She shot a ball into the dummy’s chest.
“It’s teenagers. We’ve been told they’re all girls. We’ve been told they’re all guys. There are anywhere from three to fifty of them, depending on which victim you listen to. The leader is Satan replete with horns and tail, a gorgeous blonde, Mayor Donaldson, a giant black guy, Charles Manson’s twin brother, Zarch from the Sixth Dimension…”
“I get the point,” Harold said.
Joan missed the dummy.
“Ignorant, self-righteous bitch.”
Her last ball struck the dummy in the face.
Harold put a hand on her shoulder. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“Who’s upset?”
“Gloria’s only doing her job.”
“And we’re doing ours, but she conveniently forgets to point that out.”
They wandered into the stream of the moving crowd.
“Want to try the bumper cars?” she asked.
“In your mood, you’d probably hurt someone.”
“My mood’s fine,” she muttered.
“Step right in, folks!”
She glanced at Jasper Dunn. The cadaverous old man leered at her. She quickened her pace.
“Don’t rush off, Miss Cop. Step right in, you and your handsome beau, and see the amazing, astonishing wonders of Jasper’s Oddities. Lead her this way, fellow. Right this way. Don’t miss out. See the two-headed baby, the hairless orangutan of Borneo, the mummy Ram Cho-tep, and other rare and mysterious wonders. She’ll quiver and shake at the sights. She’ll swoon in your arms.”
She kept walking.
“I take it,” said Harold, “you’re not interested in Jasper’s Oddities?”
“That guy’s swamp scum.”
“Has he done something to you?”
“Just with his eyes. Every time I walk by…Fortunately, he spends most of his time inside with his Oddities. Sometimes I go a whole shift without seeing him. He likes to go in and watch the reactions. And ogle the females.”
“Enjoys watching them quiver and shake,” Harold said. “Have you ever gone in?”
“Just once. Some gal had fainted.”
“Those Oddities must be something to see.”
“I think it was the heat. She was on the floor and her skirt was hiked up around her waist and Dunn was on his knees. I’m not saying he fooled with her or anything, but he sure looked startled when the boyfriend towed us in there.”
She stopped and looked back. A couple of teenage guys with their dates were climbing the stairs, giving tickets to Dunn. One of the girls was husky, but the other was slender and wore a halter top and white shorts. “Watch,” Joan said. “He’ll follow them in. Goddamn lech.”
Dunn followed them through the doorway.
“I wish the creep would dry up and blow away. He’s the guy that owns the Funhouse, you know.” Joan nodded toward the two-story building that stood adjacent to the Oddities. The dark neon sign above its front door, visible in the glow of nearby lights, read, “Jasper’s Funhouse.” All the windows were boarded with sheets of plywood. “I’ve heard he had a grating in one of its corridors. On the floor. And he used to hide under there and look up the skirts of the women when they walked across it.”
“Charming fellow. Is that why it’s closed?”
Joan shook her head. “A couple of his freaks got loose in it one night. He used to have a freak show. In there with his Oddities. Some pretty hideous…people. That’s what I hear. A couple of them got into the Funhouse. This was five or six years ago, I guess. I was still at Stanford. Dave told me about it. He said they jumped a little girl and her grandmother.”
“Terrible,” Harold muttered.
“The old woman keeled over with a heart attack.”
“What about the girl?”
“She wasn’t hurt. Some sailors came to the rescue. But the grandmother died. Dunn was forced to shut down his freak show. Then he couldn’t afford the liability insurance to keep his Funhouse going, so he closed it. He still owns it, though. Nobody can get him to tear it down.”
“Maybe he wants to reopen it someday.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised. He doesn’t have a grate on the floor of the Oddities place.”
Harold looked at the abandoned Funhouse and shook his head. “I might’ve enjoyed that,” he said.
“Right. That’s a real shame. The one attraction on the entire boardwalk that you might’ve enjoyed, and it isn’t open.”
“No, I mean it. When I was a kid, I used to go to Riverview in Chicago. I guess Riverview’s long gone now. But they had a funhouse called Aladdin’s Castle. Or was it Palace? I don’t recall. But I used to love it.”
“Gee, there is hope for you.” She took hold of his arm, and they strolled on. “So, you used to enjoy amusement parks. In your callow youth.”
“Before I became a stick-in-the-mud.”
Joan smiled. “Tell me more about your prestick days.”
“I was always too timid for my own good.”
She squeezed his arm, said, “Just a minute,” then smiled and raised her other hand in greeting. “Hiya, Jim, Beth.”
The two officers walked over to them. Jim looked at her legs.
“Don’t you see enough of this place during the day?” Beth asked.
“Dave won’t let me ride the Hurricane.”
“Just lets you climb on it,” Jim said.
She introduced them to Harold. He shook hands with them.
“Be careful with her, Harry,” Jim said.
“Is she fragile?”
“She’s got a black belt.”
“And I’m not above hitting people with it,” Joan said.
“Don’t let her cuff you to the bed. Once she’s got you helpless, out comes the belt.”
“Are you speaking from personal experience?” Harold asked him.
