Donna Joy Usher - Chanel 02 - Goons 'n' Roses (15 page)

Martine and I were sitting in her hotel room, to-ing and fro-ing with different ideas. ‘We have to go to the police,’ I said. ‘There’s no other option.’

There were other options, but none of them were good. All of them included Martine and my single-handedly busting into The Big Blue to save Mum. Considering our track record to date I couldn’t see us pulling that one off.

‘What about what Trent said?’

‘We don’t have much time. I think it’s a risk we’re going to have to take.’ The Big Blue would be closing in an hour. One of the barmaids had told me it normally took them another forty-five minutes for the staff to finish cleaning and exit the premises. That gave us at least an hour and forty-five minutes till Mum showed up.

We caught a cab to the nearest police station.

‘I was wondering why the cab driver wished us luck,’ Martine said as we stared at the crowded room.

The chairs that lined the walls were full. I was guessing by the fact that the patrons were hand-cuffed to the chairs that they wouldn’t be going anywhere for a while. Some of them appeared to have been in fights and others were rambling in the non-cohesive fashion caused by drugs or alcohol.

We approached the desk and waited for the short policewoman to look up from the computer.

‘Take a number,’ she said without looking up.

I looked around and noticed a machine near the entrance that dispensed tickets. Most of the people in the chairs were holding a small square of paper in one hand, which I was guessing was the ticket. If we had to wait for all of these people to be processed it would be too late to save Mum.

I cleared my throat, until the woman looked up at me. I was guessing by the look on her face that she wasn’t that happy about it. ‘I want to report a kidnapping,’ I said.

The look on her face changed from I’m-going-to-jump-over-that-desk-and-whoop-your-arse to mildly interested.

‘A kidnapping huh?’ she said. ‘And when exactly did this occur?’

‘Some time tonight. No, wait it first happened two days ago, but then she escaped and now she’s been recaptured.’

The look on her face had hardened. ‘You know that don’t make any kind of sense.’

‘I know, I’m sorry. Is there anybody here we can talk to about it?’

‘You saying I’m not a person?’ She put her hands on her voluptuous hips and twitched her head from side-to-side.

‘Of course not. I meant somebody not as busy as you.’

‘Do you think all these dumb-arses would be handcuffed to chairs if there was somebody here not busy?’

Oh boy, this
really
wasn’t going well.

‘Please,’ I said, tears starting to well in my eyes, ‘they’ve got my mother.’

She stared at me for a few seconds and then let out a big huff of air. ‘Fine. I’ll see if Sergeant Turner will talk to you.’

‘Umm,’ I said, ‘this Sergeant Turner. Is he a few inches taller than me with strawberry blonde hair?’

‘That’s the one.’ She picked up the phone and dialled a number. ‘Got a couple of women here wanting to report a kidnapping.’ She listened for a few seconds and then hung up the phone and said, ‘he’ll be out in a mo.’

‘Thanks, we’ll wait over there,’ I said.

‘By the door,’ Martine added.

We hustled back to the door and waited till the woman’s focus was fixed firmly on her notes. As soon as it was, I pulled open the door and Martine and I dashed out into the night.

‘What are we going to do?’ she said.

‘You’re gunna get in the car, that’s what.’

I swung towards the gravelly voice and a tall man, holding a small handgun, stepped around the side of the police station. He was wearing a red suit with white and yellow polka dots and a fake nose. His shoes farted as he walked towards us.

‘You have
got
to be joking,’ Martine said, staring him up and down.

‘I might be joking but he’s not.’ He nodded in the opposite direction.

We swivelled our heads till we could see the orangutan standing by a small, yellow and red VW. He was holding an uzi.

‘Why does he get the bigger gun?’ I asked.

The man shrugged his shoulders and said, ‘He’s the better shot.’

‘If you think we’re coming with you then you are…’ I was about to say ‘sorely mistaken,’ but I happened to glance through the window into the police station. Sergeant Turner was talking to the lady on the front desk and she was pointing in our direction. I grabbed Martine’s arm and said, ‘absolutely right. Come on let’s go.’

Martine looked at me and I mouthed, ‘Sergeant Turner,’ at her.

‘Hip hop,’ she said, ‘let’s not dither,’ and we raced the clown to his car.

It’s a sad state of affairs when an orangutan holding an uzi appears to be the safest option.

