Eye of Danger: Tiger's Eye Mysteries

by Alyssa Day

  And those were some very big shoes.

  "Yes. Maybe. If we pawn them and don't … can't … come back for them, what happens?"

  I bit my lip and tried not to feel like a horrible person. "Then you forfeit your items—your ukuleles—and I put them up for sale to recoup my expenses."

  They drooped, and I realized I'd hit a new low.

  I'd made clowns sad.

  The starting notes of Tears of a Clown started rolling through my head, and I managed to stop myself from bashing my head against the wall, but it took some doing.

  Finally, Blue looked around at them all, and some silent communication must have occurred, because then he nodded. "Okay. We'll pawn them, or as many as you'll take, but we'll definitely come back for them. How's that?"

  Nobody looked like they were starting to cry, so I considered that a win and smiled. "Okay. But I need to do a bit of research. Can I offer you some water?"

  A few minutes later, they all had bottles of water and were browsing the shop while I reviewed their file and did some research on my own. None of it made me any happier about the idea of taking ukuleles. As much as I despised the thought, I was going to suggest they consider my competition.

  "I realize these are very valuable to you, but I have to run a business based on what I think I can sell an item for, minus the overhead, like my mortgage payment, electricity, what I pay my employee, taxes, etc. Does that make sense?"

  They nodded, but they didn't look happy about it. No tears, though, thankfully.

  "It's like the circus," I said, grasping for inspiration. "Somebody may pay ten dollars for a ticket, but all of that doesn't go to the performers, right?"

  "We get how business works," Orange said dryly. "Don't judge us on our pretty faces."

  "Right. Sorry. Basically, it boils down to this: I can't really give you anywhere near the five thousand each. In fact, since you mentioned eBay, why don't you try there? That's a much more likely spot for a, um, ukulele aficionado to look for one than in my little pawnshop in tiny Dead End, Florida." I had a love/hate relationship with eBay, which had come close to putting pawnshops out of business there for a while, but sometimes I was forced to recommend it.

  A situation with seven clowns and seven ukuleles was—definitely—exactly such a situation.

  "Can you take even a few of them? See how it goes?" Green looked hopeful enough that I bit my lip and wondered how much I could afford to offer for one or even two of them. I mean, compared to the Jackalope …

  "Well, if I—"

  The bells over my door tinkled, and the clowns and I all looked up to see a handsome, slim man with graying blond hair take a step into the shop and freeze.

  "Tess, why are there a bunch of clowns in your shop?"

  "They're looking for their rubber chickens," I shot back, determined to be calm, as the one person I did not want to face on my own walked back into my life.

  The clowns started clapping.

  "Good one, Tess," Blue said. "Looking for their rubber chickens. I love it."

  Orange whistled her approval, and a few of the others stamped their overly large feet and grinned at me.

  I appreciated the applause, but I was too focused on my new visitor to pay much attention. Instead, I clenched my hands into fists behind my back and tried to keep from letting anyone see me tremble. "Why are you here, Dad? I mean, you haven't bothered to call, or write, or visit, or even send me a damn postcard since you walked out on me when I was three years old, so why now?"

  Okay. So much for calm.

  "Dad?" Red folded his arms across his beach-ball-sized belly. "You abandoned your own daughter?"

  Suddenly, the mood in the shop—and the actual positions of everyone in it—shifted, and it was me and seven clowns facing my long-lost father. The soundtrack in my skull switched from Tears of a Clown to The Magnificent Seven.

  "Looks like you have some 'splaining to do, Lucy," Orange offered.

  "And some apologizing," Blue said, scowling at my long-lost father.

  Green nodded and pulled off his rubber nose and dropped it into a pocket. "Maybe we should all sit down and discuss this. I'm sure Tess and her father have some feelings they need to get out on the table."

  This was not how I'd envisioned my day going when I got out of bed this morning. Note to self: stay in bed next time. Still, I stayed silent. Not that I needed clowns to stand up for me, but I'd said what I needed to say.

