4~

The cat's attention was drawn back and forth by the motion of contented people wandering about looking for the next entertainment.

Distractions. That's what this outdoor place provided its patrons. Things to see and do in a moment's notice. Speed, one place, rest and the enjoyment of food in another. And the freedom to sample and savor it all this weekend afternoon.

For a cat, these things appealed to him very much.

For Marcie, at the moment, she couldn't understand why she drove, perhaps subconsciously, over to Fleach's Folly Factory as she stood by her car in the parking lot.

But she was here and so she decided to make the most of it.

"I must confess," Schrödinger said, walking beside her. "I didn't think you would come to a place like this."

That struck Marcie as an odd thing to say. "Why?"

"Because it's too happy and still have a gloom about you."

Marcie sighed. Cats were reputed to very observant, but leave it to her to run into one that was psychoanalytical.

"My dad owns the place and I work here sometimes, but…maybe I needed to come here to cheer myself up. Or maybe I just needed to go someplace familiar to help me think," she told him and perhaps herself.

"Indeed," agreed the Siamese as they entered the park. "You do have a lot on your mind right now."

"Yeah."

With a silent decision not to talk for awhile, they walked along the park's thoroughfares, quietly taking in the sights.

After a while, Marcie slowed down by one of the park's old-time lampposts to rest. Then the sight of a Funny Frank, the park's mascot, a giant, bunned hot dog wearing a fool's cap, cartoonishly large gloves and a perpetual grin, came strolling by her, bringing a broad, nostalgic smile to her. One Schrödinger happened to notice.

"What brought that on?" he asked.

"Funny Frank," she said. "I'd walk up and down the park in one of those suits after school sometimes. Man, those things were hot. The only ventilation came from the sight holes in the costume's smile. I always kicked myself for not modifying the suit with a mini-fan rigged to a battery pack to keep me cool on the inside."

"I feel a story brewing," Schrödinger muttered, regretting his earlier interest. Curiosity killed the cat, indeed.

"Anyway, there was this little girl who was had just came from the cotton candy stand and she decided to come over to me," Marcie continued. "So I said to her, 'Hi, little girl!' in this dumb falsetto I'm supposed to use in-character. Well, Girly decided to let me know what she was eating by taking some of the cotton candy from her mouth and slapping it on my right bun."

"I take it you weren't happy," the cat reasoned.

"I said to her, 'Hey, kid, what's the matter with you? You know how much it costs to clean these suits?' But she just turned around and headed for her folks. That's okay, though. She didn't know it, but I secretly improved her looks by taking some of that cotton candy and putting it on her hair. Then, I got the heck outta there. Good times."

Marcie gave another casual look around. The skyline of the roller coaster and tilt-a-whirl, the real estate of smaller rides nestled between the bouroughs of striped game tents and food stands were taking her mind off of rough mornings and the strange mystery she found herself in.

Although she came and worked here for as long as she could recall, there was something about the sounds of the place. She stopped walking, closed her eyes and just listened.

Schrödinger looked up in concern. "What's wrong?"

Marcie gave a deep, wistful smirk. "Nothing. Just feeling it again."

"What?"

"The sounds of the park. The chatter of the people. The sounds of the rides. Y'know, no two days ever sound the same here? It's always different, always exciting."

Then her small happiness was given the Scorched Earth treatment when realization set in. Her face suddenly fell into sad understanding.

It was moments like this that her father lived for when he came here. The crowds. The rides and entertainment. The satisfaction of the people. The fun.

Those moments, those simple, blessed moments fueled Winslow better than any drug devised. He was an entertainer. He knew it, and the park was his personal stage.

"This is his legacy," she said under her breath with melancholy. "No matter what I do with my life, this will always be a part of me. And I kept fighting him about that."

"Then perhaps a peace gesture would be appropriate," Schrödinger offered, breaking her chain of thought.

Marcie gave the cat an annoyed glance. "Eavesdropping is rude, y'know."

"My apologies, dear," said the cat. "I couldn't help it. Perfect hearing, perfect sense of smell...perfect everything, come to think about it. But that's beside the point. For whatever the reason for you fighting your father, a peace offering could smooth things over."

Marcie gave the notion some thought. It really couldn't hurt, but what to do?

While she ruminated on it, she looked around the environs of the park. She had wandered deep into the establishment and recognized that she found herself near its geographical center.

Familiar. What was near here?

Marcie turned and saw a few yards away the park's large and sole tilt-a-whirl ride, now wrapped in warning security tape and defunct, as patrons walked by.

"That's it," Marcie announced to Schrödinger. "I told Dad this morning that I would check on one of his rides that broke down." She pointed to the motionless machine. "That's the one."

They sauntered over to the ride as non-chalantly as they could by milling with those people that were walking in its general direction.

When she stopped next to the tilt-a-whirl, Marcie gave a quick look for eyes watching her, and, when satisfied that none were present, slipped through the cocoon of tape and wiggled into the dark base of the ride with a succession of moves that almost impressed Schrödinger.

Deciding to play watchcat, Schrödinger asked, "What do you see?"

Marcie twisted under the heavy mechanisms and supports, flashing her penlight around its guts to find the offending problem.

"Nothing yet. Eleanor said that the problem was...a-hah! Found it. The speed governor."

The penlight shone on the clunky device, built to regulate the rate of speed for the ride, but under slow, careful inspection, Marcie could see the fresh break of a metal component.

"Metal fatigue," she surmised. Then, as she was about to twist out of there, her eye caught something different on the break and she shined the penlight on it. The surface of the break was smooth, clean. However, it didn't run across its entirety. On the other side of the break, its surface was heavily scored and grooved, as if...

"Cut!" Marcie found herself yelling to herself. Sabotage.

She wished that she had a camera to take a shot of this incriminating proof, but decided that it wasn't going anywhere as she squirmed her body out from under the several ton machine.

Eventually, Marcie extracted herself from the tape barrier, brushed herself off and caught her breath.

"What did you find?" Schrödinger asked. "You said 'cut'."

"I think my dad's ride's been sabotaged," Marcie explained grimly. "The speed governor was cut so it could break apart and wreck the ride when it was being used. By why? Who would do that?"

The cat cocked his head at her. "Well, it seems that you are a veritable mystery magnet, but perhaps you should focus on one mystery at a time. You have yet to solve the case of the-"

The rest of the sentence was cut by the sounds of panicked patrons scattering before the sight of the hulking creature stalking in the teen and cat's direction.

"Sea Beast?" Marcie added.

"Yes, thank you," said Schrödinger, trying to keep his cool.

And finding that he was failing.