***

Martine and I squashed into the back of the brightly coloured car and waited for the clown and the ape to get in.

‘How fast can this baby go?’ I was watching the front door of the police station nervously.

‘Fast enough,’ the clown said in his raspy voice. He turned the ignition key and the car back-fired and crawled away from the curb.

‘Where are we going?’ Martine asked. The car was shaking from side-to-side and her voice vibrated in time to the movement.

I couldn’t help it. I started to giggle.

‘Ya think this is funny?’ the clown said, gesturing his gun over his shoulder, but he leant forwards and hit a large orange button on the dash. The vibrating stopped immediately.

‘Is that the one that says bang?’ I asked him.

He looked across at the orangutan in disgust. ‘You fired it? What did I say about firing it?’

The orangutan put his hands over his ears and smacked his lips together a few times.

‘Don’t you go taking that attitude with me,’ the clown said.

‘I don’t mean to be rude,’ I said, looking at my watch. We only had one hour left till possible show time and Plan A had not come up trumps. ‘But we have no idea who you are. What do you want with us?’

‘Did you hear that Boo Boo? They steal my wig and damage your unicycle and they don’t know who we are.’ He turned slightly to look over his shoulder at me. ‘We’re the famous Crafty and Boo Boo.’ A piece of spit flew out of his mouth and landed on the inside of the passenger side window.

‘That was your unicycle?’ I said to Boo Boo.

He looked over his shoulder at me with his huge, soulful eyes and then his mouth stretched out into a wide grin.

‘He loved that unicycle,’ Crafty said.

‘I’m sorry we stole your wig,’ Martine said. ‘But we can give it back to you. Was it the yellow one or the red one?’

‘The yellow one.’ Crafty sounded sullen.

‘So let me get this straight,’ I said. ‘You’ve kidnapped us because we damaged your unicycle and stole your wig?’ Geez Louise. I’d hate to see what he did if we damaged his car.

Crafty shifted uncomfortably. ‘An eye for an eye, a wig for a wig.’

‘Yes but Boo Boo damaged
two
of my wigs. I bet my wigs cost more than yours. These are real human hair.’ Martine crossed her arms and stared at the back of Crafty’s head.

Boo Boo put his hands over his eyes and then peeked through his fingers at Martine. A small smile crept onto her face. It was impossible to be angry with the huge ape.

‘Well there was that,’ Crafty said. ‘And then there was the rumours that your show was betta than mine.’ He looked back at us again. ‘You gotta understand how that made me feel. I have a little car trouble and turn up to work late to find out two clowns went on instead of me and got a standing ovation.’

I started to laugh. ‘We got a standing ovation?’

‘Ya didn’t know?’

‘We were a little busy running away from the Russian Mafia,’ I said.

‘So ya
not
thinkin’ of takin’ up Circus Circus’s offer of a five year contract.’

Martine and I burst out laughing. ‘You clowns,’ I said, ‘you’re so funny.’

Crafty indicated right and pulled the car over to the side of the road. He pivoted in his seat and a foul smell wafted over us. Boo Boo put his hands over his face and blew a raspberry.

‘Sorry,’ Crafty said. ‘I get gassy when I’m emotional.’

‘No problems at all,’ Martine said, winding down her window.

‘I’ve been had,’ Crafty said, turning back to the front.

‘I think so,’ I replied.

Boo Boo reached a long arm over and touched Crafty’s shoulder. When Crafty didn’t respond, the orangutan clambered onto his lap and wrapped his long arms around him. He was too big for the space and his bottom jammed onto the horn. It let out a long flatulent sound and I struggled to restrain my mirth.

Another putrid wave of stench reached my nose and I wound down my window, gasping in the fresh air.

‘Sorry,’ Crafty said, wiping his arm across his face. ‘It’s the other clowns, they love winding me up.’

‘How did you know it was us?’ I asked.

‘There aren’t too many women in Las Vegas with only
one
orange arm.’

I had a sudden feeling that none of this would have happened if only I’d left my arm pasty white.

‘Perhaps you could drop us at our hotel so we can get your wig,’ Martine said.

‘That would be grand,’ Crafty started up the car again. ‘Now what was that you were saying about the Mafia?’

‘We were being chased by them.’

‘What on earth for?’

‘It’s a long story,’ I said. And then to my surprise I found myself telling it to him.

‘So you’re on your way to rescue your mother?’

