The Big Dip

by Melanie Jackson

“So lovely,” cooed Hugo’s wife. The rose’s creamy outer petals haloed the rich purple, closed petals at the center. “Like a painting, or a piece of porcelain.”

  “Or like a vanilla-grape ice-cream bar,” I said, wisecracking because I was nervous.

  Hugo tipped his head back and laughed. His wife didn’t know what to say.

  They both moved forward. So did I. Now I was right beside the plant. This was my chance. I stretched out my hands.

  Chapter Five

  And then…I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t steal the Margaret rose. I kept thinking of Hugo bringing his wife all the way from Victoria. I thought of all these other oldsters, so happy to be here.

  It was like there was a force field around the rose, stopping me from reaching any farther. I pulled back.

  Behind me, an old woman whispered, “I’ve had the same impulse myself. It would be fun to break off a petal, wouldn’t it? But imagine the trouble we’d be in!” She giggled.

  I shook my head. I didn’t have to imagine trouble. I already had it. I had nothing to give Trenchcoat. I’d blown it.

  I wiped sweat off my forehead with the back of my arm.

  “You all right, dear?” asked the old lady.

  I turned to say, “I’m fine, ma’am”—and saw, over the old lady’s snowy white hair, the stocky woman from the roller coaster.

  The stocky woman smiled, showing those pointy teeth I’d noticed before. “Hi, Joe,” she said. “Remember me?”

  “You’re the nurse,” I said, staring at her. I couldn’t believe it. “This is some coincidence, both of us being here.”

  She smiled wider. “My name’s Babs Beesley, Joe. We should talk about last night.”

  “Sure,” I said. “I’d like to know what you saw. Did you talk to the police?”

  Babs Beesley glanced down at the old woman, whose eyes had lit with interest at the word police. “We’ll talk in the gift shop, Joe. Not here.”

  In the gift shop, people crowded around display cases and shelves. Nobody was leaving the shop, so it was getting more and more crammed. “They need a traffic monitor,” someone grumbled. I heard Hugo politely ask someone not to step on his foot.

  I squeezed into an alcove called the Children’s Corner, with shelves holding coloring books, crayons, beads and tubes of glitter.

  Babs Beesley struggled through the crowd behind me. She held her big purse up like a battering ram, forcing people aside. As she got close to me, her pointy-toothed smile spread wide.

  I didn’t like that smile. It wasn’t friendly. It was hungry.

  Alligator hungry.

  And Ellie’s jumping rhyme came back to me.

  Call for the doctor, call for the nurse,

  Call for the lady with the alligator purse.

  Well, this wasn’t an alligator purse. More like cheap fake-leather plastic. Still, I studied the purse as Babs Beesley heaved it through the crowd toward me.

  I’d thought before that the purse was big enough to hold a gun, that the stocky woman might have shot Jake. But the woman had claimed to be a nurse. She had tried to help Jake.

  Tried to help him…or tried to force dying-breath information out of him?

  “Almost there, Joe,” Babs wheezed from behind her purse.

  I remembered someone else who wheezed and puffed at physical exertion. Trenchcoat, in the school basement.

  Trenchcoat wasn’t a guy. Trenchcoat was…Babs Beesley.

  “Okay, Joe,” Babs panted. “Time for a little chat.” She cracked her purse open and plunged her hand in.

  The idea I’d put aside jumped back into my brain in grisly Technicolor. Babs Beesley was Jake’s murderer. She’d shot Jake with a gun she’d pulled out of her purse.

  The gun she was pulling out now…

  I grabbed a mega-size tube of gold glitter off the shelf. Peeling off the cap, I squirted it into her tiny black eyes and all over her big, pasty face. She brayed like a mule.

  The purse fell, exposing the black gun she clenched. We’d already attracted attention with the glitter. Some had missed Babs and sprayed other people. Now, at the sight of the gun, screams filled the shop.

  “Grab the gun,” shouted Hugo. He sprang at Babs and started wrestling it away from her.

  Babs may have been out of shape, but she was strong. In spite of the glitter I was dousing her with, she kept gripping the gun. Hugo slowly bent her arm backward. Though braying with pain, she didn’t release her hold.