  "I'm not going to discuss my daughter with, no offense, a bunch of clowns," my father said, his Irish brogue rolling into the tension in the room, more pronounced than I remembered, but, then again, I'd been three the last time I'd heard his voice. He could have sounded like the Lucky Charms leprechaun, for all I knew.

  Red pointed a long, polka-dotted, gloved finger at my father. "What are you, some kind of bigot? Clowns have feelings, too."

  My father scanned the room, his lips tightening, and then he forced a smile. "What do you say, Dumpling? Can you spare a few minutes alone with your dad? For old times' sake?"

  That did it. Old times' sake, my ass.

  "We don't have any old times, Thomas, and that's all on you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have customers. Perhaps you could come back another time," I said, with so much ice in my voice I nearly froze my tongue.

  Holding on to my composure by the thinnest of threads.

  I would not break down and cry in front of a bunch of clowns, no matter how nice they were. And I absolutely would not cry one tear in front of the man who threw me out like I was garbage. Abandoned me and never came back.

  Never communicated in any way.

  "You should leave, buddy," Purple said. "Don't make us go all It on your ass."

  My father's brows drew together in obvious confusion, but I wasn't going to explain pop culture to him.

  "All right, Dumpling—"

  "Don’t call me that." He'd lost the right to any pet names more than twenty long years ago.

  "All right. Tess," he said quietly. "I'm sorry. I'll be at Mike's. Please come over when you can. We need to talk."

  Those hideous four words again.

  We all watched him walk out the door, and then my energy disappeared, and I collapsed onto the stool I kept behind my counter.

  "Well. That was like clowns in a circus," Green said, blowing out a huge breath.

  I just gaped at him for a moment, and then I got it. "Intense. In tents. Like clowns in a circus. I get it." I started laughing, more and more hysterically, and then I burst into tears.

  When Jack walked in ten minutes later, I was crying and surrounded by clowns.

  That's when things really got weird.

  4

  Jack took one look at me and the clowns surrounding me and then shifted. One moment the hottest guy I'd ever met was standing in the doorway, and the next moment, a quarter ton of Bengal tiger was leaping across the shop in a single bound.

  Like a furry, snarling, Super Tiger.

  Clowns scattered like rainbow-colored bowling pins. Blue, though, was made from sterner stuff, and he grabbed one of the ukuleles and crouched, holding the instrument overhead like a baseball bat or a sword, putting himself between me and the oncoming tiger.

  It was one of the bravest things I've ever seen.

  And, okay, one of the funniest.

  "Stay away," Blue shouted, brandishing the ukulele. "I won't let you harm her."

  Jack leapt over Blue's head, the counter, and me, and landed behind me. Then he immediately pushed his enormous furry body between me and the rest of the room, shoving me, stool and all, back against the wall.

  Then he roared so loudly that the walls shook.

  If you've ever heard a tiger roar, you know that I'm not exaggerating when I say that all the clowns in the shop started running, crying, screaming, or some combination of the three. Even courageous Blue faltered, his throat working as he swallowed, hard.

  Okay. That was enough. Bad enough I nearly made clowns cry, now Jack was scaring the
crap out of them. I wiped my cheeks with the back of my hands and stood, shoving at Jack's shoulder to move him out of the way. Jack being Jack, this had absolutely zero effect on him.

  "Enough!"

  When he continued snarling at my clowns, er, my customers, I flicked his ear to get his attention. "They're customers. I was crying because I'm an idiot, and my father was here, not because of them. Now, shift back and say you're sorry."

  Six of the clowns' mouths fell open, and they stared at me in utter shock.

  The seventh clown fainted in a puddle of purple silk.

  "Now look what you've done," I scolded Jack, who gave a sheepish swish of his tail and then, in a shimmer of silvery magic, shifted back to human. Fully clothed human, thankfully, because a few of the clowns' expressions shifted, as well, from terrified to intrigued.

  Jack has that effect on people.

  He ignored them all, though, and turned his focus to me. "Why were you crying? What did your father do?"

  "He called her Dumpling!" Orange said, hands on hips. "After he abandoned her when she was a baby."

  "Well, I was three—"

  "Three is a baby," she snapped. "What a horrible man."

