowd outside. Amy Blondoniss and Rideout follow, but the odds of finding him in this crowd have got to be abysmal.

  We’ve lost him.

  CHAPTER 32

  I spin around, determined to throw in with Matteo, only to find the door to backstage hanging open too. A small group of people mill around it, talking and pointing.

  I yell several expletives, grasp Daniel’s hand, and drag him straight off the stage and through the backstage door. The parking lot is filled with cars and people, and I think I see Matteo’s form dodging around the corner of the building, so I take off in hot pursuit. Daniel keeps up on my heels, and we screech around the corner only to be met with a literal wall of parade-goers. Floats filled with lights still make their way down the street, and costumed witches, goblins, and every fandom spook fill the space between floats.

  I dodge a guy with a tuba. And nearly run into a seven-foot-tall Jack from The Nightmare Before Christmas.

  This is literal insanity.

  “There!” Daniel yells, pointing off to our left. I glimpse Cleo’s form diving into a group of Walking Dead cheerleaders, and the oddly lumpy form of Matteo, boobs still flopping over his shoulder, diving in behind her.

  Footfalls echo behind us, and I glance over my shoulder to see Ryan, Lelani, and several of L’s friends skidding to a halt behind us.

  I wave my arm, hoping Ryan sees it before plunging after Matteo, my ears filled with some creepy circus music piped from the nearest passing float.

  Daniel dodges some dude on a bicycle, and I leap over several of the cheerleaders who have been knocked to the ground by Cleo’s flight. It’s only seconds before we catch up to Matteo, attempting to make his way upstream after Cleo, who isn’t having much more luck. She gets stuck against the side of a float that has stopped, and I see our chance.

  “I’ve got this,” Daniel yells. “Hoist me.”

  “What?” I yell; I can hardly hear.

  Daniel mimes me making a basket with my hands, and I throw him an incredulous look. “No way!”

  “Come on!” He pulls me to a stop, and without thinking too much, I basket my hands, and he puts his foot in.

  “On three!” he yells. “One! Two! Three!”

  I have no idea what I’m doing, but I boost my arms up as fast and as hard as I can, and somehow Daniel flies upward like some magical rocket ship. I’m knocked backward onto my rear, but Daniel’s sheer athleticism saves him. I have no idea how he manages it, but he does a slow flip through the air, landing literally on top of Cleopatra. Not a moment later, Matteo sprawls onto the pair of them, handcuffs already out.

  Not even attempting to wade my way to them, I instantly turn to look for Top Hat, Rideout, or Lelani or Ryan. There’s no way to know which direction they’ve gone. I’m temporarily blinded by two people walking by, covered head-to-toe in glow sticks, but when I open my eyes, I spot something familiar atop the float next to me. It’s Top Hat, peering over the edge like he’s trying to hide, watching the fate of Cleopatra.

  “Matteo! Above you!” I yell, pointing up.

  I tip Top Hat off, and he immediately disappears, but Matteo also thankfully hears me, and I see him press his hand to his ear. Please, please let Rideout be close.

  I set off at a sprint, rounding the side of the float. Hoping I see anyone familiar. We can’t let him get away, we—

  That’s when I see the literal net of people making their way up the street, led by none other than Lelani. She’s cool as a cucumber, in the dead center of a line of people, locked at the elbows, that stretches from one side of the street to the other. The crowd has gotten wind that there’s something up, and most people move out of the way or duck under as the chain passes.

  It’s bloody brilliant, is what it is. The net of people stops the fleeing Top Hat in his tracks, and he doubles back, hopping back into the float he’d just jumped out of.

  Only now can I make out the man’s face. He looks older than Lawrence, his dark face weathered with gray around his beard. The oddity nearly stops my forward momentum. Shouldn’t all villains be young? This man looks grizzled. He looks like someone’s dad. A nimble dad with ninja training.

  The net of people reaches the float just as Rideout sprints up on my left. I’m about to suggest that we close the gap when another familiar, hatted figure joins our fugitive on the deck of the float. Ryan.

  “LAPD business! Please exit this float!” he yells, and the inhabitants scramble to obey.

  Hatter senses his impending doom, and suddenly, everything happens at once. Instead of fleeing with the costumed attendees, Hatter launches himself straight at Ryan.

  Lelani breaks from formation and runs forward, her mouth open in a scream of warning. He’s going to mow right over Ryan, and none of us are close enough to nab him.

  Ryan, caught unawares by the leap, stumbles backward, badly off balance, obviously not wanting to engage a frantic would-be murderer. Can’t say I blame him.

  Ryan’s cane flashes up, and I’m surprised he manages the effort, given how bumbling he appears right now.

  Like a flash, the man’s cane comes out to meet Ryan’s, intending to knock Ryan aside.

  But . . . it doesn’t happen. Ryan parries the man’s cane, which outright surprises me. When on earth had Ryan taken up sword fighting?

  The two engage in a cane-to-cane duel for several seconds before the man realizes that this avenue, too, is fruitless. He glances over his shoulder at the uniformed police officers who have infiltrated the line, closing ranks behind him, and gives a laugh that sends chills down my spine and can be labeled only as maniacal. His gravelly voice is oddly audible over the shuffle of feet, its timbre so unusual it sticks out above the noise. “You think you’re so smart.”

  He does something odd with his cane—gives it a little shake, and something shoots out the bottom. I’m full-out sprinting now, desperate to get to Ryan. Without any further warning, he lunges toward Ryan, the end of his cane having turned into a three-bladed knife.

  Blood blossoms across Ryan’s throat as the cane makes contact with his skin and—

  An enraged bull of a man side-tackles the Top Hat maniac so hard it carries them both off the side of the stage and to the street in a series of sickening crunches. A bull of a man that looks an awful lot like Lawrence in the dim and creepy light afforded by the float. Around us, people scream and scatte
r, and in the distance, sirens wail to life.

  “Lawrence!” Ryan screams at the same time as my thought. He launches himself off the float, and there is a scuffle on the ground as police officers, Lelani, and several queens descend onto the dog pile.

  “Don’t be dead, don’t be dead, don’t be dead,” I chant, skidding over the edge of the float, looking where my best friend—who should be in the hospital—lies motionless on the ground. My other best friend is bleeding copiously from the neck as two policemen drag him to a sitting position. Lelani and one of the queens each take one of Ryan’s shoulders from there, hoisting him up.

  Someone screams—an animal scream. But it’s not someone in the crowd. As the police around Ryan clear slightly, I see it’s the man, being held against his will by Shwanda and Amy Blondoniss. In short order, several officers have joined them, and the man struggles anew.

  My feet have carried me to Lawrence’s side. Someone’s taking his pulse. Someone with copper skin and tousled curls. I do a double take as I slide in next to Whalon. The distraction is short-lived, though, as my eyes move to Lawrence, relief washing over me as L opens his eyes and starts to sit up, woozily.

  The Hatter points at us. “You stole everything from me. You deserve none of this. Casey would have been nothing without me. You got everything I was promised—a home, a job. And I was out on the street! And then when I came up with a brilliant business plan, you managed to sink that too.” He gives a laugh that sets my teeth on edge. “You and that boyfriend of yours. Guess who threatened to tell his father about you two? All I needed was the capital to start my business, and I’d have been set. But no. You had to go and get Casey killed, and kill my plan along with it.”