He pulled his eyebrows into a frowny face. “I’ll have you know my lack of PlaySkool toys from ages seven to nine has scarred me for life. Did you know one Christmas I actually had to settle for a deluxe double upside-down loop racing set from Tyco?”
“I’m amazed you haven’t blown up an entire chain of toy stores by now. Come on, let’s get outta here.”
“You’re leaving?” Cassandra and Bergman chorused, their soprano (him) and tenor (her) combining to provide our listening ears with a lovely harmony of trepidation and outright alarm.
“Yes,” I said, “although I prefer to think of it as escaping. If you two kill each other before we get back, make sure you leave written—and by that I mean printed, not cursive—directions on how to use your gadgets.”
I didn’t actually run out the door, but it was definitely one of my quicker exits. Caught by surprise, Cole couldn’t keep up with me and was forced to dodge a barrage of demands and requests before finally rejoining me on the outside.
“I like those two,” Cole offered, “but only when they’re apart.”
“I agree.”
“Together they’re like spilled oil and Alaskan sea creatures.”
“Well, for our sakes I hope they find a way to mesh. Otherwise, I think, eventually, one of them will have to go.”
Cole put his fingers to the corners of his lips and pulled them down.
“Would you cut that out!”
He shrugged, as if at a loss as to understand my lack of humor. “So where are
“To find the Xias.” At this time of day we should have been able to catch them at home, since Shao was between shows and, I kinda thought, they were expecting us.
We wandered the area, smiling at the people we saw, hoping we’d find the Xias before we had to stop somebody and ask for them by name. Then I had an inspiration. I grabbed Cole by the hand and dragged him back toward the path, where a row of game booths had just opened up for business.
“You played baseball as a kid, right?” I asked him.
“Of course.”
“And your dad coached the team?”
“Yeah,” he said with a curious, how-on-earth-did-you-know tone. Did I really look that stupid?
“So you were the pitcher.”
“I was the only kid who could get it across the plate without bouncing it first.” Slight defensive tone now.
I pushed him up to the counter of a place designed to look like a dugout. At the back, bowling pins had been set up on four different tables. The more you knocked down, the cooler the prize. I directed Cole’s attention to a little brown bear sitting on a shelf. Cost—ten pins. “That’s the one I want.”
The proprietor of the establishment, a fifty-something gentleman missing at least four teeth whose greasy brown hair framed his sad, skeletal face came forward to take my five bucks. I held on to my end, forcing him to meet my eyes.
“Tell you what,” I said. “I’m a cop, but I’m here to have a good time. So I don’t really want to check to make sure you’re running a straight game. What do you say you take a stroll to the back there and do that for me before we begin?” I let my eyes tell him exactly what I’d do to him if I discovered he was trying to cheat me, and he released that bill like I’d coated it with ricin. He kept his back to us as he fiddled with the middle game table. I saw his hands go to the mini apron tied around his bony hips; then he turned and looked at Cole.
“Ready to play?”
Cole smirked. “Always.”
Three throws later I had my bear and we were headed back to trailer city. We only had to stop a couple of people and explain that a baby whose parents were acrobats had left the bear in our tent during our show the night before. One guy couldn’t speak English. The other pointed us straight to the Xias’ trailer.
Shao answered the door. He wore a white T-shirt and loose black pants that tied at the waist. His hair stood on end, as if he’d been running his hands through it repeatedly. His eyes were puffy and red.
But she came to the door next, laying her hand on his shoulder. The cords in his neck and shoulders immediately relaxed.
I held out the bear. “Your baby left this in our tent last night. We wanted to return it because we thought he might have a hard time sleeping without it.” I smiled, hoping they’d catch on. They did. All too quickly.
Shao bowed deeply. “Thank you. Thank you. Please to come in?”
I glanced at Cole. “Sure, I guess we have a minute.”
I’d describe the design scheme for the Xias’ camper as Early Toddler. Otherwise a clean, dust-free environment, the place was artfully strewn with balls, rattles, Sesame Street puppets, and teething rings. Ge went to clean up the interior decorator while Shao showed us to a rust-colored love seat that sank nearly to the floor when we sat on it. As soon as I managed to remove my knees from my throat I said, “I spoke to your brother just now.”
Shao’s face puckered. He dropped into a chair next to us. “My brother is no more.”