  Jack put an arm around me and gave me a brief hug, and I think he whispered something into my ear, but it sounded like "only you, Tess," so I chose to ignore him. I pushed him away and took a deep breath, then I realized we were still one clown down.

  "Shouldn't we do something about Purple?"

  "Who?" Green looked around. "Oh. Melvin. Yeah. He does that. He's like the human version of a fainting goat."

  "Tess has an earless goat," Jack offered, which was the weirdest apology I'd ever heard, but apparently the clowns were willing to let his dramatic entrance go, because they started plying him with questions about goats, ignoring Purple—Melvin—until I sighed again and went over to my fallen potential customer and shook him gently, helped him sit up, and gave him a bottle of water.

  Melvin took a long drink and then pointed to Jack. "That's Jack Shepherd," he called out, in a loud and somewhat dramatic voice. "Jack. Shepherd. Remember Cleveland? That Jack Shepherd."

  The clowns all froze and went completely silent. Seven pairs of extremely made-up eyes and one pair not wearing any makeup at all (mine) turned to stare at Jack.

  "No! Not Cleveland," Blue said in a hushed tone. "Him?"

  Purple pushed out his lip and frowned. "Know any other tiger shifters?"

  Orange raised one orange-striped, gloved hand and covered her mouth. "No! Really? Cleveland?"

  "And we all know what happened there," Green intoned, nodding his head somberly.

  I raised a hand. "I don't. I don't know what happened there."

  The clowns said nothing.

  Jack said nothing.

  I wanted to strangle somebody, but the potential headline stopped me:

  LOCAL PAWNSHOP OWNER STRANGLES CLOWNS ON THEIR WAY TO PERFORM AT CHILDREN'S HOSPITAL

  I'd never live that down.

  "What happened in Cleveland?" My voice was just a touch shrill, even I could hear it, but it had been a long, long day.

  "We can never speak of Cleveland," Purple said, pushing himself up off the floor. "It's a sacred clown trust."

  Yet another expression I'd never thought I'd hear in my pawnshop: "sacred clown trust."

  "Well, then." I rolled my eyes. "Let's forget all this and look at the ukuleles. I think I can take two of them …"

  "What ukuleles?" Jack, standing directly in front of the counter where the seven ukuleles rested in their cases, asked.

  I raised an eyebrow.

  He glanced down. "Oh. Those ukuleles. Are you buying them?"

  The clowns perked up, hope shining beneath their makeup.

  Great. I get to crush the hopes and dreams of kind-hearted clowns. Thanks, Jack.

  "I can only take two of them, I think," I began, because I really, really didn't see how I'd unload even two of them, but I wasn't willing to send my clowns off empty-handed.

  Jack aimed a direct look at Blue. "Why do you need the money?"

  "Jack! We don't ask customers why they need money. It's none of our business," I said, scandalized. Poor Jeremiah would have been appalled.

  "Bookings are way down, and we need some new costumes and equipment to have a chance to be part of a great new performance circus starting up in Tampa," Blue said matter-of-factly. "We'd hoped to be able to get twenty grand in seed money with the ukuleles, but it's looking like that won't happen."

  "And we're going to be late," Orange put in anxiously, looking at the enormous watch on her wrist.

  Jack looked a question at me, so I explained about the children's hospital.

  "I'll buy three of them," I said, resigning myself to eating mac and cheese for a month or two. Ramen noodles, maybe. They were five for a buck.

  "Don't you guys need them to perform?" Jack shoved his hands in his pockets and leaned against the counter, the picture of nonchalance, in spite of 1) Cleveland, whatever that was about, and 2) the fact that he was sticking his giant tiger nose into my business.

  But it would have been rude to argue with him in front of the customers, so I just held my breath and silently counted to ten.

  1, 2, 3 …

  "I'll give you the twenty grand for the seed money," Jack said, shrugging. "And I'll make a donation to the hospital, too. No worries."

  4, 5, 6, 7. Oh, no, he didn't, 8, 9, 10

  7,000 …

  The counting wasn't working.

  "Jack," I said, smiling sweetly. "May I speak to you in the back?"

