Copenhagen Cozenage (5 page)

My pale blue dress was liberally coated with long black hairs and I sported a decidedly doggy aroma by the time we came in view of the exit. I clenched my teeth and yanked Leroy along. There were only two clean dresses left in my suitcase. In a few short hours, this maleficent mongrel had brought three of my lovingly purchased garments to ruin. I absolutely had to get this animal back to August before I had nothing left to wear.

A handsome young priest leaned against one of the pillars by the door, laughing at me. He pulled a phone out of his dark robes and snapped a picture of us wrestling in the holy edifice. Then he gave me a brisk little bow and held the door open as I hauled Leroy out. Really, a priest? Were we so innately hilarious that even men of the cloth would abandon love and good deeds for photos of our humiliations and cheap chortles at my expense? Apparently so. The priest stood in the door, his unrepentant grin so broad that a dimple showed on his cheek. He snapped another photo and disappeared within the hallowed halls of worship.

Leroy’s leash dangled from the pillar near my suitcases. As I gathered leash and luggage for the long trek across the brick pavement toward a taxi, I noticed that my phone was beeping. I’d gotten a message, from August.

I’m so sorry Morgan. You can’t believe what a terrible time I’ve had trying to track down Leroy. Just got your messages. The battery on my phone was dead. This phone is pretty unpredictable most of the time. Sorry, I’m rambling. Anyway, I’m at that old hotel my grandpa told me about. The Nimb Hotel and Restaurant. It’s in the Moorish Palace at Tivoli Gardens. There’s a fountain out front. I’ll meet you there in thirty minutes. Sorry again for all the trouble.

Finally, I’d gotten a break. I hailed a taxi.

The driver took one look at us, locked his doors, and sped off in a cloud of smoking rubber. Wow, genuine smoking rubber. I didn’t think that actually happened. My second attempt was just as successful. This cabbie wouldn’t even slow down. He grinned and shook his head, mouthing the word “no” quite clearly through the window. Apparently, cab drivers hung out together or shared radios or something. My previous drivers must have been regaling their buddies with tales of the cursed American and her hellhound.

I glowered down at Leroy. “Cerberus, of Greek mythological fame, probably had better manners than you. Look at them driving for their lives. I am holding you personally responsible.”

Leroy leaned against my leg and sneezed on my shoe.

It took ten minutes, but I managed to convince the next cabbie to take my money and allow Leroy into his pristine cab. I had to pay triple, but within a few minutes, Leroy, my pink luggage, and I were hastily deposited outside the massive Tivoli Garden gate.

Tivoli is really old. It’s the second oldest amusement park in the world. Tivoli’s entrance was an enormous stone archway. The park first opened in 1843 and the elaborate arch looked original. Each side was supported by immense clusters of pillars. Each cluster was composed of at least half a dozen single pillars. The stone was carved with elaborate decorations, strange patterns of shapes mingled with curls and vines and ribbons all across the ancient stone. Scales in gold, brown, and green decorated the peak and carved faces peered down from the overhang. Fat stone cherubs perched on the ledges of the arch, playing a fanfare on silent stone instruments as we walked by below.

I tied Leroy to a tree and slid into the nearest restroom to change. When my grandmother had gifted me with a three-day trip to Denmark, I promptly purchased five new dresses. Before this, I hadn’t bought myself a dress since participating in that apocalyptic event commonly referred to as a “Sixth Grade Dance.” Five dresses was an extravagant leap into the world of women’s fashion, but apparently, the expense had been insufficient. All I had left was a frilly yellow dress that I’d purchased for the actual brunch, a short red sundress, and my tattered jeans and Star Jumpers T-shirt.

I slid into the sun dress, wondering if it was perhaps a tiny bit too short for walking large dogs. I re-braided my hair at warp speed, put on my grandmother’s watch from the envelope, and slipped my feet into an adorable pair of beaded platform sandals that were just as tall as they were cute. This would be interesting. Still, my dog concerns would be over in about ten minutes. The little sundress should be able to survive at least that long.

