Once Upon a Crime, Page 2

  “Stay calm,” Sabrina urged Mr. Canis, but he didn’t seem to hear her. The change had already begun. Canis’s nose morphed into a hairy snout and fur grew on his neck and hands. His body expanded, filling out the oversized suit he always wore. Black talons sprang from the tips of his fingers. Fangs crept down from his upper jaw. He was changing into his true form—that of the Big Bad Wolf, the carefully suppressed beast everyone feared would someday come out and never go back in.

  The cop stood bewildered for a moment, then reached for his weapon.

  “Oh, here it is,” Granny said. She pulled her hand from inside her purse, opened her fist, and blew a puff of pink dust at the police officer. He froze, looking a bit befuddled, and then his eyes went glassy.

  “You know, some days, being a policeman can be downright boring,” Granny said.

  “You’re telling me,” the officer said in a sleepy voice.

  “Why, you didn’t hand out a single speeding ticket today.”

  “Yeah, today was real dull.”

  “Now, get back into your car and have a great afternoon,” Granny said.

  “Will do,” the officer said, obeying. Moments later he hopped into his squad car and drove away.

  “Lucky I brought the forgetful dust,” Granny said. She rested her hand on Mr. Canis’s shoulder and immediately the transformation stopped, then slowly reversed. The old man shrank back to his human state.

  “Relda, I am sorry,” he said. “It has been a struggle as of late. Any little thing seems to set it off.”

  “No harm done,” the old woman said. “But for the rest of this trip I suggest you hide your tail.”

  The old man nodded and did his best to tuck it into the back of his trousers.

  “Wait a minute!” Sabrina cried as she watched the squad car drive away. On the back, painted in bright white letters, was NYPD. “That guy was a New York City cop!”

  “Well, of course he was,” Granny said as she pointed beyond the side of the bridge. Off on the horizon massive buildings reached upward along the skyline, as if competing for heaven’s attention. Airplanes and helicopters flew above them. It was a scene Sabrina had witnessed many times before and her throat tightened as she fought back happy tears.

  Daphne squinted out at the sparkling metropolis. One building stood taller than all the rest, tapering at the top into a fine silver point. She grabbed her older sister’s arm and pointed at it.

  “That’s the Empire State Building!” she cried, quickly placing the palm of her hand into her mouth and biting down on it. It was one of Daphne’s many quirks—the one that signaled that she was happy and excited.

  “We’re home!” Sabrina shouted back. “We’re in New York City!”

  The girls jumped up and down, chanting the sentence over and over again, louder and louder.

  “Well, I’ll be,” Mr. Hamstead said as he approached the bridge railing. Pants were always a problem for the big-bellied gentleman, and he tugged on his now until they were hoisted back over his gut. Satisfied, he leaned on the railing and soaked in the view. The girls noticed his eyes well with tears.

  Daphne rushed to his side and wrapped him up in a hug. “Don’t cry, Mr. Hamstead. You’ll make me cry.”

  “They’re happy tears, Daphne,” he said. “I never thought I’d see this place. I’ve been trapped in Ferryport Landing for a long time.”

  “You’re going to love it! The city is the best! There is so much to do and see and eat! Oh, I can almost smell the hot dogs from here.”

  “Hot dogs!” Hamstead cried as his nose morphed into a runny, pink snout. Hamstead rarely slipped out of his human form, but when he got very excited his true identity as one of the Three Little Pigs was revealed.

  “What did I say?” Daphne whispered to Sabrina.

  “Hot dogs are made from pigs,” Sabrina whispered back.

  Daphne cringed. “I mean, uh, I would never, uh, eat a hot dog, you know … they’re … uh, gross. What I meant to say was pepperoni pizza!”

  The little girl looked at Sabrina for reassurance, but Sabrina could not give it to her. “Pepperoni, too.”

  “It is?”

  Sabrina nodded.

  Daphne cringed, again. “I mean broccoli. I can’t wait to get a big piece to chew on. There’s nothing like walking around the city with a big ol’ head of broccoli.”

  “Oh yeah, New York is famous for its broccoli,” Sabrina said.

  Daphne stuck her tongue out at her sister.

