Copenhagen Cozenage (6 page)

I tried bribing Leroy with my shortbread cookies, but they got all soggy as I leaned into the decorative spray. The insufferable beast refused them. Next, I gave a little boy beside me the last of my change for half of his hot dog and waved it in front of Leroy’s nose.

Leroy stood and sniffed at the offering. He wagged at me; I held the hot dog closer. He wagged again and eased his nose closer to the bait. Was it too far away?

I leaned over the edge of the pool, waving the tempting pig meat in front of his giant snout.

Leroy lunged forward and snatched it out of my hand like a half-starved ogre. He then pranced to the center of the fountain with his prize and sat down in the water to eat it. Just great. The ridiculous animal had played me like a violin.

“Three minutes.”

Ugh. I dipped one toe into the pool, shuddered, and tiptoed toward the shaggy miscreant. Ok, so my nylons would get wet. My dress was short, it should stay dry. My hair would remain neatly braided. This wasn’t too bad. Just grab the dog and hand him over when August arrived. Nothing could be simpler.

“Two minutes, Miss.”

I slid a finger under Leroy’s wet collar and tugged. Nothing. I scowled down at the collar. It had been a nice collar once. The thing even had a cute little zipper pocket built in where one could stash small treats or even a pair of keys. But after half a day touring Copenhagen, it looked really nasty. Soggy and hairy and still a little muddy from the moat. I bit my lip, grasped the soggy collar and heaved. Nothing. What did it take to get this creature on the move?

“One minute. You need to hurry up.”

I glared at Leroy, seized the collar in both hands and yanked him forward. He slid toward me in a slow, soggy slump. I had moved him two whole inches. I settled my grip on either side of the collar and heaved.

Leroy stood.

“Time’s up.”

“I’ve got him, just a second.”

Leroy sneezed once, and then shook. His fur was thick and shaggy and had apparently soaked up a good percentage of the water in the fountain. Furry water sprayed everywhere.

Small children screamed, a few evil bystanders laughed, and I was no longer dry.

I cringed away from the odiferous shower and the clasp on my grandmother’s watch clicked open. The antique watch promptly plopped into the pool.

I let go of Leroy and plunged my hand in after it.

My only heirloom and the one gift I owned from an otherwise unknown family member, of course it would fall into the fountain. If some vile occurrence was even slightly possible, it was absolutely going to happen. Because today had simply been that kind of day.

The sundress was definitely too short. After patting the bottom of the fountain for a moment with stiff icy fingers, I snagged the watch and looked up.

Everyone was staring at me. I felt a blush heat my cheeks. Then I froze.

I met the gaze of a brutal looking man. My blush was replaced by a cold, empty tingle as the blood drained from my face. He stood directly across the pool, next to a clown who snapped pictures of my demise upon his phone. He was a thick monster of a man and watched me with an intensity that made a slow, oozing cold creep up my spine. He had heavy muscled arms, a rough sneering face, and dark, empty eyes. Every individual within a kilometer was looking at me, but when this man’s gaze touched me, I backed up a step.

I had never felt like that before, like prey. It made me flash back to all the nature shows I’d enjoyed with Bret and Jesse. Once again, I saw the baby caribou running and bawling for his momma. Behind him, a lean, white wolf loped across the tundra. That particular scene had not turned out well for the baby caribou.

I turned to find the security guard. I know, I was exhibiting a terrible prejudice against people with brutal faces. The man had done nothing to cause my fear. But I still wanted the officer nearby.

The clown hopped up onto the edge of the pool. He performed a wobbly dance in my direction, leaning precariously out over the water only to snap upright at the very last moment.

I stared at the man with the brutal face as the clown approached.

When he finally reached me, the clown gave a gallant bow and offered me his hand. I turned away from the huge man across the pool and grasped the clown’s hand. He tugged me toward him and I stepped out of the pool. The clown winked, kissing my hand.

I gave him a shaky smile and pulled my hand away. I shot a quick glance at my stalker across the pool. I suppose I couldn’t prove he was a stalker, especially since he was probably the only person in Copenhagen who hadn’t taken a picture of me today. But I stepped close to the security guard nonetheless, and reached for Leroy’s leash.

