The Half-True Lies of Cricket Cohen

by Catherine Lloyd Burns

  The bathroom was modern, uncluttered, beige, and empty. Cricket didn’t see Dodo.

  “Dodo?” Cricket called. Where could her grandmother be?

  “Cricket?” Dodo said. “I was hoping you’d come! I can’t get up.” Cricket followed the voice until she saw Dodo’s feet under the door of the stall at the end of the long row.

  “Are you okay?” Cricket asked. “Should I come in?”

  “I think you better,” Dodo said, laughing. “I can’t get up.” Cricket tried the door, but it was locked. Three women walked in and began applying makeup at the mirror. Cricket went into the stall next to Dodo’s, hoping they wouldn’t notice her wriggling on the floor under the divider. If they did notice, at least she wouldn’t be able to see the expressions on their faces. Nothing short of horror-stricken, probably. Bunny certainly wouldn’t want her daughter facedown on the floor of a public bathroom.

  Dodo laughed when Cricket emerged in her stall.

  “Hello!” Cricket said. “So what’s going on?”

  “I can’t get up,” Dodo whispered cheerfully.

  “Hmm,” Cricket said.

  “I’d like to get up and go have a cup of coffee.” Dodo reached out her right hand and Cricket grabbed on.

  “I just need to lean on you,” Dodo said. But the angle was wrong and Dodo’s underpants were around her ankles, which created other challenges.

  Cricket crouched down and wedged her hands into Dodo’s armpits and tried to hoist her up. Dodo rose for a second before she landed back down on the toilet with a thump.

  Cricket and Veronica used to spend hours, probably entire days, playing a game like this. Cricket had an enormous stuffed tiger that she and Veronica tried to lift onto Cricket’s top bunk. They were little, like four years old, so they always collapsed under the weight of the huge animal. But trying and failing to get the big animal onto the top bunk made them laugh till they could barely breathe. They did it over and over. At the moment, Dodo was the tiger and Cricket found the situation hilarious. She hadn’t laughed this hard in a long time.

  Eventually Cricket got Dodo (and her underwear) up. It was such an accomplishment that they both screamed for joy. They walked out of the stall, triumphant, and were greeted by withering stares.

  “My word,” Cricket said, adopting an English accent.

  She looked at herself in the mirror and wiped tears off her face, ignoring the other women.

  No one in the bathroom was the least bit amused.

  What a wicked crowd, she thought.

  “My word, indeed,” Dodo said. “Darling, shall we resume our luncheon?”

  24

  THE BARNEYS BASEMENT

  Cricket was very much in the mood for an ice cream sundae on a brownie—one of her favorite desserts. Dodo had mentioned wanting coffee. But maybe she would order tea, since they were British now.

  There were four men waiting outside the bathroom, all with walkie-talkies and all wearing dark suits. One of them said, “Come with us, please.”

  “Well, my heavens,” Dodo said. It was like a dream come true. She winked at Cricket.

  Another man herded Cricket like she was a little farm animal. “What is your relationship to this woman?” he asked.

  “She’s my grandmother,” Cricket said. “What is going on?”

  No one answered. Had Bunny sent these guys? In addition to walkie-talkies, they all had wires coming out of their shirt collars that must have been connected to some kind of secret speaker that went into their ears. Did they work for the government? Were they part of the CIA? Did they think that Dodo was a spy because of her old-fashioned 1950s sense of style? Were they after Dodo? She’d traveled all over the world, supposedly collecting art for people. Maybe that was a front. Maybe she was really a secret agent and her enemies had finally caught up to her. Dodo’s not knowing who or what to trust supported that theory.

  Cricket would die if she was mistaken for a spy. She spent most of her time imagining herself as some kind of scientist: an astrophysicist, a doctor, and obviously a geologist, but spy work was amazing. Spies led secret lives. Spies had adventures like crazy. They had incredible equipment, pens that turned into cameras, cars that could fly, shoes that became dangerous weapons. What if Dodo actually was a spy? Why had that never occurred to Cricket? Her grandmother had spent most of her life jetting around the globe.