Leroy was still tied to the tree when I emerged. He had gathered a crowd of small children who were feeding him peanuts, cotton candy, and what looked like the remains of four ice cream cones. Leroy nudged the cones aside with his nose and plunged right into the good stuff. His whole muzzle was coated with a sticky film of vanilla, strawberry, and something dark and fudgy.

Leroy’s fans were not eager to release him and much patting and kissing and photo taking was required before I could drag him away. One little girl was inconsolable until I raked my fingers through the thick fur around Leroy’s neck and pulled out a sizeable puff of soft fur. I then presented it to the sobbing preschooler. She stared down at the smelly wad of hair. I smiled and glanced back at her mother who was giving me the evil eye. “If you take this fur home, your Mommy can sew it onto an old sock. Then you will have your very own fuzzy puppy to snuggle with.” She clutched the fluff to her chest and beamed. Her mother was less thrilled.

Leroy and I exited the scene while the mother tried to exchange the precious puff of fur for three helium balloons and a doll baby that cried, drank from a little bottle, and peed on command. I knew this because despite my haste, Leroy didn’t cooperate. I was able to watch the mother go through the entire sales pitch for the doll the child tossed away.

I found a park employee and through a generous tip managed to convince him to bring my pink luggage to the Nimb hotel. It was a good thing my brunch, room, and return ticket were paid in full. At this rate, I would be heading home a pauper. Perhaps there was some Danish equivalent to boxed mac ‘n’ cheese that I could eat for the rest of my meals to save enough for coffee.

Tivoli teamed with people. Tourists and local families crowded through Tivoli’s elaborate arch for a day of fresh air and fun.

I glanced through the archway, watching the foot traffic wind past. Standing in the center of a thriving foreign city, I realized how very much I stood out. Even before I opened my mouth, it was apparent that I did not belong here.

Gazing into the Tivoli bathroom mirrors, I’d been sufficiently pleased by my appearance. Cute red dress, strappy sandals, a tiny bit of eye liner and a touch of lip gloss. This was Morgan all glammed up and ready to go. But I did not blend in. My build was too short, my clothes were too bright, and my face was too plain.

Tall, elegant women clad in black clacked past Tivoli in the street. It was as though a plane full of runway models had crashed and released all its passengers upon us in one vast wave of symmetry and grace. Yikes.

Cute I could do, elegant…not so much. Little did the populace of Copenhagen know how greatly I had improved for them. At least, I wasn’t in my jeans and geeky T-shirt.

I sighed and turned to find the path to my hotel. There were mobs of other tourists here in the park; I could blend in with them. I didn’t need to look like a Dane. I was a tourist, after all. I gritted my teeth and snatched up Leroy’s leash. It shouldn’t have bothered me, but I really had hoped to fit in. Denmark was supposed to be my big clue, that vital link to the void that was my past. But regardless of my lineage, I still didn’t belong.

I ignored the splendors of the park and went in the direction that the guy with my suitcases had gone. The winding paths were designed to provide one with a scenic stroll of the grounds, not a speedy rendezvous with an irresponsible dog owner. It took me awhile to get Leroy to our designated meeting place, but finally the Moorish style Palace of the Nimb hotel and restaurant came into view.

It gleamed white under the pale spring sun. An entire row of delicate arches graced the front, and a crenellated wall created a castle-like feel. Graceful spires and grand bulbs of pale green crowned the top of the building. It was as if I had walked onto the movie set for some grand desert epic.

Leroy was equally impressed. Not with the Moorish Palace, but with the multi-fountain pond nestled in the small garden out front. He froze, gazing at the water with an intense expression that should have given me pause. However, I was still captivated by the palace and paid him no heed.

Then he gave a small whine, looked once at me, and plunged forward with a strength I had never imagined dog-kind possessed.

In one swift motion, he yanked me straight off my feet and into the air. Time seemed to stop, and then I landed hard on my face in the grass.

Leroy dragged me across the lawn with inexplicable swiftness, and I struggled to free my hand from the leash I still clutched before he hit the concrete rim of the fountain. Tears stung my eyes and grass stained my dress, but Leroy kept galloping toward the water with no thought to my plight.

I wasn’t going to make it. The fountain loomed up before me and I closed my eyes prepared for the injuries that I would garner when we hit the curb.