No leash. I turned in a circle. No Leroy.

I dried off my watch and noted the time. One minute until my meeting with August. I looked back across the fountain.

The space where the man with the brutal face had been was empty.

My pulse eased, I straightened and took a cleansing breath.

My stalker was gone, but August would be here in sixty seconds, and his dog was missing.

8

Dragon Boat Lake

My phone chirped out the Star Jumpers theme song. I scrambled through my purse and snatched it up. A text from August glowed on the screen.

So so sorry Morgan. Cab broke an axle. Walking. Be there SOON. Don’t sell Leroy to the sweater makers. I swear, I’m coming.

I sat on the edge of the fountain. Leroy was gone. What if I just left? Went to my hotel room and had a bath, forgot all about these last horrendous hours, ate brunch, and met my cousin. It was an incredibly tempting scenario.

But Leroy was somewhere in the park. Security was sure to find him eventually, even if he’d escaped me. What if they took him to the pound and August didn’t find him before the twenty-fourth?

I crammed my wet nylons into my shoes and clomped off down a random path.

Besides, the beast was certain to appear at any minute.

I would not be stuck with that dog if August somehow couldn’t locate him on his own. I had no option but to hunt down Leroy and hand him over to his irresponsible master personally. Maybe I should tie the leash to August’s hand, just to make sure they stuck together.

Emil, the gardener, jogged up the path toward me. “Miss, are you perhaps looking for your dog?”

“He is not my dog.”

Emil took a step back and a concerned look made a little dent between his brows. That was unfair, none of today’s horrors were the gardener’s fault. He’d only tried to help.

I stepped forward and placed a hand on his arm. The man who’d saved me from being smashed against the concrete fountain like a June bug on the Interstate deserved better. “I’m sorry, it’s been a bad day. Have you seen him?”

“Of course. I understand.” He studied me for a moment and that strange silence I’d felt with August at the airport returned. Still thick as the blubbery mass of a Sci-fi tunnel monster, the silence held us until Emil coughed and indicated one of the many graveled paths. “If you still want to know, he’s down here by the dragon boats. Looks too interested in them for my taste, yah?” Emil turned and took a left.

I stepped up beside him.

We hurried down the path until it turned a corner, revealing a quaint pond filled with small red and green boats.

Leroy stood with his paws up on the wooden railing that surrounded the pond. He gazed upon the water with a focused intensity that made me break into a hobbling run.

“Leroy, stay!”

As the words left my mouth, a green boat filled with three little boys puttered by.

Leroy crouched low and then sprang, launching himself into the children’s craft.

The boat dipped and wallowed. A large wave crashed over the bow. The hearty craft righted itself amid the screams of the three boys.

I boosted my hobbling jog up to a sprint and sped toward the pond. I had to save them. What if one of them fell out of the boat? Even if they lived, the boys’ parents were going to kill me. The best-case scenario left them drenched and smelling of wet dog. Not what a mother wanted from a trip to Tivoli with her boys.

As I chugged up to the railing, the screams died down.

Much petting and patting and hugging commenced. The boys put a pirate hat on the dog’s head as he licked each one in turn. Leroy thumped his tail against the side of the floundering boat while the trio steered their craft into the center of the pond. The boat was far out of my reach.

I stood panting at the edge of the pond, scowling at the impossibly vast ten feet of water that separated me from my quarry. Wading was not an option this time; it was too deep. I slogged over to the ticket counter for a boat of my own. Something made me stop. My stomach clenched, feeling like a rock in a pool of acid. My pulse thumped against my throat, too hard and too fast. I looked back down the path.

The man with the brutal face stood next to a carnival game where contestants threw rings at red floating ducks. Our gazes met and he melted back into the crowd.

I slipped off my shoes and ran for the ticket counter. Though my hands fumbled and my face felt numb, I managed to charter a vessel of my own. I had to catch Leroy, regardless of the creepy guy over by the ducks. I left the gardener on shore, and he shook his head at my scheme. Emil seemed nice, but I hadn’t told him about the man with the brutal face. My fears seemed farfetched, even to me. I didn’t think I could handle being laughed at right then.