  Cricket and Dodo were ushered toward the elevators. They passed the restaurant and then Cricket thought they’d gotten into trouble for not paying, but they hadn’t finished eating yet. Cricket had no idea what was going on, but she was thrilled when the wall they were now standing in front of whooshed open. They were going into a secret elevator! To a private tarmac somewhere to board Air Force One. She’d seen pictures of that plane. If the president was on board he could ask for anything to eat and they had to make it for him.

  Cricket’s mind fired on all cylinders, trying to piece together where they were going and what was happening. Dodo, on the other hand, was leaning on the man who had brought her into the elevator as though they were on a date.

  When the secret elevator doors opened again they were in a new world where everything was gray. The paint shone like in a school or a hospital or a submarine. They were in the basement of Barneys. Cricket didn’t like it down here. There was no aquarium. It smelled like it was cleaned regularly with heavy disinfectant.

  They walked down hallways and by countless closed doors. She tried to memorize the route the men were taking. But they had made so many turns she was disoriented. Were they in trouble for running away? She was in a maze and she’d never find her way out. It was like being spun before your turn at pin the tail on the donkey. No matter how much she tried to memorize where the back end of the donkey picture was located so she’d pin the tail in the right vicinity, when she took off her blindfold, her tail wasn’t ever anywhere near where she thought she’d pinned it.

  What if she and Dodo were being kidnapped? What if they were mixed up in something dangerous? One of the walkie-talkies was blaring static, like in the subway when they announced unintelligible information about route changes and delays.

  They walked forever, blocks underground. If this was a covert criminal operation, it was a big one.

  They stopped in front of a pair of uniformed security guards who were behind a counter checking the bags and coats and pockets of employees. One guard discovered a tie loosely hung around a salesman’s neck. It still had the price tag on. He said he’d been modeling it for a woman who wanted to see it on a man, and he must have forgotten about it. The guards filled out a form, and they made the salesman fill out a form. Lots of signatures were exchanged. The guards kept the tie. The man was allowed out.

  Was this about shoplifting? Had they been brought here because someone thought they’d stolen something? But the guards were only searching Barneys employees. Cricket went back to the kidnapping theory. Except that didn’t make sense either because her parents didn’t have the money for ransom. Cricket needed to call her mother. But how? Her phone was dead. It was so dead it wouldn’t even turn on. There probably wasn’t any reception all the way down here, anyway. They were entirely at these people’s mercy.

  She and Dodo were taken into a windowless room where a half-dead fly buzzed and flopped on the table. A woman, dressed in a dark suit like the men who had escorted them on their trip downstairs, sat behind a desk. She was steely. Young Bette Davis could have played her. Cricket and Dodo were told to sit down. To the right of the woman’s desk was a wall of television sets. Every TV played a different part of Barneys.

  One of the men spoke to the woman briefly and then all the men left. No one explained anything, so Cricket watched the poor fly as it struggled to ascend. She noticed cameras, one in each corner of the room. Her heart was still racing. Maybe Dodo was an international fine art thief. Maybe she had the original Mona Lisa hidden somewhere. And maybe Bunny had accidentally thrown it away when she downsized Dodo’s possessions before the
move to New York. Maybe they were going to be deported.

  “My name is Ms. Diaz,” the woman behind the desk said. She showed a Barneys ID. “I’m a security agent here at the store.”

  “Hello,” Dodo said curtly. She was probably disappointed that all her male friends from the elevator had left the room.

  “Do you know why you’re here?”

  “No, I most certainly do not. Where are the other gentlemen?”

  “May I have some identification, please?” Agent Diaz said. Cricket hoped Dodo would cooperate. Dodo could be crabby. Especially when she thought she was being ignored. Cricket was relieved when Dodo rummaged in her purse and produced a driver’s license.

  “California,” Agent Diaz said, looking at the license and typing something into a database. “Why do you have an out-of-state ID?”

  “I just moved. From Los Alamos.”

  Agent Diaz looked at Cricket. Cricket wasn’t sure if she was supposed to verify what Dodo had just said. Agent Diaz finally said, “ID please.”

  “Huh?”

  “Do you have a state-issued ID?” Agent Diaz said.

