Hide and Snake Murder by Jessie Chandler. Page A

voice filtered clearly into the cool, shadowed interior of the cooler. “Thank you for watching the Great Jackson Square Disappearing Act, where you never know who will vanish next!”
    The freezer began to rock as our savior fired up the moped and motored slowly away. I heard her say a number of times, “Sorry, mates, all out of ice cream. No worries, I’ll be back tomorrow.”
    Sounds of the rowdy crowd faded as we swayed back and forth in our sardine can. At least the interior was cool.
    Coop wheezed, “Shay, I love you, but can you slide a little to the left?” I shifted, and he moaned in relief. “My nuts will never be the same.”
    â€œSorry.” I wiggled closer to the ice-cold wall. “What just happened?”
    Baz said, “I’m not sure if we were an accidental part of that magical act or what, but these guys saved our butts.”
    The cart hit a sizeable pothole. We bounced against the cold, hard bottom, and jostled back and forth. Suddenly Baz let out an inhuman cry. “My wip is stuck to da wall! Ow ow ow ow!”
    For the next few minutes, Coop and I enjoyed an orchestra of Baz’s pain-filled howls. I made very sure to keep my lips and tongue as far from the cold gray metal as I could.
    The cart slowed, and we made two consecutive sharp turns. The bright light that filtered through the open serving-hole darkened, and the cooler came to a stop. Fifteen seconds passed, and then the sound of latches connecting the top to the base of the freezer echoed as they were undone.
    Baz whimpered.
    I whispered, “Don’t move. Your lip will stay there without the rest of you if you try.” I almost felt bad for him.
    Then the top of the cooler was removed, and our rescuer’s head appeared. She looked to be about twenty-five.
    â€œCrikey, you must be some kind of friends for this treatment.”
    We stared up at her. Coop said, “What are you talking about?”
    â€œYeah, wha you talkin’ ’out?” Baz sounded like Arnold from Diff’rent Strokes .
    She looked at Baz. “Is your lip stuck to the metal? Oh my, where are my manners? Let’s get you out of there. You with the lip, hang on.” A warm, tanned hand reached in and closed around my icy fingers. She helped me out of the ice cream freezer, and I jumped to the concrete floor.
    We were in a dimly lit area the size of a basketball court. Various ice cream vending contraptions sat against one wall. In front of those, four mobile hot dog stands waited for use in the center of the floor. Another wall was divided into six postage-stamp-sized changing areas. Two worktables were lined up in front of a six-foot makeup counter that overflowed with beautifying or face-altering accoutrements. Round vanity lights surrounded a mirror mounted above the table.
    Coop climbed out, and then Ms. Australia said to Baz, “One minute, mate, and I’ll have you loose.”
    She strode over to a one of the tables and grabbed a bottle of water. The Australian was a little shorter than I was, but stockier in all the right places. The old me might have said Hey, baby, after this, let’s hook up . Now I just thought it instead of acting on my impulses. I guess my relationship with JT really was good for me.
    â€œHere you go,” she said. She slowly trickled water between Baz’s lip and the metal wall of the cart. After a minute, Baz said clearly, “Oh, thanks. Thank you.”
    He wobbled and nearly fell on his face getting out of the cart, but thanks to a fast hand from Coop, he maintained what was left of his dignity.
    Ms. Australia said, “I suppose I should introduce myself. I’m Gabby Green, and I bet you’re wondering what just happened, eh?”
    Coop rubbed his hands together to restore circulation. “You could say that.”
    Gabby Green leaned against the ice cream cart, her iridescent blue eyes crinkling at the corners. “You’ll find