Violet Tendencies, page 8
part #2 of Rose City Mystery Series
“Do you think this is a good idea?” I said to Gloria, noting the officers standing at attention, as if waiting for an attack.
“It’s tradition.” Gloria pulled a pair of fluffy red gloves over her hands and zipped up a matching red parka. “Ted refused to budge.”
How were we going to enjoy a wonderful dinner while under the watchful eye of the police? I stood on my tiptoes to see over the barricade. The crew of Dark Fusion members who had been camped out earlier were gone. Hopefully that was a good sign. Maybe the police had forced them to move out.
“Come this way,” Gloria said, pulling my arm. “Let’s see if we can get a seat near the princesses.”
Four tables closest to the waterfront had been reserved for the Royal Rosarians and the Rose Court. Gloria nudged her way to a nearly full table directly across from the princesses. “There’s room,” she said to me, sticking out her elbows to block another volunteer hoping for a seat.
I gave the volunteer a sheepish smile and sat next to Gloria.
“Aren’t they wonderful?” Gloria’s eyes landed on the princesses. She seemed oblivious to the fact that we were under police protection. I wished I shared her obsession with the Royal Court.
They wore matching white dresses that hit just below their knees, and red cardigan sweaters with name tags cut in the shape of a rose. Each princess had a single white rose pinned to her cardigan. Priscilla sat at the head of the table, wearing the same dress but in the opposite color scheme. She wore a red dress with a white cardigan, and a red rose. She exuded queen-like elegance with her flawless skin and perfect posture. Ted, who was seated next to her in his royal cape, shot her a look of approval when she scowled at one of the princesses who reached for a piece of pizza. “Not yet.” She slapped the girl’s hand. “A lady—a princess—waits until everyone has been seated before serving herself.”
The princess blushed and dropped the slice of pizza.
Nicki was handing out boxes of pizzas to the tables. There were huge bowls of green salad, salad dressing, bottles of wine, soda, and sparkling water for everyone to share. Ted stood. He clapped his hands together for attention. Everyone stopped talking and turned to listen. I kept checking over my shoulder, anticipating Dark Fusion’s arrival any minute.
“Thank you all for your incredible effort,” he said, offering the crowd a bow. His Royal Rosarian’s cape fell over his head. He had to pause to untangle himself. A few people chuckled. “This has certainly been a memorable year in the festival’s long and revered history.” He glanced to the spot where Dark Fusion had been protesting, giving a long bow to the uniformed officers. “Portland’s finest is out tonight. We won’t be silenced. We won’t allow Dark Fusion to rain on this parade! Please join me in giving our men and women in blue a round of applause for their support and protection.”
Everyone clapped.
“It’s in times like these, in times of adversity, that we come together as a city. I know that you have risked life and limb to be here and to ensure that our most beloved parade goes on as planned.”
His use of life and limb might have seemed like an exaggeration a few days earlier, but I couldn’t shake the unsettled feeling in my stomach.
Ted was just warming up. “This alfresco dinner is a highlight for our decorators. Isn’t it wonderful to have a twilight view of our lovely Willamette River?” Ted swept his arm toward the river.
Except for the wall of police officers, I thought to myself.
“We will not bend to the threat of violence. We are here to celebrate our Rose City tonight. We will not let outcasts and criminals taint our parade. We will march through the streets on Saturday morning as a symbol of good. As a symbol of justice, and a reminder of the power of community. Our message is one of unity. We will come together as one. This will be the best parade Portland has ever seen.”
His impassioned words were met with cheers and applause.
He picked up a wineglass. “A toast to you, our wonderful volunteers, my fellow Royal Rosarians, and our lovely Royal Court.”
Everyone raised a glass. Ted took his seat. Gloria dabbed her eyes with her napkin. “Isn’t he wonderful? He’s the best grand marshal we’ve ever had.”
“He’s definitely passionate about the parade.” She wrinkled her brow. “Of course he is. That’s his job.”