  “I’m sorry,” Cricket said. “I’m eleven.”

  “Name?” Agent Diaz looked more aggravated.

  “Cricket Cohen.” She wished her parents had given her a normal name. How embarrassing. If this really was about Dodo’s stolen-art ring and Barneys thought Cricket was involved, her name was all wrong. She should be called Lucinda Barrister. She hoped Agent Diaz wouldn’t ask for Bunny’s name.

  “Address?”

  “Sixty-four West Sixty-Fourth Street,” Cricket answered.

  Agent Diaz entered more information and returned Dodo’s license.

  “Mrs. Fabricant, my men have been following you,” the woman said.

  “I know that,” Dodo said, blushing.

  “A few moments ago you indicated you didn’t know why you were here,” Agent Diaz said.

  “Well, I thought it was for romance, but that no longer seems to be the case,” Dodo said with a sad smile. Like the best part of her day was over and all she had left was a lousy ticket stub.

  There was a knock on the door and a new agent poked his head in.

  “Hello,” Dodo said to the man. She waved at him.

  “Hello,” the man said, somewhat taken aback. He moved closer to Agent Diaz as though she could protect him.

  “That is a charming pocket square you’re wearing,” Dodo said.

  “Excuse me?”

  “I said, I like your pocket square. It looks very handsome on you.”

  So this was the plan. Dodo was going to flirt her way out of this mess. Dodo had not taught Cricket how to flirt. But she needn’t worry. Dodo always flirted enough for at least two people.

  “Mrs. Fabricant,” Agent Diaz said, “the reason you’re here is that shawl.”

  “Oh my heavens. Everyone loves this shawl. It’s the best thing I ever bought,” Dodo said, smiling.

  “Do you happen to have the receipt for it, ma’am?” the man asked.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Dodo said. “I got it in Florence. Years ago. It was a wonderful trip.”

  Agent Diaz and the new guy looked at each other.

  “Mmhmm,” Agent Diaz said.

  “I’m going to ask you again. Do you have a receipt for the merchandise?”

  “I doubt it. I lost it in the move. I lost everything in the move. Everything’s gone,” Dodo said.

  The man looked at Dodo and shook his head. “You’ve got to call this in, boss. We’ve got a confused senior and a minor.”

  “Excuse me,” Cricket said. “Speaking of calls, don’t we get a phone call? Do we each get one? I’d like to call my parents.”

  “Are they local?” Agent Diaz asked. “At the address you gave me?”

  “They’re on Long Island today.” The minute she said that she regretted it. She should have said her parents were very local, as a matter of fact. Then maybe she and Dodo could just promise to go home, and then walk out of here.

  “Time to call it in,” the man with the pocket square said again.

  Cricket didn’t want anyone calling anything in. She wanted to do the calling. If ever anyone needed a lawyer, it was now. Where was Richard Cohen, attorney-at-law, when you needed him?

  “Please, my phone call,” she repeated. If she only had a charged phone she’d have already been dialing.

  The smart board behind Agent Diaz’s desk came alive with multiple images. Each one was time-stamped with that day’s date. The screens showed, from four angles, Dodo Fabricant removing the shawl from the display and putting it around herself. It was right there, many times over. Cricket reached over to feel the shawl. It was remarkably soft. It also still had a Barneys price tag hanging from it.

  “Dodo, don’t worry, we’re going to straighten all this out.”

  “Oh, I’m not worried. They’ve made a terrible mistake.”

  “I need to call my parents,” Cricket said again. She impressed herself with how steady her voice was. She was much calmer now that it was clear this wasn’t an international art bust.

  Agent Diaz handed her a phone receiver. “I’d like to speak with them, too. What’s the number?” she asked.

  Cricket stared at the base of the phone on the desk. Who should she ask Agent Diaz to dial? Her father was way less high-strung and he was the lawyer. But he rarely answered his phone if he didn’t recognize the number. So Cricket recited Bunny’s phone number and Agent Diaz punched it in. While the call went through, Cricket practiced what she’d say.