“In his dreams,” Joan said.
Beth nudged Jim with her elbow. “Come on, Casanova. Nice meeting you, Harold.”
“Yeah,” Jim said. He slapped Harold’s arm. “Got one word of advice for you, Harry. Go for it.”
Harold grinned and nodded.
“That was three words, dipstick,” Joan said.
“But who’s counting?”
He and Beth ambled away. Before they vanished into the crowd, Joan saw them look at each other and start talking. No doubt discussing her boyfriend. Jim, for one, would not be voicing approval.
“Interesting fellow,” Harold said.
“Rarely.”
At least Jim goes for it, Joan thought. You may not want him to go for it, you may have to inflict some pain to stop him, but he’s interested enough to make the try.
“Is it true that you have a black belt?”
“I have a black garter belt.”
“Would you like some cotton candy?”
“Sure. That’d be great.”
What does it take to get a rise out of him? she wondered.
He bought a cotton candy for Joan, nothing for himself. She tore off a puffy wad with her teeth, drew it into her mouth, and felt it dissolve before she had much chance to chew it.
“So at that Riverview place,” she said, “what did you like besides Aladdin’s Castle? The roller coaster?”
“They couldn’t drag me onto the Bobs. Or the parachute drop. As I said, I was timid.”
“How about the Ferris wheel?”
“I wouldn’t go near it.”
“How about the Ferris wheel right now?”
“Oh, I don’t think so.”
“I do.” The sign by its gate showed that five tickets were needed. She headed for a nearby ticket booth, Harold hurrying after her.
“Joan, I’m not going on that thing.”
She stepped into line. “Hold this,” she said, and handed the cotton candy to him. “Try it, you’ll like it.” He looked warily at the confection. He shook his head. Joan took the wallet out of her shoulder bag and removed a ten-dollar bill.
“If you th
ink you’re going to get me onto that death-trap contraption…”
“My friend, everyone is afraid of heights.”
“This from the lady who scaled the Hurricane.”
“I was scared shitless. But I did it anyway, because it had to be done. And you’re going to ride the Ferris wheel for the same reason.”
“It does not have to be done.”
“Oh, yes it does.” She bought ten tickets and received five dollars in change.
Harold followed her to the line for the Ferris wheel. He had a nervous smile on his face as he handed the cotton candy to her. “You don’t honestly expect me to go through with this?”
“You’ll like it. I promise.”
“I won’t like it, because I won’t do it.”
“I’ve already bought the tickets.”
“You may ride it twice. I’ll stay right here, safe on the ground, and wait patiently.”
She looked him in the eye. “I want you to go on it with me, Harold. Just the Ferris wheel. I won’t ask you to try the Hurricane or the parachute drop or anything else. Just this one ride. It won’t kill you.”
“That’s because I won’t be on it.”
“Harold, please.”
Now the nervous smile was gone. Replaced by a frown of annoyance. “I don’t understand why you insist on being so adamant about this. For heaven’s sake, it’s just a carnival ride. It’s hardly worth bickering about. It won’t make one whit of difference, in the scheme of things, whether or not I go on the stupid thing.”
“It makes a big difference to me,” Joan said.
“Oh, I have to prove I’m a man, is that it? Is this some kind of a test?”
“It didn’t start out that way,” Joan told him.
“I’ll ride the damn thing if it’ll make you happy.”
“Good,” she muttered. She turned away from him. She took a bite of the cotton candy and it melted away in her mouth and she felt like crying.
The Ferris wheel was still going full speed, its lighted spokes spinning, cars rocking, riders squealing as they were swept down from the staggering height. Some of them, she saw, were embracing. She tossed her cotton candy into a trash bin.
“I said I’ll do it.” He sounded petulant.
“I heard you.”
“So what are you pouting about?” he asked.
“This was supposed to be fun.”
“I’m sorry.” He didn’t sound sorry at all. “I guess I’m just not a very fun guy. Maybe you should’ve come here with one of your macho cop friends. I’m sure Dave would be delighted to ride the goddamn Ferris wheel.”
“He wouldn’t whine about it.”
“Now I’m a whiner. Isn’t that wonderful.”
“Not especially.”
“Christ.”
“You’ve never touched me, Harold.”
His mouth fell open.
“Joan, for Christsake.” He glanced around as if fearful that someone might be listening. But the others waiting in line were talking among themselves. The air was thick with laughter and screams, the spiels of pitchmen, the crackle of gunfire from the shooting gallery, hurdy-gurdy music from the Ferris wheel.
He didn’t need to worry about eavesdroppers.
“Is it me?” Joan asked. “Is something wrong with me?”
“No, of course not.”
“Then what is it? We’ve been going together for weeks. We hold hands and kiss good night—I kiss you good night. And that’s it.”
“I thought you preferred it that way.”
“Then you don’t know much about—”
“Move it along, folks.”
Harold stiffened.
Joan saw that the line had moved forward, that their turn had come to board the Ferris wheel.
“We don’t have to do it,” she said.