  “Wolf, you should see this!” Hamstead said, shaking off the girls’ culinary suggestions. Mr. Canis joined him at the rail and gazed out at the marvelous city.

  “Look at what we’ve missed,” Hamstead whispered.

  Canis leaned forward in wonder.

  The two men stood in silence. The significance of the moment became clear to Sabrina. The whole world had kept on spinning while the Everafters were stuck in Ferryport Landing. Cities had risen, diseases had been cured, men had walked on the moon, and Canis and Hamstead had missed it all.

  “Wait? Why are we here? I thought we were going to Faerie to save Puck,” Daphne said.

  “We are, liebling. The fairy kingdom is in New York City,” Granny Relda replied.

  Sabrina felt her face grow hot. The pavement seemed to shift and she fell forward. For a moment there was nothing but blackness and then she was on the ground looking up at her family.

  “Liebling, are you OK?!” her grandmother cried. Mr. Canis lifted Sabrina back onto her feet but the girl still felt dizzy and slightly nauseated. “You must have fainted.”

  “You didn’t tell us there were Everafters in the city!” Sabrina said as she struggled to stand on her own.

  Granny frowned. “Sabrina, Wilhelm’s barrier didn’t go up until twenty years after the Everafters arrived in this country. Some of them moved to other—”

  “How many?” Sabrina demanded.

  “How many what, child?” Granny Relda said.

  “How many Everafters live here?”

  “I don’t know, Sabrina,” the old woman replied, turning to Mr. Hamstead.

  “Probably ten fairies and maybe five dozen others,” the portly man said, after a long pause. “When Wilhelm was alive we kept in better contact with them but …”

  Tears gushed out of Sabrina’s eyes and froze on her cheeks. She prided herself on being strong, not a weepy girlie-girl, but she couldn’t help herself. This was a shock. Ever since Granny Relda had taken them in, she had imagined that one day Daphne and she would return to the city with their parents and resume their old lives. They would look back on their time with the Everafters as a bad dream. Now she knew there was no escape from them.

  “Sabrina, what’s the matter?” Daphne asked.

  Sabrina said nothing. Instead, she turned away from her family and stared out at the city skyline. The initial joy at seeing her home had disappeared. Now it seemed alien to her.

  “It must be all the traveling,” Granny said, rubbing Sabrina’s back affectionately. “You girls are hungry and exhausted. We need to get you something to eat. Maybe some hot soup would help.”

  There was an uncomfortable silence among the group until Mr. Canis spoke. “First we must find Puck’s people. Where is this Faerie?”

  Granny sighed. “Unfortunately, the family journals are a bit thin on the Everafters that settled here. I do know Faerie is hidden somewhere in the city.” She fished in her handbag and pulled out an envelope with some writing on it. “And a contact I have sent me this years ago.”

  Daphne took the envelope and read aloud, stumbling over some of the words.

  Mrs. Grimm,

  I’m sorry for your loss. Basil was like a father to me. It breaks my heart that I can’t be there for Henry or you, worse that I am partially to blame for the tragedy. I hope you know that Jacob and I never believed that my escape from Ferryport Landing would bring anyone harm. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.

  I’ve found Faerie, which is h
idden in the Big Apple. I’ve been invited to stay until I am settled. Oberon is very busy with his kingdom, and Titania, well, I’m sure you’ve heard the stories about her. Once I’ve found work and made a little money I’ll be off to explore this big world. Until then, if you are ever in New York City, drop by the park and tell Hans Christian Andersen a knock-knock joke.

  Love,

  G

  “Who’s G?” Daphne asked.

  “An old friend of your father’s,” Granny said. Sabrina and Daphne shared a knowing look. Their father had been in love with an Everafter before he met their mother, though everyone was tight-lipped about who the Everafter was.

  “Can’t we call this G person and get another clue?” Hamstead asked.

  “Perhaps one that makes sense,” Canis said.

  “Is there anything else in the envelope?” Daphne asked.

  Granny Relda looked inside. It was empty.

  “We don’t have time for this,” Mr. Canis grumbled.

  “It’s all we have to go on,” the old woman replied.