  Hi, Mom, good news! Dodo isn’t a spy or an international art thief. But we need you to turn around and come back to the city right away and tell Dad to bring his lawyer briefcase to Barneys.

  Bunny’s phone went to straight to voice mail. She should have called her father. At the beep she spoke without thinking: “Hi, Mom, it’s Cricket. Um, I hope things are going well and give me a call when you can, I guess.”

  The last thing she wanted to do was leave her mother a message that was too alarming.

  She gave the phone back to Agent Diaz, mortified by how she’d bungled her call for help. What was going to happen now? How would her parents find her? What if they did send Dodo up the river? What if Cricket was going to foster care? What if they were so mad at her for not charging her phone they left her there?

  All we asked you to do today was write your memoir. Why can’t you be responsible, Cricket? Why are you in the basement of Barneys accused of a crime? Oh, Cricket.

  She couldn’t think about it.

  “We have to put you and your grandmother in custody.”

  “In custody?”

  “Until your parents can be reached.”

  “What if we pay for the shawl?” Cricket offered. Dodo must have enough money in her wallet. Why hadn’t anyone thought of this? Surely if they paid, they could go home. She just wanted to get them home.

  “Cricket,” Dodo said, “I already paid for this shawl. In Florence. And it isn’t even clean, Abby’s been wearing it.”

  “I know, Dodo,” Cricket said. “You’re right. But I was thinking we’d pay for it just to get out of here, and then sort it out later.”

  “Ah,” Dodo said emphatically. “That makes a lot of sense. Let’s do that. And we should go upstairs for some coffee and dessert and then we can settle up at the restaurant, too. We’ll sort it all out later.”

  “I still can’t release you,” Agent Diaz said.

  “Why?” Cricket asked. “If we pay, you have no reason to hold us.”

  “You’re a minor and I need to hand you over to a responsible adult. Your grandmother isn’t that person right now. I’m sorry.”

  Cricket looked at Dodo. Dodo was either not paying attention or pretending not to. Either way it was better than Dodo actually responding to the charge of being irresponsible.

  “My mother will answer her phone soon, she’s probably just somewhere with bad service.”

  “You
can call her again from the precinct. We have to turn you over to protective custody. My associate has already called the police.”

  Cricket looked up and saw that the other agent was gone. She hadn’t noticed that he’d left.

  “We aren’t dangerous!” Cricket said. Although at the moment she wished they were. Then they could turn the tables. They’d pull out their weapons and jump over the desk and break down the door and run.

  “You’re a minor. We have to call it in to the local precinct.”

  “What a shame,” Dodo said.

  25

  OFFICER COOLIDGE AND OFFICER BRYANT

  Cricket and Dodo sat on a bench in front of the security desk waiting for their police escort. From her proximity to employees entering and exiting the building, Cricket learned this fun fact: all the Barneys salespeople walked around with transparent plastic pouches to keep personal stuff in, like phones, combs, Chap Stick, wallets. Cricket also learned that the men with the walkie-talkies were all over the store communicating with one another about potential shoplifters. All that stuff was clear, but what still wasn’t clear was why she and Dodo were considered dangerous.

  “Why are we here?” Dodo asked.

  “I have to say, Dodo, I’m not sure either,” Cricket said. “But when we get where we’re going, I think everything will make more sense.” She kicked herself for not taking better care of Dodo.

  “I’m sure it will,” Dodo said. “You’re usually right.”

  Cricket hoped Dodo wasn’t just saying that to make them feel better. Cricket wanted to be the one to do the comforting. She took Dodo’s hand.

  Five minutes later two uniformed police officers walked in. One was short with a mustache and the other was tall and thinner. Cricket didn’t like men with mustaches. Nosy Pete the doorman had a mustache.

  “Hey, Taylor,” the short one with the mustache said as he high-fived the biggest guy behind the desk.

  “Bryant, my man,” Taylor said.

  “What’s with the new hairstyle?”

  “You don’t like?” The guard ran his hand over his freshly shaved and extremely shiny head, feigning hurt feelings. “I have to say, Bryant, you’re looking pretty juicy. You been eating a few extra doughnuts? I do believe there’s even more of you to love.”