But he shook his head and went through the gate. The man took the tickets from Joan. They stepped onto a platform and climbed into the waiting gondola of the Ferris wheel. It rocked gently as they sat down. The man swung a metal safety bar across the front and latched it secure.
With a jerk that made the basket tip, the wheel carried them upward. It stopped, and the next passengers boarded.
Harold was clutching the safety bar with both hands.
Joan put a hand on his thigh. He looked at her. He gasped as they were suddenly lifted higher.
“There’s nothing to be afraid of,” Joan said. “The Ferris wheel’s safe. So am I.”
“Sure,” he muttered.
The wheel abruptly lifted them once more. Harold squeezed his eyes shut. He sat there gripping the bar, feet planted on the floor panel, back rigid, eyes tightly shut, teeth gritted.
Joan patted his thigh. “Loosen up, would you? You’re making me nervous.”
“I’m sorry.” He managed to say it without moving his jaw.
“Hey, you’re not going to capsize us if you open your mouth.”
He sucked in a quick breath as the wheel moved again. When it stopped, they were near the top.
They were damn high.
Joan felt as if her insides had been left at the previous level.
“Jesus,” she muttered.
The boardwalk was way down there.
If this damn thing tips over…
“I’m not the kind of man,” Harold said, “who has a woman like you.”
“Self-fulfilling prof…Uh!” She grabbed the safety bar with both hands.
When the wheel stopped, they were at the very top. Their gondola swayed back and forth.
She realized that this position, though higher than the previous one, was considerably less unnerving.
Because, at the pinnacle of the Ferris wheel, the ground was out of sight. She could see the distant wooded hills of the coastline range, and the headlights of cars on the highway, but nothing of the boardwalk.
Nothing directly below.
Nothing of what she would land on if the contraption fell apart or tipped over.
Not without leaning forward or sideways and peering down.
They started down and she could see the boardwalk again. To avoid the view, she turned her head and looked at Harold. He still sat rigid with his eyes shut.
The man, she thought, is a coward.
I’m scared too, she reminded herself.
But not like that.
And she realized that she had learned nothing new here tonight. She had confirmed her suspicions, nothing more. Maybe that was why she had brought him here—to take him out of his safe academic world and…put him on trial. Not a conscious plan, certainly. But maybe in the back of her mind that was why she’d insisted they skip the film and come to Funland.
The Ferris wheel moved, dropping them lower. This time it didn’t stop after a few feet. It swept them down close to the ground and lifted them toward the heights, and Joan’s fear slipped away. They flew over the crest and swung downward.
This is all right, she thought. Just takes some getting used to.
I just take some getting used to.
Get him into bed just once, he’ll be fine.
Right. Fine. That little piece of him will be fine, the little piece that’s scared of me. But what about the rest of him?
She knew that she would never be able to count on him, lean on him, be comforted by his strength. She would have to be the strong one, the leader.
More like his mother than his lover.
I don’t need that.
Soon the Ferris wheel stopped. They were gradually lowered toward the ground. Not until the attendant stepped up to their gondola did Harold release his grip on the safety bar. They climbed down.
On the boardwalk, Joan said, “You can take me home now.”
“You’re upset with me,” he said.
“No. It’s all right.”
“I rode the damn ride.”
“I know. That was very brave.”
“About the other thing…”
“That’s all right,” Joan said. “I understand.
”
She took his hand. They walked out of Funland and into the parking lot, and he opened the door of his car for her. She leaned across the seat and unlocked the driver’s door. He climbed in without looking at her.
He drove out of the parking lot.
“I knew we should’ve gone to Macbeth,” he said.
Joan said nothing.
“Would you like to stop someplace for a nightcap?”
“No, thanks. I don’t think so. I’m not feeling very well. Just take me home.”
“We really should discuss…”
“Some other time, okay?”
“Fine.”
When he reached her house, he swung to the curb and killed the engine and turned to her. “I’ll go in with you,” he said. In the dim light from the streetlamps, she saw a nervous smile on his face.
“Not tonight,” she said. “I really don’t feel very well.”
“Joan, please.”
“I’ll give you a call.” She patted his knee, sensed that he was about to reach for her wrist, and quickly pulled her hand back. She swung the door open.
“Don’t be this way. Please.”
“It’s all right,” she told him. “I’ll give you a call.”
She climbed from the car, shut the door, and hurried up the walkway to her house.
Eight
Robin woke up, and couldn’t believe that the movie was over. She had come into the theater a little late and missed the start of the new James Bond, so after watching the film, she had waited through the intermission and looked at the opening. She’d planned to leave when it came to a familiar scene.
So much for plans.
Apparently she’d drifted off and slept through the rest of the showing. Now the auditorium lights were on and people were leaving their seats.
She was glad nobody had ripped her off.
One arm was still hooked through the shoulder strap of her pack, a precaution she must’ve taken before dropping off. The banjo case still stood on the floor, propped up between her legs.
She moved the case aside, stood up, and swung the pack onto her back. Lifting the case, she sidestepped across the deserted row to the aisle.
On her way out, she stopped in the rest room. Nobody was around when she left the toilet stall. She took a few minutes to wash her face and brush her teeth.