A woman across from us handed me a box of pizza. I took a slice and passed it on. My mood lightened a bit as we ate. Volunteers swapped stories of their time in the float-barn trenches and showed off their battle scars. I kept catching Priscilla nag at the princesses. She reprimanded them for everything from their posture to checking their smartphones during dinner. Maybe her role was to instruct them on etiquette, but she seemed to be taking things too far. After all, we were noshing on pizza on paper plates in a gravel parking lot. This was hardly a three-star Michelin restaurant.
I devoured my pizza, and enjoyed people watching. The crowd was very diverse. Volunteers of all ages and demographics chatted amicably with one another as the sun set on the opposite side of the river. The air grew chilly. Someone lit the portable heaters and a band appeared from out of nowhere.
Nicki introduced them. “We thought everyone could use a happy surprise tonight. For your enjoyment, we give you Portland’s oldest brass band.”
A twelve-piece brass band in tuxedos paraded down the path and began belting out toe-tapping tunes. The princesses shot up from their table, ignoring Priscilla’s commands to maintain their composure. They twirled around and snapped selfies. Other volunteers joined in. I wished Elin were here. Hopefully she and Eric were having a wonderful reunion. Maybe Nicki and Ted had been right to stage the dinner outside. Maybe this was exactly what we needed, a reprieve from worry and to reclaim the space.
The band played for about an hour. They were halfway through their final number when the sound of drums thundered.
“Is this part of it?” Gloria asked.
The drumming become louder and louder. It was completely out of tune with the band’s music.
I shook my head. “I don’t think so.” A sick feeling swirled in my stomach. Where were the drums coming from?
I stood. Other people had stopped dancing and were looking around for the source of the sound. Soon the sound became deafening.
Dark Fusion marched into sight. Their members had doubled in size. I estimated at least fifty, maybe closer to sixty. Half of those were pounding drums hanging from straps around their shoulders, with such force it made my hands hurt.
The band stopped playing.
Nicki and Ted sprang into action. The police officers tried to hold the marchers back, but they were no match for Dark Fusion’s numbers. There was no chance that the dozen or so officers could hold the barricade, given the sheer force of Dark Fusion.
Gloria stuffed her fingers into her ears. “What are they doing here?”
“Trying to get a reaction,” I replied, hoping that was the extent of their mission. The pounding sound of drumbeats reverberated in my head. I plugged my ears, which just made it worse.
Ted stormed to the front of the group. Nicki ran over to the police officers, who appeared to be calling for backup.
“Out!” Ted tried to shout over the sound of the reverberating drums, but it was futile.
Zigs led the march. He smacked his drum with force and ignored Ted. I scanned the group, dressed in black with bandanas masking their faces, to see if I could spot Sham, but it was too dark.
“This is terrible. Make them stop.” Gloria clenched her jaw.
Ted attempted to block Zigs with his body. He held his cape out to one side. Zigs laughed in his face and walked around him. Ted then waved for his Royal Rosarians to join him. No one moved. I couldn’t blame them. The frantic, rapid drum beats were ominous.
What else did Dark Fusion have planned?
I couldn’t be sure because my head was pounding, but I thought I heard the familiar wail of sirens over the drums.
Ted was undeterred. He caught Sham, who brought up the rear. They came face-to-face. Was this déjà vu? I wished I could hear what they were saying. Ted’s arms flew as he spoke. Sham stayed rigid. He wasn’t carrying a drum. In fact, his bulky body and posture reminded me more of a Buddhist monk. He held his hands clasped in front of him and planted his combat boots on the pathway.
“What’s taking the police so long?” Gloria shouted.
“I don’t know,” I shouted back. “I guess it’s kind of hard to get down here. There’s no easy access.”
“Should we go?” Her face was filled with concern. “What if this is the start of something bigger? They’ve been threatening us for days.”
She had a point. I didn’t want to panic. If we started to freak out, likely other people around us would too.
One of Dark Fusion’s drummers lunged at a princess. Priscilla screamed at him and raced to join Ted, who was still arguing with Sham. I had to give her credit for protecting her young protégée. Sham and Ted came nose to nose. It looked as if Sham was about to take a swing, but Priscilla stepped in between them.