  “Well, let’s go find Hans Christian Andersen,” Daphne said.

  Granny shook her head. “Daphne, Andersen wasn’t an Everafter. He just wrote about them. He died a long time ago.”

  “You know that, silly,” Sabrina said. “We read it on his statue in Central Park.”

  “There’s a statue of Hans Christian Andersen in Central Park?” Granny cried. “Sabrina, you’re a genius. Can you take us there?”

  Sabrina nodded reluctantly.

  Once they were on their way again, Granny turned in her seat and handed the book she had been reading to Sabrina.

  “You and Daphne should probably go through this,” she said. “It’s going to tell you everything you need to know about Faerie.”

  Sabrina glanced down at the book. It was a play by William Shakespeare, entitled A Midsummer Night’s Dream.

  Daphne snatched it and flipped through the pages. “What language is this?” she asked.

  “It’s English,” Mr. Hamstead said. “Old English.”

  Minutes later they were over the bridge and cruising through the city’s grid of streets and avenues. Book temporarily forgotten, Daphne gawked at the passing sites, pointing out her father’s favorite diner and the playground their mother had taken them to on Sunday afternoons. Sabrina wanted to look out the window, too, but her old home was spoiled for her. There were few people who would describe New York City as normal, but now that Sabrina knew Everafters were crawling all over it, it seemed tainted, ugly.

  Traffic was especially bad that afternoon. Christmas was only days away and everywhere shoppers were rushing into the streets carrying huge bags, slowing the family’s progress dramatically. But they eventually made their way south through the city, and after much searching, Mr. Canis found a parking spot a few blocks from the park. As the family got out of the car, it rocked back and forth, angrily protesting with a series of backfires and exhaust clouds that caused some of the neighborhood residents to peer out their windows, apparently fearful there was a gun battle going on in the street. The family bundled Puck up in as many blankets as possible and trudged down a snowy sidewalk.

  They made their way to the edge of the park and followed the stone wall until they found an entrance. Sabrina led them down a path that twisted and turned until they came to a man-made pond lined with benches. In the summertime, the pond was used by miniature-boat enthusiasts, who guided their tiny ships across its mirrorlike surface. Sabrina remembered her mother had loved this part of the park. Veronica had brought the girls there on many weekends and they spent hours watching the people walk by.

  “Are you sure this is the place?” Mr. Hamstead asked.

  Sabrina nodded and pointed across the pond. There sat a bronze statue of Andersen himself. Dressed in a suit, tie, and top hat, he was looking down at his most famous story—the ugly duckling.

  “I think your contact is playing a game with us, Relda,” Mr. Canis snarled as they approached the statue. He eyed a suspicious-looking man sitting on a nearby bench, sipping from a bottle in a brown paper sack.

  Granny Relda reached into her handbag for her folded directions and reread them aloud. “It says we’re supposed to tell a knock-knock joke to Andersen.”

  Canis grumbled. “What is a knock-knock joke?”

  “You don’t know what a knock-knock joke is?” Daphne cried.

  “He doesn’t do jokes,” Hamstead said.

  “Well, it goes like this. Knock knock.”

  Mr. Canis said nothing.

  “You’re supposed to say ‘Who’s there?’”

  “Why?”

  “You just do,” the little girl said.

  Mr. Canis took a deep, impatient breath. “Who’s there?”

  “Cows go.”

  Again, Canis was confused.

  “You’re supposed to say, ‘Cows go who?’” Granny explained.

  “Fine!” Canis snapped. “Cows go who?”

  “No they don’t,” Daphne said. “Cows go moo.”

  Hamstead snorted with laughter and Granny giggled, but Canis flashed them both an angry look and they stopped.

  “Well, let’s give it a try,” Granny said as she stepped in front of the statue. “Knock knock.”

  Unfortunately, nothing happened.

  “Maybe we shout it?” Hamstead offered, and then started shouting the words as loud as he could. The rest joined him, causing the man on the nearby bench to mumble “freaks,” get up, and stagger away.

  “Well, this is real fun,” Sabrina grumbled. “Anybody else got an idea before they send the crazy wagon to pick us up?”

  “Where’s Daphne?” Granny asked.