But a pair of strong arms caught me up and held me close.

I clung to my rescuer and listened to the mighty splash of Leroy hitting the water.

When the screaming of drenched bystanders subsided, I took a deep breath and opened my eyes.

My rescuer was a gardener. He had graying hair and kind blue eyes. Despite my resemblance to an escaped lunatic, he didn’t drop me and run when I began to tremble. He sat down on the edge of the fountain and patted my back. I gripped his gray uniform shirt in my fists and hyperventilated quietly. My forehead pressed against his chest. In a moment, I realized what I was doing and stumbled out of his arms. “Oh, my goodness, I’m so sorry...um, what was your name?”

“It’s Emil, Miss. These things happen, yah? I understand. That animal looks like quite a handful. But I will have to ask you to remove him from the pond.” Emil’s accent was different than my cabbie’s, halting and awkward one moment, and then smooth and easy on my ears the next.

I glanced over my shoulder where Emil was looking.

Leroy flopped in the middle of the pool as though he were going nowhere for the next hundred years.

A grinning girl, who looked about ten years old, perched on the other side of the fountain. She snapped pictures of me and the gardener with wild abandon.

What was up with all these people and their camera phones? The whole city of Copenhagen was apparently burgeoning with amateur photographers. But really, did they have to start off so young?

7

The Fountain

I stared at Leroy, he stared back.

The gardener’s radio crackled, and he gave me a polite nod before going over to the little girl, taking her phone, and then walking off toward the hotel. Good, at least someone else was equally offended by the prospect of having their most traumatic moments published on the internet.

I looked back at Leroy. He had not moved. He lounged in the shallow pool and plopped his nose on the edge. His body sprawled out in the cool water.

Someone tapped me on the shoulder. I turned around to a tall man from park security. “I’ll have to ask you to remove your animal from the fountain, Ma’am.”

“He’s not mine. A friend is supposed to meet me here and take him back.”

The security guard looked around. “What does this friend look like?”

“Um, he’s tall with shaggy blond hair, blue eyes, and a dimple.”

“A dimple, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“Well I don’t see him.” The security guard was right.

August was nowhere in sight.

“Can you just wait a few minutes? He promised me he was coming for the dog.”

“No Ma’am, if the animal is not removed in the next five minutes, then I will have to remove it. If I am forced to remove it, then the dog goes straight to the pound.”

This was ridiculous. I couldn’t let them take Leroy to the pound now, although he deserved it.

August was right here, somewhere, waiting for his dog.

A teenager in a red jacket and matching hat ran up to the fountain and tapped me on the shoulder.

“Miss Ravn?”

“Yes…”

“Package for you. Please sign here.”

I signed with some trepidation. Who on earth would send me a package in Denmark? I had already gotten a large unruly dog. My day was quite action packed enough, thank you, without adding any more excitement. I glanced up at the security officer. Anything that delayed me getting into that fountain was a godsend. I tore open the package and read the note.

Hope this package eases the strain of your day.
Having trouble with my phone and the taxi, but I’ll be there soon. August.

Besides the note, the package contained a small plastic dispenser full of dog poo baggies, a package of gum, a phone charm of a Newfoundland on a yellow ribbon (ha, as if anything resembling Leroy would ever grace my phone), and a small tin of shortbread cookies.

I yanked open the tin and let the buttery goodness of a cookie crumble in my mouth. If only I’d had the dog poo bags earlier, we might have been allowed to stay in Rosenborg Gardens. I might have found August right there and only ruined two dresses. I took another cookie.

The security guard scowled and plucked the tin from my hands. “Five minutes, ma’am, or I’ll have to take the animal.”

“Fine.” I relinquished my care package. Then I slipped out of my platform sandals and surveyed the fountain. I had on nylons, actual nylon stockings like some kind of real, live girl, and it didn’t seem appropriate to wiggle out of them in front of the whole park. Maybe he would come out on his own if I could convince him I was about to march in and grab him. I tiptoed up to the edge of the pool. “Come here, Leroy. Come on. Good boy, come here.” I gave a few experimental whistles.

Leroy cocked his head but didn’t move.

“Four minutes, Miss.”