My boat was red and the engine had two speeds: stopped and snail. I puttered toward my prey, whistling and calling Leroy’s name.

The little boys spotted me right away. Did they turn their boat my direction and return the naughty beast to the kind lady who sought him? No. No, they did not.

Leroy hid behind the youngest boy and had the gall to whimper and cringe as he looked my way.

The boys rose up in righteous indignation and began throwing soggy leaves and acorns in my direction.

But I was gaining. I was almost close enough to explain my need for the dog’s return, when Leroy jumped.

Stretching his paws, he sailed off the little boat and landed in the pond with a great splash.

The boys turned their craft upon me. With shouts that would have made a ruthless buccaneer shudder, they charged.

The boys shouted out a number of frantic instructions to Leroy in Danish, with a smattering of English thrown in for seasoning.

I caught the words: doggy; run; wicked witch; dungeon; and the phrase “swim for your life”.

Whatever they screamed in Danish was probably just as dramatic. Wicked witch? These children had serious imagination issues.

I opened my mouth to give them some mostly sane, adult-type advice, when they rammed me. Then they backed the little green boat up and rammed me again.

What in the world? I turned my boat to meet their charge and revved the engine. OK, things had gone way past spouting proverbs and giving lectures. These little scoundrels were going to find out that I was not an easy target for their pirate-y attacks.

Our boats puttered across the water on a collision course. Um…perhaps this was an ill-advised retaliation.

The little boys hunched over the steering wheel, their faces grim. Hmmm…OK, so they totally won the stare down.

I’ll admit it, I lost my nerve in the face of their stern dedication to sinking my frail vessel. I turned my wheel at the last minute, but it was too late. Their boat caught the side of my bow and heaved it up and over. I screamed and clung to my boat. But there was no fighting gravity, or small children protecting dogs. The hit sent me sprawling head over heels into the drink.

9

The Pirate Ship

That infernal dog headed straight for the pirate ship.

Yep, there is a pirate ship in Tivoli Gardens. An actual enormous old-fashioned sailing ship floated on a small lake in the middle of the park. A gangplank connected the vessel to shore. Adventurous souls used this ramp to board the ship wherein they could indulge in pirate-y food and drink.

A large, slobbery dog would only add to the chaos of such a situation.

I hauled my soaked and bedraggled self out of Dragon Boat Lake. I shook pond water and a few strands of waterweed out of my shoes. With more force than was strictly necessary, I crammed my trailing, sagging nylons back into my platform sandals and limped after Leroy.

The dog seemed refreshed after his dousing. He pranced along the path with his thick tail waving like a hairy flag behind him, spraying droplets of water on all who ventured too near. Ridiculous animal. I had to capture him at all costs. If I didn’t get the dog back to August soon, he might think I’d stood him up. What if August abandoned his search and decided to leave the dog in my custody indefinitely? I hobbled faster.

Leroy hopped on the gangplank and padded over to the ship.

I pulled at my dress, trying to make the sopping garment look a little bit more dignified. I had worried that the cute red sundress was a mite too short. Not anymore. The soaked skirt sagged longer and longer with each passing moment, but refused to stretch evenly. On my right side, it was about knee length. On my left side, the dress was a good four inches longer and hung in strange, lumpy folds. My shoes squelched with each step and became an unsavory shade of brown as dirt and leaves clung to the sodden surface. After a long trudging journey, I finally reached the gangplank and hobbled across.

It did not take me long to spot the absentee canine. Amidst a slew of rough wooden tables and waiters in pirate garb, an enormous replica of a hammerhead shark hung down from one of the masts. Right below the massive shark sat Leroy. He had made a friend near a bowl of peanuts and was barking and thumping his tail.

A guy in a pirate costume tossed him morsels from the peanut bowl. The man looked up from his new doggy friend and gave me a rakish grin. His blond hair was pulled back into a short tail, and he had a patch over one eye. He had a blond soul patch and a swooping waxed mustache. The corsair’s costume was completed by tight black pants, tall boots, a white billowy shirt, and what looked like an actual sword on one hip. The pirate bowed, pulled out his phone, and snapped a picture of me storming across the deck toward Leroy.