  Sabrina glanced around but her sister was gone. “Daphne!” she shouted, feeling a nervous pain in her belly. She hadn’t been paying attention when she should have been! Daphne was her responsibility.

  “I do not smell the child,” Mr. Canis said.

  “She was standing right here!” Sabrina cried, struggling with her panic.

  Suddenly, Granny smiled and set her hand on the statue. “I’ve got an idea. Knock knock,” she said, and in a blink, she vanished.

  “I think we’ve found the front door,” Mr. Hamstead said, placing his hand on the statue as well. Canis joined him, shifting Puck in his arms to free a hand. Together the men said the magic words and they disappeared, too, leaving Sabrina alone on the snowy street. She looked into the great writer’s face, took a deep breath, and secretly prayed that the family had indeed found a way into Faerie.

  Knowing my luck I’ll end up in the belly of a monster that enjoys goofy kid’s jokes, she thought.

  She reluctantly took a deep breath, and whispered, “Knock knock.”

  And then the statue’s head turned to her, gave a big smile, and boomed, “Who’s there?”

  he world went fuzzy, as if Sabrina were looking at wavy lines on an old television. Just as quickly, her vision cleared and she found herself outside an old fashioned-looking restaurant. A neon sign above the door read THE GOLDEN EGG, and music and laughter could be heard from inside. Her family was nowhere in sight. Sabrina guessed they had gone inside to get out of the blistery cold. Before she could do the same, two chubby men appeared in the doorway. Each had big pink wings like Puck’s, though the men were much older. One wore a burgundy tracksuit, the other a pin-striped two-piece. They shoved a short, naked man outside and he tumbled into the snow.

  “How many times have we told you, Emperor? No shoes. No shirt. No service,” the fairy in the tracksuit growled. “That means pants, too!”

  “Yeah, this is a respectable establishment,” the fairy in the pin-striped suit added. He had a face like a bulldog with hanging jowls and big bushy eyebrows.

  “I am fully dressed!” the Emperor cried. His voice was slurred and he smelled like liquor. “You are just too stupid to see my clothes.”

  “The boss has banned you until you learn to obey the dress code!” bulldog-face grunte
d. He and his partner turned and went back into the bar, leaving the naked man lying in the snow, where he stayed for a few moments until finally crawling to his feet and stomping away. Sabrina could still hear him cursing as he disappeared from sight.

  “That just scarred me for life,” Sabrina said. Then she pushed the tavern door open and went inside.

  The Golden Egg was a large, wood-paneled supper club, with tables, a long oak bar, and a fireplace. It had tin ceilings and smelled like steak and potatoes. At the tables sat roughly two dozen people of all shapes and sizes: an ogre played cards with a centaur, a princess quietly talked with six dwarfs, and a couple of men who seemed to be part human and part crow were arguing about politics. More folks were hunkered over tall frothy mugs at the bar, served by a woman with skin the color of coffee. At the back of the room was an enormous man with yellow eyes, playing a grand piano.

  Sabrina scanned the room and quickly spotted her friends and family standing near the bar. She hurried through the crowd, almost tripping over a hedgehog riding a chicken. Perhaps it was the heat from the fireplace, but the Golden Egg was making Sabrina slightly ill. She felt as if she had walked into the pages of a bedtime story.

  “Uh, where are we?” she asked when she joined the others.

  “You’re in the Golden Egg, honey,” the bartender said as she washed some glasses. She was a pear-shaped woman with an apron wrapped around her waist and big, fluttery eyelashes. Her warm smile helped Sabrina’s stomach relax a little. “We don’t serve minors but I suspect I could find a glass of soda pop or two.”

  “Do you own this place?” Hamstead said over the bar chatter.

  “Nope, I just run the place for the boss. People call me Momma. Haven’t seen you in here before. You new in town?”

  “We’re looking for the fairy kingdom,” Granny Relda said.

  Momma laughed. “You’ve found it, lady. What’s left of it, anyway.”

  “That can’t be,” Granny Relda said.

  Sabrina scanned the room again. The crowd was sparse, and mostly drunk. It certainly didn’t look like a fairy kingdom.