“I heard you pop the top on Mrs. C.”
Again with the innocent act, complete with eyelash fluttering this time.
“I thought we had a plan,” I hissed. “Remember the soda cup? Small World?”
Millie leaned in, joining in our whispered conversation. “Hattie loved this ride. I think she’d like a little of her to be here, too.”
“Do not, I repeat,
“Relax,” Aunt Millie told me. Which was so impossible at this point that it was almost laughable. “It’s dark. Who’s gonna see us?”
Cal had been silently listening to the exchange until now, but he leaned forward, poking Millie in the shoulder. Then pointed up to a skeleton head mounted on the ceiling with red, glowing eyes.
“Security cameras,” he explained.
Aunt Sue guiltily clutched her tote bag closed.
“This whole place is wired. You’re being watched by at least two security guards at all times on this ride.”
I looked up at the glowing eyes. “How can you tell?”
“Trust me. I know security. You’re being watched.” He pointed to a particularly shiny jewel in a pile of pirate booty. “There’s another one.”
I squinted at it, half thinking he might be bluffing. Not that I was going to call him out. If it kept the aunts from tossing Mrs. C.’s remains overboard, I was all for it.
We made it through the rest of the ride without incident (unless you counted the kid in back of me whimpering as we passed through the burned-out pirate town-which, I didn’t) and exited back into the blinding sunshine of day.
“Not to put a damper on anyone’s plans,” I said, navigating the streets of New Orleans Square back to the main thoroughfare, “but if Pirates has security cameras, doesn’t it stand to reason that Small World will, too?”
“One step ahead of you, peanut,” Aunt Sue responded.
“We already checked.”
I narrowed my eyes at her. “How did you check?”
“Hidden Mickeys dot org,” Millie piped up.
“Hidden what?”
“Hidden Mickeys. See, Walt Disney had a bunch of likenesses of Mickey Mouse hidden all over the park, and it’s a game people play to try to find them all.”
I gave her a blank stare.
“Anyway,” she said, waving me off, “this website is the foremost authority on all things Disneyland. We checked. There are no security cameras, lasers, or any other sort of devices inside the Small World ride.”
“Apparently singing dolls don’t make people frisky the way pirates do,” Aunt Sue said, elbowing me in the ribs and waggling her painted on eyebrows up and down.
“There is a rumor,” Aunt Millie went on, “that there’s some sort of guard tower hidden in the ride, and employees can watch you from up there, but it’s unsubstantiated. And besides, it’s gotta be a real pain to climb down from it. I’m thinking no one’s gonna bother for a couple of old broads dumping their Coke into the water, right?”
For all our sakes, I hoped so.
“Great. Fine. Dandy. Let’s go ride Small World then.”
“You think I could get a pair of those mouse ears while we’re here?” Aunt Sue asked, watching a little girl in pink ones walk past. “I want my name embroidered on the back in gold.”
“I’m hungry,” Aunt Millie said, eyeing the Bengal Barbecue down the walkway.
I looked from her three-inch bifocals to the restaurant. “How can you even see that? It’s like fifty yards away?”
She gave me a blank stare.
“No, no stops. We’re on a mission,” I said, shaking my head.
“But I’m hungry,” she moaned. “My doctor says I have to be very careful about keeping my blood sugar levels even.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “And Sue has to take her heart medication. She can’t do that on an empty stomach.” Millie’s magnified eyes blinked innocently up at me.
I threw my hands up. “Fine! We’ll go eat.”
“Oh,” Aunt Sue piped up, “and after we eat, can we get mouse ears? I’d love some with my name embroidered in gold.”
I thought I heard Cal snicker behind me, but he had the good sense to put a poker face in place by the time I turned around.
Reluctantly, I led the gruesome twosome to the barbecue and ordered them both chicken on a stick and pineapple coolers. By the time they’d finished the last of their meals, the crowds were beginning to pick up-families in every shape and size wearing sneakers, cargo shorts, and pasty white legs that had yet to see the California sunshine walked past. Mixed in with packs of teenagers, honeymooning couples, and groups of overseas tourists that snapped photos of anything that stood still.
I didn’t like it.
The more people who jammed the walkways, the smaller my chances of spotting my stalker before he spotted me. The crowd made me feel antsy, exposed. And I was more anxious than ever to get this done and get out of here. Preferably back to somewhere Cal could carry his gun again.
I could tell Cal felt the same way. During the meal he barely spoke a word, his body rigid as if ready to jump at the slightest provocation, his eyes relentlessly scanning the crowd. Which should have made me feel better, but the tenser he got, the tenser I got. And the more I just wanted to get the hell out of there.
“There,” I said, pointing to a vendor’s booth, as the aunts wiped their fingers on a paper napkin. “Soda bottles. Let’s go.” I jumped in line and purchased a large, plastic souvenir Buzz Light-year soda bottle with a sparkly purple shoulder strap and handed it to Aunt Sue.
“Go put Mrs. C. in this,” I told her.
Aunt Sue gave the bottle a once over. “I’m not sure Hattie was a
“Just do it!” I shouted, my nerves frazzled to their breaking point.
Luckily, Aunt Sue recognized a woman on the edge when she saw one and scuttled off to the ladies’ room to transfer our passenger. Ten minutes later she came out, the bottle slung over her shoulder and a grin of triumph on her face.
I glanced down at Buzz Lightyear. “She in there?”
Aunt Sue nodded and gave me a wink.
“Good. Let’s get this over with,” I said, leading the way toward the Small World castle.
“Oh, look!” Aunt Millie said as we exited Adventure Land, “The Enchanted Tiki Room. Can we-”
“Not on your life,” I yelled, cutting her off.
She snapped her mouth shut. “Killjoy.”
I ignored her, instead navigating around a line of kids waiting to have their picture taken with Cinderella, and skirted the Sleeping Beauty Castle, pressing through Fantasyland, which, at this time of day, was bumper to bumper strollers. I pushed my way through, only getting dinged in the heel twice. We reached the Small World ride just as the big moon-face guy and cuckoo clock people with their drums and cymbals were chiming the hour.
We hopped in line, winding our way through a maze of ropes and shrubbery trimmed to look like zoo animals until we reached our boats.
The last time I’d been here the ride had been shut down for refurbishment. When I’d asked why, I was told that they had to dig a deeper moat. When Walt Disney had first opened the ride, it was built to accommodate six average-sized men. Well, the size of your average American has almost doubled since then, and the weight of our fatter selves meant that the boats frequently bottomed out, getting stuck along the narrow canals. Every time this happened, the ride had to be shut down and the larger persons had to be escorted off the ride in a flurry of apologies and embarrassment. Consequently, the ride had been shut down to outfit it with deeper canals and new boats that were designed to hold guests of every size.