Sham motioned for her to get away. The cops tried to break Sham and Ted apart, but before they could, Ted threw a punch that landed directly in Sham’s gut. He stumbled back and looked shocked. I couldn’t see Priscilla’s face, but the way she lurched backward made me think she was equally stunned or worried that Sham might come after her.
It took two officers to hold Ted back. He was surprisingly strong for someone his age. Then again, he was obviously fuming with anger.
Sham pulled Priscilla closer and whispered something into her ear. Was he threatening her?
“We need to get out of here,” Gloria said. “I don’t like this one bit.”
“I agree, but I don’t know where we would go right now.” I pointed to each side of the waterfront path. Dark Fusion members flanked the exits. “Our best bet is to wait for more police to arrive.”
Gloria shook her head. “What if they start shooting? What if they have a bomb?”
“They have a bomb!” the woman across from me shrieked.
“No.” I shook my head. “You misheard.”
But she was already waving wildly and shouting for everyone to run. “Bomb! There’s a bomb! Run!”
Panic ensued. Pizza boxes flew through the air as volunteers and Royal Rosarians stampeded. This was a disaster.
I sat and watched as little old ladies and men in regal uniforms ran in every direction. Dark Fusion continued to thud on their drums. Everything felt surreal.
More police poured in. They were dressed in riot gear and holding riot shields in front of them. They were able to hold Dark Fusion back enough to allow volunteers to escape on the east side of the pathway.
I sat, feeling dumbfounded. Maybe I should have made a break for it too. Not long ago I had been wishing that Aunt Elin were here with me; now I wished I was anywhere but here.
Chapter Nine
More officers arrived on the scene. Strobes of police lights flashed off the warehouse and above my head. A trucked marked ATF UNIT rumbled into the parking lot and officers wearing bomb detection gear unloaded a robot. Sirens stabbed the air. I sat in stunned silence, as a team of officers with bomb-sniffing dogs raced into the float barn. Some members of Dark Fusion began to disperse, but others started pounding on the police shields and tossing smoke bombs. Chaos erupted in every direction. I didn’t know where to look. It was like a bad dream. I wanted to pinch myself.
My fingers were numb. I wasn’t sure if it was from cold or fear. I tried to shake them to get blood flowing again, but it didn’t work.
I shivered and moved closer to one of the portable heaters. A couple members of Dark Fusion hurled pinecones and rocks at the police. I ducked just in time as a three-inch rock landed next to my feet.
It was like a war zone. Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion through a hazy lens.
“This is nothing!” Zigs’s familiar voice cut through the swirling violent activity around me. “Portland is ours! And we will fight!”
Sham’s heavy frame appeared like a shadow behind Zigs. He extended a burly arm and pushed Zigs and a dozen other members away from the police. “Prepare for change!” He raised a fist in the air.
What did that mean?
I had to get out of here.
I glanced behind me. My things were inside the float barn, but the bomb squad had the entire warehouse closed off. Was there a bomb in there? If Dark Fusion wanted to send a message, blowing up the float barn would certainly do just that. There would be no way to recover if they destroyed every float tonight.
I rubbed my shoulders, imagining all our hard work and beautiful floats going up in flames.
“Britta, what are you doing?” Tomo’s voice sounded behind me. “You have to get out of here!”
“Thank God.” I threw my arms around him. “Tomo.”
He hugged me back. “It’s okay.” Releasing me, he stepped back and studied my face. “Britta, maybe you should sit down. You look like you’re going to pass out.”
Words stuck in the back of my throat. I could feel every muscle in my body begin to twitch.
Tomo guided me to a nearby table and forced me to sit. “Breathe, Britta. It’s okay. You’re safe. There’s no bomb.”
My body trembled. I wrapped my arms around me and tried to rub my shoulders to stop the convulsions. What was wrong with me?
“That’s it. Slow and steady. Keep taking nice deep breaths.” Tomo’s voice had an easy lull to it, but I could see the concern in his eyes.
