“They stop next to the park entrance. We can inquire if anyone saw Ginger,” she said.
It was a split second before he grasped what she’d said. “Good plan.” He might have to start reminding himself who her father was, just to keep his thoughts in order.
“Right there.” She pointed toward an opening left by a car backing out. “Park right there.”
After parking the truck, Ty walked around to hold open her door as she climbed out. Once again he let her do most of the talking, commenting only when the ticket man also gave him a lengthy stare. The man had already said he hadn’t seen any of the Nightingale sisters, so Ty thanked him and took Norma Rose’s arm, leading her toward the amusement park.
That, too, held the ticket man’s attention. He almost flipped right out of his little red booth, craning to stare as they walked away.
The Plantation nightclub, a tall white building with huge pillars at the front, was barely a block away. “Ever been there?” Ty asked.
“Years ago,” she said, “but I’ll never step foot through the door again.”
“Pretty set in your ways, aren’t you?”
“Very,” she said.
Out of curiosity, wondering how she’d respond, he curled his fingers around her gloved ones to guide her past a puddle in the sandy walkway. There was definitely caution in her eyes, but she didn’t pull away, not even after they’d entered the amusement park.
“Where’s the cotton candy?” he asked. They needed to talk to Twyla’s friend and head home. His instincts were saying he was getting too curious about Norma Rose. That he was wondering about too many things that didn’t have a place in his life, and had absolutely nothing to do with the whereabouts of her sister.
Once again, onlookers stared. His back teeth clenched. Norma Rose didn’t have two heads, or a beard, or anything else that should have people gawking at her like she was a circus sideshow.
“The cotton candy is over by the Ferris wheel.”
Her whisper made Ty glance down. She had her head bowed and her shoulders hunched, as if trying to make herself as small as possible, and red blotches covered her cheeks. Ire rippled his spine. He could shoot nasty glares at all those staring at them, but that wouldn’t make her feel any better.
Rather than acknowledging her obvious discomfort, he gestured toward a row of carnival games. “I haven’t seen one of those in ages.”
“One of what?” she asked, barely lifting her head.
“The bell-ringing machine.” Tugging on her hand, he said, “Come on, I’ll win you a prize.”
Chapter Eight
“We aren’t here to win prizes,” she whispered. “We’re here to look for Ginger.”
“And to act like we aren’t looking for her.” They weren’t going to find Ginger here, he was sure. She’d run away on her own, and didn’t want to be found. If she’d wanted to be found and had run away just for attention, she’d have left clues about where to look for her. She hadn’t. Therefore, unless someone contacted the resort, saying they knew where she was, Ty doubted they’d find her. Instinct again.
His other instincts said Norma Rose’s distress wasn’t because she was out in public with him. It had something to do with the Plantation or Forrest Reynolds. That might be another mystery he’d need to solve. When the time was right—which wasn’t today, or even this week. Running around looking for Ginger meant taking time out from setting up a snare to catch Bodine.
Ty led Norma Rose to the bell game and handed over the requested coin before he hoisted the rubber mallet. Hitting the base was an art he’d mastered at the amusement park in New York as a kid. It wasn’t to do with strength as much as it was hitting the balanced plate in the right spot. Unless someone had added weights to rig the game, or put a lock on the lever the puck traveled on, this one had the same sweet spot as every other one made.
After assuring Norma Rose was safely at the side, Ty raised the hammer over his head and let it fall on the spot he knew so well. The red puck shot up the lever and hit the bell with a resounding clang.
The little squeal Norma Rose let out as she clapped her gloved hands together excited Ty more than the echoing bell.
“You won,” she said, grinning brightly. “You won!”
Dressed like a sailor, complete with hat, the carny said, “He sure enough did.” Reaching into a box near his feet, he held up a doll that looked a lot like him. “Won a sailor Kewpie doll.”
Ty glanced at the miniature doll. Some might call it cute, but in reality, it looked cheaper than a wooden nickel. He pointed toward the shelf of snow globes inside the man’s little wooden shack. “How many times do I have to hit it to win one of those?” He’d brought home a snow globe of the Eiffel Tower to his mother when he’d returned from the war. She’d treasured it.
