Hide and Snake Murder by Jessie Chandler.

angry we’d stampeded through them, but I wasn’t about to slow down to find out.
    I blinked, and Baz disappeared.
    Coop bellowed, “Hey! Baz!” and we both slowed about twenty feet from the performers, searching the crowd for the top of the fat little man’s glistening head. Four of the vendors had closed ranks and stood on either side of Liberty. The tempo of the drumming sped up to a pounding staccato rhythm, helping to increase the size of the audience. Our pursuers were caught in the rear of the swelling crowd. Before we could take off again, the black dog working the audience for tips appeared in front of us. He barked and grabbed my pants leg in his teeth and pulled.
    â€œDamn it, let go!” I tried to shake him off, terror oozing up my spine. The dog used his weight to drag me forward, toward the gap between the audience and Lady Liberty.
    One of the magicians who’d set up next to the mime stood a few feet away. With small black eyes and a pointy black goatee, he looked like a cross between Johnny Depp the pirate and Johnny Depp of Edward Scissorhands . He moved toward us, and said under his breath, “Go with it.”
    Go with what? I shot a look behind us again. The two villains had shoved their way through about half the gathered crowd. They’d be on us in seconds. Coop gave me a skeptically raised eyebrow and shrugged. No time to argue. I allowed the dog to pull me toward Liberty. The drumming rose to an even higher, louder pitch. The dog released me once we got to the center of the open area and trotted off to the side.
    People had started clapping in time to the rapid-fire beat, raising the noise level until the only thing I could hear was an all-consuming, thunderous roar.
    Another magician, dressed in a Dr. Seuss top hat and sporting a billowing black cape, stepped between the crowd and us. He raised his arms, and effectively created a wall from the audience with the ends of the satiny cape attached to his wrists.
    Invisible speakers boomed with the sound of the magician’s deep, hypnotic voice. “Welcome to the Great Jackson Square Disappearing Act, where we make people go … ” He snapped his fingers. “POOF!”
    He paused a long moment, and in that time, the dog moved in and nipped my pants again, pulling more gently this time. I grabbed Coop’s sleeve and allowed the mutt to lead us past the mime. The only thing that so much as twitched on the frozen performer were her eyes, which followed our progress.
    Dr. Seuss continued his pitch, but I ceased hearing his words. White noise took over.
    I hadn’t realized the ice cream vendor had moved her moped and cooler behind the performers, next to the wrought iron fence surrounding the square until the dog let go of my pant leg and trotted over to her.
    â€œBags over there, mates.” Her cheerful voice had a melodic accent, and it took a moment to place it. Australian. She jerked her thumb in the direction of a powder-blue plastic storage bin hidden behind one of the artist’s set-ups. Coop and I flung our bags into the container.
    With lightning speed, she lifted up the entire top of the cooler and said, “In you go.” The tank-like freezer was about three feet in height, four feet wide, and about six feet long. Coop and I peered inside, and instead of ice cream, a frozen-looking Baz lay against the far wall, the expression on his face one of shock and amazement.
    With no time to consider anything, we dove into the deep freeze. Baz grunted when Coop landed half on top of him, and Coop groaned when I rolled into the container and crashed into him. I didn’t think we were all going to fit, but somehow we did. Our ice cream dream babe shut the top, latched it, and opened the foot-square ice cream retrieval hatch so we could breathe. Muffled sounds from outside filtered into the cooler. It was obvious when the crowd exploded in a joyful frenzy that the show was over.
    A booming