Trouble in Paradise(5)

When we got to the lobby, Erica was nowhere to be found. We walked out to the front of the hotel—didn’t see her there either. But then we heard her hiss from behind a large bush just outside the lobby door. “Get us a cab,” she whispered. “Tell him to take us to the Royal Plaza.”

Toni rolled her eyes. “What are you doing in that tree? And by the way, I’m not sick of limos, so why don’t we use one?”

“The limos work for the show. If I call one, everyone’ll know I’m out here without Tammy Susie.”

I flagged down a cab while Toni muttered under her breath about white girls and their silly TV shows.

Erica’s description of the Royal Plaza Mall as Disneyland on crack wasn’t too far off. Actually, it reminded me of Oz. Or the top tier of a wedding cake. You could probably see it from space. Ornately carved spires of bright pink lined the rooftop, and turquoise canopies suspended like eyelids over white balconies stretched across the front of the building. A huge gold dome sat at the center of the plaza. I’ve seen bigger malls, but none that were brighter. And it was situated on the waterfront, just a stone’s throw from the port. I didn’t blame Tammy Susie for liking the place.

With Erica in the lead, we headed for the shop where Tammy Susie disappeared. I looked into the stores we passed and noticed that they were largely stocked with merchandise from high-end designers. If there was a casual skirt under two hundred dollars, I sure didn’t see it.

“A nine-year-old shops here?” Bailey said.

“For an outfit she’ll never wear again?” Toni added.

“Money’s not an issue,” Erica said. “The whole family’s stinkin’ rich. Now.”

As we wound our way through the mall, it occurred to me that it would be relatively easy for a kidnapper to blend into the crowd with Tammy Susie. Because Aruba had once been the property of the Netherlands—and before that had been conquered by Spain—there was a rich mix of ethnicities everywhere you looked. From tall and blonde, like Diederik, to short and black, there was every racial permutation in abundance here. A little blonde girl like Tammy Susie wouldn’t attract any notice, regardless of who was with her—unless you recognized her famous face.

I still hadn’t ruled out the possibility that Tammy Susie had deliberately flown the coop. Being the center of a show can be a lot of pressure for anyone, let alone a nine-year-old. And Erica had said they were in their third season. But the fact that she hadn’t called in—by now it’d been about two hours—did worry me. I thought about who might have snatched her. If it was someone who recognized her, we could expect a ransom demand soon—unless it was someone who’d seen her show, pegged it as the demise of civilization as we knew it, and was holding on to her to prevent any further erosion in the collective IQ level in English-speaking countries.

On a serious note, I was even more worried about the possibility that she’d been snatched by someone who didn’t recognize her…. I couldn’t bear to think about where that scenario might end. It would be far better if this was a kidnapping for ransom. At least Tammy Susie’s people would have no problem paying up.

Finally, Erica stopped at a small boutique that featured brightly colored oceanscape and flowered clothing.

“You took her here?” Bailey asked.

It was a fair question. I didn’t see any kids’ clothing in the window.

“First of all, I didn’t take her anywhere. Tammy Susie took me here. And depending on the cut, she’s big enough to wear women’s sizes. She takes after… both sides of the family.” Translation: it was a big-boned family.

Just to lighten the mood, I cracked a little joke. “Look on the bright side, Erica. You wouldn’t have known Tammy Susie’s dress size if you’d gone to work for Scorsese.”

Erica glowered at me. Hey, they can’t all be gold. Jeez. I shrugged and we entered the store. The decorator had a penchant for sensory saturation. Caribbean music and an overly sweet scent filled the air, and every inch was packed with bright clothing and accessories. Blouses hung on the wall, pants were draped on bamboo chairs, and costume jewelry dripped fetchingly from the branches of tiny metal trees. It was no mystery why a young girl was attracted to this kaleidoscope of the senses. A small, light-skinned Hispanic girl with waist-length hair who was standing behind a glass counter smiled at us hopefully. “Can I help you?”

Erica had entered behind us, and now I felt her tugging on my sleeve. I turned. “What?”

“She’s the one who helped us. Don’t let her see me, okay?”