“I can’t get warm,” I managed to mumble. “What’s wrong with me?”
“You’re experiencing a mild form of shock, but you’re going to be fine.” Tomo reached for his walkie-talkie. “Do you want me to call over the medic?”
“No.” I squeezed my arms tighter. “No, I’m okay.”
He kept his walkie-talkie in one hand and sat next to me. I caught a faint hint of garlic. He must have been helping at the ramen shop. Instead of his standard blue uniform he wore a pair of skinny black jeans, an untucked flannel shirt, and red Chuck Taylors. A black stud earring dotted his left ear.
“You’re sure there’s not a bomb?” My teeth chattered.
“They haven’t given the official all-clear yet, but one of the guys told me the dogs didn’t find anything.”
I told him about dinner and how Gloria had mentioned a bomb and then paranoia had spread like wildfire.
“It’s like a game of telephone,” Tomo said with a half chuckle. “Do kids still play that anymore?”
“No idea.” I breathed into my palms to try to warm them. “What’s going to happen? Will you arrest everyone?”
Tomo shook his head. “No. I wish. DF’s leaders are smart. They know the law and are tiptoeing right on the line. I think this is all part of their master plan. If t you watch closely you can see that they’re being very strategic tonight. None of their leaders have done anything other than shout a few threats. We can’t arrest anyone for that. They’ve sacrificed a handful of guys—the ones throwing things and actually coming into contact with us—but if you pay close attention it’s like a choreographed performance. They want us to think this is pure chaos, but, Britta, it’s not.”
His words sent a new round of chills through my body.
“I don’t know what their end game is yet. I’m convinced that they want us to think that they’re trying to cause as much disruption as they can. They want everyone to think that this is a battle with the badges.” He placed a hand over the silver badge pinned to his chest. “It’s not. I’m telling you, something else is going down. I just wish I knew what, and how to prove it.”
We both turned as one of Dark Fusion’s members lit a T-shirt on fire and flung it toward the river.
“Like that.” Tomo sighed.
Within seconds the police had the guy in handcuffs.
“And now he gets to spend a night in jail,” Tomo said. “But look. See that guy with the mohawk and the other huge dude? They’re not part of any of the action.”
Tomo was right. Sham and Zigs were watching everything unfold from a safe distance.
“It’s crazy,” I agreed. “And so sad. Do you think the parade is going to even get to go on?”
Tomo shrugged. “It’s too soon to know.”
“Some of my favorite childhood memories are of watching the Grand Floral Parade with my aunt. I don’t understand their motivation.” My eyes drifted along the waterfront. At least ten men and women had been arrested and were lined up, awaiting transport to the police station. A few protesters were still hurling insults at the police, but otherwise it did appear that the situation was under control. I spotted Ted. He was standing next to one of the officers and pointing at Sham.
What if Dark Fusion’s obsession with the parade wasn’t about the parade, but was about the parade’s most prominent member? What if it was personal?
I started to say as much to Tomo, but at that moment Pete appeared. He had ditched his suit jacket for a navy-blue windbreaker with the word Police on the back. He paused and stared at us for a second. “I’m not interrupting something, am I?” His tone was cold.
“What?” Tomo scowled and looked at me. “No, why?”
Pete gave me a strange look and then turned to Tomo. He spoke as if I wasn’t there. “I want Miss Johnston out of here, understood?”
I pointed behind us to the barn. “But my things are inside.”
“Tomo, escort her inside to retrieve her things.” Then he gave me a hard look. “After you get your things, go straight home. Understood?” There was no mistaking the commanding tone in his voice.
I nodded. Why the shift in attitude? Pete didn’t crack a smile. Our flirty banter earlier had evaporated. Without another word he left us and went to confer with a team of officers.
Tomo stayed close to my side while I gathered my things. Police blocked each exit and were combing over every float. If they weren’t worried about a bomb threat, their actions showed otherwise.
“Are you sure there’s not a bomb?” I asked Tomo after I snagged my stuff.