  Hugo’s wife and another woman pushed their way into the Children’s Corner. Uncapping more tubes of glitter, they joined me in slathering Babs Beesley. A huge gold pool of it plopped into her open mouth. Choking for air, she finally let the gun go.

  Hugo and I forced her to the floor. Hugo sat on her. He beamed at me. “And I thought VanDusen would be boring!”

  People crowded around. Two security guards pushed through, ordering everyone to stay calm. They’d called the police, they said.

  The police! I couldn’t let the police get hold of me.

  One of the guards put a hand on my shoulder. “Good work, son, helping to disarm this woman. There could have been a tragedy.”

  I just nodded. I couldn’t say what I was thinking—that there still could be a tragedy. Sure, the stocky woman was out of the picture—but where did that leave Ellie? Where was she?

  I tried to edge my shoulder free of the guard’s hand without seeming too abrupt.

  “The cops will want a statement from you,” the guard said. He was smiling, but he still held on to my shoulder.

  The ear-splitting crackle of a loudspeaker made everyone jump. A crisp voice announced, “Phone call at the entrance for Joe Lumby. Repeat, for Joe Lumby.”

  “Joe Lumby?” repeated the guard, releasing my shoulder. “Where I have heard that name before?” He crinkled his brow. “Hey, you’re Mojo Lumby.”

  Everyone’s gaze swiveled to me as I walked to the entrance.

  The cashier handed the phone to me under her window.

  “Hello?” I said.

  I glanced back into the gardens. The two security guards were striding toward me—along with two police officers. The cops must have used a service entrance.

  The guards didn’t look so friendly now. They had grim “gotcha” expressions.

  A voice hissed into my ear. “Very funny with the shenanigans at VanDusen, Joe.”

  Ellie’s kidnapper! Not Trenchcoat, a.k.a. Babs Beesley, after all. Someone else.

  Someone who was here, watching.

  “Yeah, funny, ha ha,” I gabbled, buying time. “Mojo, the one-man entertainment show, that’s me.”

  I craned around, surveying the gardens, the entrance, Granville Street. Where was he?

  “Cut the cackle, Joe. You want your sister back, or what?”

  “Yeah, I do. I’ll have the rose for you, I promise. Uh…” My gaze panned the street again, past a man talking on a cell phone—

  And swung back to the man. He wore a Vancouver Canadians baseball cap.

  It was the lean man from the roller coaster. He’d run away with Babs. He was her accomplice—and Ellie’s kidnapper.

  He was talking to me on the phone right now.

  I turned away, in case Baseball Cap looked at me. He looked leaner and meaner than I remembered. I didn’t want him to know I’d spotted him. Now I had an advantage. I knew what Ellie’s kidnapper looked like, but he didn’t know I knew.

  I blathered, making my voice uncertain, as if I had trouble remembering, “Behind the roller coaster at closing time, right?”

  He gave a scornful chuckle. “Bravo, Joe. By the light of the…shivery moon, shall we say?” The voice grew grim. “And remember: no rose, no kid sister.”

  Click.

  Chapter Six

  The guards and the police were almost on me. The sun glinted on the handcuffs dangling from one officer’s belt.

  I shoved the phone back under the cashier’s window. I glanced out at the street. Baseball Cap had left—unaware that
I’d seen him.

  Ducking under the turnstile, I barreled through a line of people waiting to get in. I felt like a bowling ball crashing into pins. One lady in high heels lost her balance and toppled backward.

  I was sorry about that, but there was nothing I could do. I couldn’t risk getting nabbed by the cops. I had to make that meeting tonight. I didn’t have the Margaret rose, but maybe I could bluff Baseball Cap.

  I broke into a run. The guards and police started running too. I heard them pounding behind me. But I didn’t worry about them. I could outrun anyone.

  I have to make that meeting. I have to get Ellie back.

  I jumped on the first bus heading back up Granville and switched to the Hastings bus. I couldn’t go home; the police would be watching for me. So, I headed to the PNE. I’d wait out the hours till closing time.

  And try to think of a way to bluff Baseball Cap.

  The Hastings bus was packed with kids heading to the PNE. The windows were cranked open as far as they would go. Big difference that made. The bus was a steam bath.