  The clowns frowned at me. "Are you hurt? Why are you grimacing like that?"

  Orange started rummaging in the satchel she carried. "I bet it's constipation. I can recognize that look from a mile away. I have some medicine in here …"

  "No!" I shouted. "It’s not consti—I wasn't grimacing, I was smiling sweetly, and—"

  "Oh, honey, no," Purple said, making a tsking sound. "That was a grimace."

  "Trust us, we know faces," Green added. "Like this—" he contorted his face into a hideous, terrifying expression. "That's what you looked like. Seriously, you could work with us."

  "Or be in the next It movie," Purple helpfully added. "You wouldn't even need much makeup."

  "Thank you very much, " I gritted out. "I believe Jack and I are going to have a chat—"

  "In a minute, Tess," Jack said. He strode through the connecting door and into his office, and I spent a happy minute or so contemplating all the ways I was going to beat him to death with his own tail, or with my new Jackalope, but before I could conquer my new, murderous tendencies or even think of something to say to the clowns, he was back, holding two pieces of paper that looked a lot like business checks.

  "Hospital's name?"

  They told him, and he wrote something on one.

  "Your name?"

  Turns out Blue was Bob Galianakis.

  Jack scribbled something on the second.

  "Here you go," he said, handing the two checks to Blue. "It's the least I can do."

  Blue took the checks, stared at them, and then I almost could have sworn he turned pale beneath his clown makeup. "You … you're just giving us twenty-five thousand dollars? And another twenty-five to the hospital? I don't—we can't accept—how--"

  Jack shrugged, looking like he wanted to be anyplace else. He wasn't good at accepting thanks or, apparently, hero worship from clowns.

  All of them crowded around to see the checks and then to pour even more thanks on Jack, making him squirm, but, in a surprisingly short amount of time, he gathered their contact information, gave them his card, and nudged them out the door—ukuleles in hand—so they wouldn't be late for the hospital.

  I, on the other hand, pretty much just stood, speechless, watching all of this with a rather considerable amount of shock, until all seven clowns came up to hug me goodbye before they left.

  "You're the best, Tess. Don't let your father push you around," O
range whispered when she hugged me. Before I could think of a response, they were gone.

  Jack walked them out, and when he came back in, I was still standing there, mouth hanging open.

  He took one look at me and stopped. "Are you okay? None of them touched you with bare skin, did they?"

  Jack knew about my … gift.

  "No. Well, except Purple, and he's going to die when he's very old, surrounded by his friends at a clown convention." I blinked. "It's not that. I don't--What just happened? Did you actually just give fifty thousand dollars to a bunch of clowns you've never seen before?"

  He shrugged, and I almost could have sworn he blushed. "Technically, I only gave them half that. The rest was for the hospital."

  "But … but … I mean, money for the hospital, that's wonderful, but what … how …"

  "I kind of had to do it, Tess. A clown saved my life once."

  5

  "Nope." I closed my eyes, shook my head, and marched over to the front door, passing Jack on the way. He was smart enough to move out of the way, or I probably would have run him down. "Nope, nope, nope."

  "Nope?"

  I turned the OPEN sign to CLOSED. "Nope. Nope, I'm not asking about how a clown saved your life, or how flying monkeys attacked you in Japan, or how you helped save Atlantis. I'm not asking about Cleveland, or rebel forces, or how you once fought a saber-toothed tiger in Sedona. I'm done playing the comedic sidekick when you drop these nuggets of insanity about your life during the past ten-plus years. So, nope to that and yes to lunch. Do you want to go with me, or would you rather stay here, handing out wads of money to passing circus performers?"

  I had to stop talking, because I ran out oxygen, and frankly, I'd said more than enough.

  "Tess." A slow, sexy, smile spread across his face, and he started to saunter toward me.

  "Nope. Lunch or not? Last chance?"

  "Tess. Of course I want to have lunch with you. And, honey?"

  "Don’t call me honey," I muttered, echoes of Dumpling running through my brain.

  He pushed a strand of hair behind my ear and leaned close. "You're nobody's sidekick."