“Five times in a row,” the man answered. “A clam will give you five chances.”
Ty handed over a dollar bill and when the man stepped to move behind the machine, arm out, Ty shook his head. The man hunched his shoulders and stayed where he stood. The machine was rigged all right, and Ty had just stopped the carny from flipping the switch.
He hoisted the hammer over his shoulder. Five solid hits later, Ty took the snow globe the man reluctantly handed over and gave it to Norma Rose as they walked away.
“It’s beautiful,” she said.
“That’s Niagara Falls,” he told her, pointing out the waterfall scene inside the glass.
“How do you know?”
“I’ve seen it,” he said. “Many times.”
“Is it this beautiful?”
Holding the globe with both hands, she gazed into it with a rather awestruck expression. He was momentarily thunderstruck by how young and innocent she looked. And beautiful.
She lifted those amazing blue eyes to him. “Is it?”
His mouth had gone dry, and he tried to gather enough moisture to speak. “It’s far more beautiful in person,” he said, suddenly realizing he wasn’t just talking about Niagara Falls.
The rapture in those blue eyes once again turned to the globe, but not before the back of Ty’s neck grew hot. Pulling at his collar, he said, “Let’s find that cotton candy booth.”
It was only a few yards away. The booth had the longest line in the park and was made up primarily of young men dressed in stylish, colorful shirts and flat, tweed driving hats. The closer he and Norma Rose got to the booth, the more he understood why those boys were lined up. The girl selling cotton candy was more dolled up than those girls visiting speakeasies on Saturday nights.
“Is that your sister’s friend?” he asked.
“Yes, that’s Mitsy,” Norma Rose answered. “Her father owns the local drugstore.”
“That explains a lot.”
She glanced up at him, frowning.
He’d been thinking aloud, confirming his inner belief that Roger Nightingale would not encourage or allow his daughters to be friends with a girl who dressed like that. The low-cut neckline of her pink dress exposed as much skin as in the painting of the mermaid on the building behind her booth. The glitter in her eyes also hinted that Mitsy enjoyed male companionship. Searching for an answer to explain his statement to Norma Rose, he whispered, “She has on enough makeup for three women.”
“They sell cosmetics at the drugstore,” she answered.
The drugstores also needed alcohol to fill prescriptions. Ty didn’t say that aloud but it made sense. Mitsy’s father and Roger were business associates. That was why Roger allowed his daughters to associate with the man’s daughter, but Ty doubted Nightingale liked it.
“Norma Rose?” a screechy voice all but yelled. “Glory be!”
The long line of men dispersed, staring at them. Ty felt Norma Rose’s distress and placed a hand in the small of her back, ushering her past the young men.
“Imagine seeing you here,” Mitsy continued, “with a man, no less.”
Ty had to forcefully pull his back teeth apart.
“Hello, Mitsy,” Norma Rose said.
Though she sounded causal and more in control than he felt, he sensed how hard Norma Rose fought to maintain her composure.
“Oh, look, you have a snow globe,” Mitsy squealed. “No one ever wins one of those.”
Misty’s hair was dyed the same shade of red as Twyla’s. Some might think it made her look cute. To Ty, it made her look like trouble. “I won the snow globe for Norma Rose,” he said, laying a coin on the ledge. “And now I want to buy her some cotton candy. You do sell that, don’t you?”
“Of course,” she answered, all giggly. “I was just so surprised to see Norma Rose.” Mitsy plunked a stick wrapped with spun sugar off the holder and handed it through the waist-high opening of her booth. “Did you give Twyla a ride to town?” Frowning, she added, “She called and said there was something wrong with her car.”
“No, Twyla’s not with us,” Norma Rose said. “She can’t make it to town today.”
Groans echoed from the men around them, and one by one, they started walking away.
“What?” Mitsy asked. “Can’t make it?”
Ty’s nerves twitched at the men’s mumbling, which had nothing to do with cotton candy.