  A girl from a couple of my classes got on the bus. She was a friend of Skip’s more than mine. I’d had the impression she liked him— but then all the girls liked Skip. He always knew the clever thing to say to them.

  I unstuck myself from my seat and stood up so she could have it. She smiled and said hi, but I just shrugged back at her. I didn’t want to talk.

  I moved to the back of the bus to make way for other people getting on. Gripping the overhead rail, I pressed my forehead against my arm and shut my eyes. Me, bluff Baseball Cap, I thought. Right. I’m fast on the feet, not on the wits.

  I thought of what Skip had said. C’mon, dude. You can do anything if you concentrate.

  I had to do it. I had to get the better of Baseball Cap somehow.

  I took a deep breath, opened my eyes—and looked straight into the face of a policewoman.

  Wait. She was wearing a uniform, but she wasn’t police. She was a transit official.

  All the same, her stony gaze locked on me. “What’s the matter with you, kid? What are all those scratches? You been in a fight? ”

  My lips were dry. I ran my tongue over them, but it was dry too.

  “We don’t want trouble,” the transit woman said. “Not in this heat. Maybe you should get off the bus.” She fingered a cell phone sticking out a side pocket of her purse.

  “No trouble, ma’am.” I forced the words out of my parched mouth. “That’s not it. I…”

  People were watching us. Among them, the girl from school.

  I said, “My girlfriend’s up there. She wants me to go join her. Excuse me, ma’am.”

  I pushed past everyone. They all just kept gawking.

  The girl’s name was Amy…Amy Claridge, that was it. She had long dark hair and stared at me solemnly. She was wearing a red smock with a design of orange flames on the front. Above the flames, black letters proclaimed HERBIE’S RED HOTS. Herbie’s was a food stall at the PNE, famous for its extra-spicy hot dogs.

  I stared back at her as sweat dripped down the side of my face. I wasn’t like Skip.

  I had nothing clever to say.

  So, leaning down, I just whispered, “Please. Don’t give me away.”

  Her dark eyes were doubtful. I didn’t blame her. I looked like a cat’s scratching post, not a law-abiding average Joe.

  Around us people started talking again. The transit official took an empty seat and looked out the window. Little kids squealed with the excitement of going to the PNE. Nobody was listening to me.

  I said, “Please trust me, Amy. I can’t have that transit lady reporting me. I’m in trouble. My kid sister’s life is…” Is at stake, I was going to say, but it sounded too corny for belief. Instead I just shook my head. The whole thing should have been beyond belief. Except that it was real, it was happening. It was a nightmare that plowed on and on and wouldn’t stop.

  My face must have reflected my misery, because Amy said in alarm, “It’s okay, Joe. I—I won’t say anything.”

  I managed a crooked grin of thanks. She sure had dark eyes—like lake water at midnight. When she smiled, lights appeared in them.

  I wondered what there’d been between her and Skip. They’d hung out together a lot those last couple of weeks at school.

  As if reading my thoughts, Amy said, “I guess Skip’s left for the Okanagan. I was hoping he’d call me first, but…”

  She likes him, all right, I thought. I wiped my forehead with the back of my arm. “Yeah, so?” I said, kind of rudely. It was always Skip with girls.

  Amy’s cheeks turned pink. “I wanted to talk to him. About an essay.”

  “You brainiacs,” I said. “Guess you like to stick together, huh? Compare A’s?”

  She looked down at the purse in her lap.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m just kind of preoccupied. So…you work at Herbie’s. What’s that like?”

  “In this weather? Hot and smelly.”

  I laughed. There was a plastic container attached to the bus wall, with pamphlets about bus routes and stuff. I took one out, waved it a few times and gave it to her.

  “Here,” I said. “Instant fan.”

  I walked Amy toward Herbie’s Red Hots. It was past the roller coaster, near the Farm Country building, with sheep, cows and other animals of the Old MacDonald variety. The occasional moo and baa floated out. They reminded me of Babs Beesley and the braying sound she’d made.

  And of her buddy, the guy with the baseball cap. I clenched my fists in my pockets.

  I’d told Amy about Babs. I’d told her about Ellie getting kidnapped and Baseball Cap demanding the Margaret rose as ransom.

