“Two coffees, please,” said Dorothy.
“And a large glass of beer,” said Eddie.
Dorothy looked up at Jack. “How did you do that?” she asked, and she smiled as she asked it.
“Just a trick,” said Jack, but in a distracted voice, as he was viewing large posters that hung upon the walls to the rear of the serving counter. These were adorned with dozens of pictures of the special-offer free Toy Town figures. Jack instantly recognised Chief Inspector Bellis, and the cigar shop proprietor, monkeys and musicians, several of the laughing policemen that he had recently fallen foul of, Tinto the clockwork barman and …
“Amelie,” whispered Eddie.
“Sorry?” said Dorothy. “What did you say?”
“Amelie,” Jack pointed. “I know her, she’s my –”
“She’s your what?”
“It doesn’t matter,” said Jack. “Or rather it does, very much.”
Eddie set free a dismal growl. For Eddie could see, as indeed could Jack, Eddie’s own picture up there.
“I don’t understand it,” said Jack. “I don’t.”
“You are a very strange boy. Ah, here are our coffees.”
“And where’s my beer?”
Dorothy laughed. “That really is very clever.”
“Get him a beer, please,” said Jack. “He needs it and I need one, too.”
“I can’t get beer – I’m underage and so are you. Don’t be so silly.”
“Bad bad meathead world,” grumbled Eddie.
“Stop it now.” Dorothy paid for the coffees and carried them to a vacant table. “Come on, Jack,” she called.
With difficulty Jack tore his eyes away from the colourful posters and carried Eddie to the table. He pulled out a chair and seated the bear upon it.
“Horrible world,” grumbled Eddie.
Dorothy looked nervously at Jack. “You weren’t touching him when he said that,” she said.
“Just a trick,” said Jack.
“I’m not so sure.” Dorothy gave Eddie a close looking-at. “There’s something about this stuffed toy of yours. Something –”
“Special?” Jack suggested.
“Different,” said Dorothy. “Odd, perhaps.”
Jack stared into his coffee cup. He recalled his conversation with the cigar proprietor who had told him, “I have the special eye and I see trouble lying in wait ahead for you. Trouble that comes in the shape of a chicken,” and also his conversation with Eddie when they first went to Toy Town and had talked about souls being stolen and all of Toy City being under threat.
“Stealing their souls,” said Jack. “Taking their very essence. And for this?”
“Please tell me what you’re talking about.” Dorothy looked over at Jack. “You’re frightening me.”
“I’m sorry.” Jack shook his head. “I’d like to tell you, but I can’t. And even if I could, you wouldn’t believe me. You’d think I was mad.”
“This is California,” said Dorothy. “Everyone’s mad here. There was an Englishman like you, well, he was a Scotsman, but I think that’s the same thing. His name was Charles Rennie Mackintosh, and he said that if you turn America on its side, everything that is not screwed down rolls to California.”
“I’m sure that’s very profound,” said Jack, “but it means nothing to me. Is this California? I thought it was Hollywood.”
“It is Hollywood, but Hollywood is part of LA, which is in California. California is a state in America. But why am I telling you this? You know where you are, surely.”
Jack shook his head. “Hold on,” he said. “You said LA.”
“LA,” said Dorothy. “Los Angeles.”
“LA,” said Jack. “TO TO LA. To LA. It was a signpost.”
“I’m more confused than ever.”
“And so am I,” said Jack.
“You’re coffee’s getting cold.”
Jack sipped at it.
“Do you like it?” Dorothy asked.
“It’s fine, thank you.”
“Beer would be better,” Eddie said. “This is a nine-pint problem.”
“You didn’t do that,” said Dorothy to Jack. “You were sipping your coffee when it spoke.”
“I’m not an it,” said Eddie. “I am an Anders Imperial. Cinnamon plush coat –”
“Not now,” said Jack.
“He speaks by himself.” And Dorothy’s green eyes grew wide.
“It’s just a trick.”
“It isn’t a trick.”
“All right. It’s a small child in a costume.”
“Oh no it isn’t.”
“Let’s go to a bar,” said Eddie. “There’s bound to be one somewhere that will serve us.”
“It’s speaking by itself, it really is.”
“And I’m not an it! Get rid of her, Jack. We have to press on now, find our other selves, stop them doing what they’re doing and fast.”
“I agree,” said Jack. “This is bad, very bad.”
“It’s alive, Jack! Make it stop!” And tears sprang into Dorothy’s eyes.
“Listen,” said Jack, “please be calm. I’m sorry.”
“But it’s alive.”
“Will you please stop calling me an it?”
“Make it stop, it’s frightening me.”
“Eddie, please be quiet.”
Eddie made growling sounds.
Dorothy rose to flee.
“No,” said Jack. “Please don’t go.”
“Let her go, Jack.”
“No. Please stay.” Jack rose, took Dorothy gently by the shoulders and sat her back down. “I’ll tell you,” he said. “I’ll tell you everything. But before I do, you must promise me that you will tell no one what I tell you. And I’m saying this for your own good. Murders have occurred –”
“Then you –”
“Not me. I’m not a murderer. Eddie and I are detectives. We are in pursuit of murderers.”
“That thing is looking at me in a funny way.”
“It’s the only way he knows.”
“Thanks very much,” said Eddie, and he shifted in his chair, which had Dorothy cowering.
“Please promise me,” said Jack, “and I’ll tell you everything.”
And Dorothy promised in a shaky voice and Jack then told her everything.
And when Jack was done there was silence.
Except for the background restaurant noise of large Californians chowing down on family chicken-burger meals.
“My head is spinning,” said Dorothy. “But somehow I always knew it. I used to say to my little dog Toto, before he was sadly run over by a truck, somewhere over the rainbow …”
And Dorothy burst into song.
Which rather surprised the diners. And rather surprised Jack, too.
“Oh, sorry,” said Dorothy, bursting out of song. “I’m rather prone to that.”
“It was very nice,” said Jack. “I liked the bit about the bluebirds.”
“I didn’t,” said Eddie. “Ne’er a hint of a bear.”
“A land of toys,” said Dorothy.
“Well, a city,” said Jack. “That was once Toy Town.”
“And the toys on the posters –”
“As I said,” said Jack, “some of them are already dead and if we don’t stop these doppelgangers of us, as you can see on the posters, many more folk in Toy City will die. Including Eddie here.”
“At least I seem to get star billing,” said the bear. “I’m the last on the list.”
Dorothy smiled upon Eddie. “He really is quite cute,” she said. “Can I give him a cuddle?”
“You cannot,” said Eddie Bear. “Most undignified.”
Dorothy smiled once more and shook her head. Her flame-red hair glittered in reflected sunlight. “Let me help you,” Dorothy said. “I’m sure I could do something to help.”
“I wouldn’t hear of it,” said Jack, finishing his coffee. “It’s far too dangerous.”
“Because you’re a girl,” said Eddie. “No offence meant.”
“I think you did mean some,” said Dorothy.
“I think he probably meant plenty,” said Jack. “But in a way he’s right. Eddie and I are used to getting into danger. It’s just about all we ever do. In fact, I can’t imagine how we’ve managed to sit for so long in this restaurant without someone trying to shoot us, stab us, or blow us up.”
“It can’t be danger all the time,” said Dorothy.
“Not all,” said Eddie. “The danger is relieved periodically by bouts of extreme drunkenness and bad behaviour. So as you can see, it’s no job for a girl. And Jack has a girlfriend anyway.”
Jack clipped Eddie lightly on the ear.
And then withdrew his fingers hastily to avoid having them bitten off.