‘Ahuh,’ I said, not feeling quite so positive that that was what we would end up doing.

‘We can help.’

‘I couldn’t allow it,’ I said.

‘I’ve got a lot of friends that would love to take some whoop-arse out on those Mafia scum.’

‘Thanks,’ I said, ‘but it’s bad enough that I’ve dragged Martine into this.’

‘Okay,’ he said, giving up with surprising ease.

Martine and I went up to the rooms and changed into our darkest, comfiest clothing. Then we took the wigs and the rest of the costumes back down to Crafty and Boo Boo.

When they had left we took a seat at the bar and ordered a drink. It looked like Martine and I were going in after Mum alone. I needed all the Dutch courage I could get.

‘What’s the plan?’ Martine asked.

‘We’re going to go in and get Mum out.’

‘Have you noticed that your plans lack any sort of detail?’

‘You got a more detailed one?’

‘Nope.’

The barman gave me a pen and some writing paper and I wrote a quick letter to Big H. I put a copy of the list I had gotten at The Big Blue into it and then asked at reception for an envelope and stamp. While I rang Big H, Martine went to the local store to try and rustle up some kind of weaponry.

He answered his phone on the third ring.

‘I think I know who runs the Mob,’ I said.

There was a small pause before he said, ‘Chanel?’

‘Oh sorry, yes.’

‘Let me guess. The same person who killed Lou the Brain.’

Damn. He was good. ‘I don’t know why you got out of the game.’

He laughed. ‘I don’t have the stomach for it. So who is it?’

‘Barney Stilton.’

‘That slimy creep that manages The Big Blue?’

‘The very same.’

‘Huh. I didn’t think he had the balls for it.’ There was a few seconds silence before he said, ‘You know how I said you had relatives in town?’

‘I don’t want to know.’ If I found out that I was related to Barney Stilton I was going to have to shoot myself.

‘But, it could be…’

‘Stop.’

‘I think you should…’

‘Zip. Please. I
really
don’t want to know.’ I was happy being the only child of an only child.

‘All right then, but I’m just saying…’

‘Big H!’

‘Sorry.’

‘I heard Barney talking on the phone,’ I continued, trying not to think about the fact that he could be my relative. ‘They’re taking Mum to The Big Blue tonight. I’m going to rescue her.’

‘What do you want me to do?’

‘Can you get us guns?’

He burst out laughing. ‘I told you, I’m out of the loop.’

‘Then nothing. But I’m sending you evidence of their involvement in the people smuggling racket they’ve been running with the Russian Mafia. Just in case…’ I didn’t finish the sentence. I didn’t want to think about the ‘just in case’.

There was a pause and then he said, ‘I’ll give it to my son. He’ll know what to do with it.’

***

Martine came back to the bar while I was talking.

‘How’d you go?’ I asked, when I’d finished.

She laid two box knives on the table.

‘Is that it?’ I’d been hoping for some kind of blunt instrument, or preferably a gun. I didn’t like the thought of using knives. The intimacy of the injury made me squeamish. The feel of the blade slicing them open, the thought of the blood that would flow… it reminded me of those girls who’d had their throats slit last year. And Lord knows I still had issues on that front.

‘At this time of night? You’re lucky they didn’t call the cops on me. I convinced the girl I had moved and need them for the unpacking.’ She added two tiny bum bags, a packet of batteries for my torch, and a bar of chocolate to the knives.

‘Is that to bribe the guards?’ I pointed at the chocolate.

‘If I’m to die tonight, I want to die knowing that the last thing I ate was a block of Hershey’s Cookies’n’Crème.’

I stared at her until she grinned and pulled a second bar out of her bag. She threw it at me, and I tore off the wrapper, inhaling the chocolatey scent.

I tried only to think about the deliciousness of the Hershey’s bar as we ate them. I didn’t want to think about being captured or killed, or being too late to save Mum. I was trying not to think about Trent. I got a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach whenever I did. The only reason I could think of for why he wasn’t here or with Mum was that something awful had happened to him. (I was trying not to think the word ‘dead’.)

Halfway through my chocolate I had a thought. ‘Hey, how come you call Mum Tess now?’

‘It’s her name.’

‘I know. But I would have thought out of habit you’d call her Lorraine.’

‘Lorraine never suited her,’ she said, around a mouthful of Hershey’s. ‘She’s a Tess through-and-through.’