  I hadn’t shared the where and when of the exchange though. I didn’t want Amy to turn noble and insist on coming along. I had to do this on my own.

  Across from Herbie’s was the Community Police Center, a small white clapboard building. I stopped. “Maybe I better leave you here,” I said.

  Amy nodded. Frowning, she fiddled with the strap of her purse. Then she blurted, “That old guy who was shot—Jake something…”

  “Jake Grissom.”

  “Yeah. Well, the other day I saw him with someone. A friend, I think, because they were talking really intently.”

  A policewoman came out of the Community Police Center and surveyed the fairgrounds. She was just catching a few rays, maybe…or maybe not.

  I took Amy’s elbow and guided her around another building, the Horror House of Mirrors. There was a long lineup. We swerved to the other side of the line, out of the policewoman’s view.

  “Jake’s friend,” I said. “Was it a stocky woman? Or a guy wearing a baseball cap?”

  “No,” said Amy, her dark eyes troubled. “Nobody like that. It was her.”

  And she pointed past the Horror House of Mirrors lineup—to the policewoman.

  The Horror House of Mirrors line shifted past us. To avoid standing out, Amy and I joined the end of the line. Screams, creepy organ music and villainous laughs blasted out at us.

  According to the Horror House sign, once you got inside, you’d be too confused to escape. You’d be creeped out and disoriented by the strobe lights, mirrors and sound effects. Not to mention the cold water and fake spiders that got tossed at you.

  The policewoman, still surveying the fairgrounds, pulled out a cell phone and started gabbing into it. Maybe someone had reported seeing me, and she was keeping a lookout. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

  I turned my back to her. I said to Amy, “If Jake was talking to the police, he could’ve been snitching on his buddies.”

  “His buddies…Babs and the guy with the baseball cap,” Amy whispered back, nodding. “What you’re saying is, they killed Jake to silence him.”

  “And all over a plant.” I told her about the Margaret rose.

  “Unbelievable,” Amy commented. “I have a cousin who’s fanatical about stamps, but flowers…?”

  She checked her watch. “I g
otta get to work, Joe.” Her eyes fixed on my face anxiously. “I don’t like to leave you.”

  I thought how nice she was. Skip was a fool not to call her. If a girl like that liked me…

  But she didn’t. “I’ll be okay,” I told her. “Thanks for your concern, but just forget about all this. It’s not your problem.”

  We’d reached the entrance to the Horror House of Mirrors. Amy hesitated, uncertain. Without saying any more, I paid the attendant and pushed through. Amy turned and walked slowly away.

  Good one, Joe. Trample on the girl’s feelings. I felt rotten. I was tempted to chase after Amy and apologize.

  There was a tap on my shoulder. “Amy,” I said in relief and spun round.

  But it wasn’t Amy.

  It was the guy in the baseball cap.

  Chapter Seven

  Baseball Cap shot out a hand to clamp my wrist. A smile flickered over his lips. The smile scared me more than his lean mean expression had.

  But I had the advantage of knowing who he was. I dodged behind a tall statue of a screaming woman. I didn’t think Baseball Cap would want to attract attention by knocking the statue down to reach me.

  In a breath heavy with the stench of cigarettes, he said, “Just thought we should check in with each other, Joe. About the Margaret rose.”

  “Boo-waaahhh-ha-ha!” squealed the canned laughter from the Horror House.

  “With your personality, you must feel right at home here,” I told Baseball Cap. “And yeah, we understand each other. You bring Ellie, I bring the rose.”

  “You got the rose now?” He stuck his face close to mine. His breath could’ve been used as a fumigator.

  Ahead of us, attendants opened double doors. White strobe lights poured out. One lit up Baseball Cap’s face, accentuating his close-set eyes and his thin lips pulled over his yellow teeth in that smile.

  “C’mon in, everyone,” boomed a deep voice. “If you dare…Boo-waaahhh-ha-ha!”

  I shoved the statue at Baseball Cap. He staggered back a few steps, the painted woman in his arms as if they were dancing.

  Throwing the statue down, he reached into his breast pocket. That side of his jacket stuck out more than the other side. Which meant…