The Unbelievable Oliver and the Sawed-in-Half Dads Page 6

  As the chef walked out, Oliver could see the massive cake, in all its frosted glory, sitting in the open fridge.

  “I guess nobody will notice if I take one bite . . .”

  Oliver walked as if in a trance, not stopping until his nose was almost touching the multitiered, multiflavored mountain of his dreams. He decided he would take a sliver—just the tiniest morsel—from the bottom, where no one would ever look.

  Cupping his hand, he attempted to scoop a handful of cake. He hoped the layer would be chocolate.

  But it wasn’t chocolate—or any other flavor. Under the frosting, the cake was rock solid.

  It was a fake cake.

  Why bake a fake cake? Did someone make a mistake?

  He stepped back and examined the cake with a critical eye.

  “Benny, how many tiers was this cake supposed to have?”

  “I don’t know,” grumbled the rabbit. “But if you don’t hurry up, I’m going to start shedding tears of boredom.”

  Oliver wiped away a circle of frosting where he’d tried to get his piece. Underneath was a shiny black surface. He knocked on it. It sounded hollow. He knocked again. This time something very strange happened.

  The cake knocked back.

  Oliver’s eyes lit up. “Benny, I figured it out!”

  He had cracked the case. Now all he had to do was crack the cake.

  Cutting the Cake

  The chef didn’t believe that there was a man inside.

  “A lot of people try to get me to give them a taste,” she said, grinning. “But it’s the first time I’ve heard that one.”

  “Please don’t take the cake away,” Oliver begged. “I swear there’s a man trapped inside it.”

  “Sorry, we have to get it out to the floor. The baker said to let the cake chill for two hours, then take it out for viewing. That goes for anybody inside the cake too.”

  “Please don’t take the cake away!” Oliver shouted as they took the cake away. “It’s one of the grooms!”

  “Oliver, calm down,” Benny said. “Have a cookie to tide you over. You’ll get cake later.”

  “I can’t calm down,” Oliver said. “Simon is inside the cake! I heard him!”

  “Oh, why didn’t you say so? That explains everything!” said the rabbit, who had seen plenty of Vegas performers jump out of cakes. “Seems a little funny for a wedding, but to each his own. So when is he jumping out? When’s the big reveal?”

  “A reveal! Great idea, Benny! We’ll make it another magic show.”

  Oliver found Bea and Teenie on the stage steps, comforting Miguel.

  Behind them, rows of seats had been set up in two sections with an aisle down the middle. Guests stood around, talking awkwardly, pretending not to notice that one of the grooms was crying.

  “Your father—you can’t rely on him for anything!” Miguel said, sobbing. “I just saw him a moment ago in his suit, and now his suit is back on its hanger and he’s gone! Is he really leaving me alone at the altar?”

  “Don’t worry, we have good news, Papa! Daddy didn’t leave you . . . Or not on purpose,” Bea qualified.

  “He never does anything on purpose,” their papa blubbered.

  “He was kid—dad-napped,” said Teenie.

  “That’s your good news?” asked Miguel, mid–sniffle.

  “Well,” said Bea, “it is if you pay the ransom.”

  “Ransom?! Did he put you up to this?”

  Bea shook her head. “What if we told you that Dad could reappear for two or possibly three hundred dollars?”

  They were about to show Miguel the ransom note when Oliver arrived with a counteroffer.

  “I can make Mr. Simon reappear for free,” said Oliver breathlessly, wand in the air. “With magic!”

  Bea and Teenie left their father’s side to confer with Oliver.

  “Oliver, Papa is really upset about Dad,” Bea said, not quite out of her father’s earshot. “I don’t think magic is going to cheer him up.”

  “He has to pay all that money,” said Teenie. “Or else get used to being a single parent.”

  “Not that being a single parent is bad,” said Bea. “Your mom seems really good at it.”

  “And you seem pretty good with Benny,” said Teenie.

  “No, you don’t understand,” Oliver said. “We just have to cut the cake and everything will be okay!”

  “Um, Oliver, we know you like cake, and we do too, but it doesn’t solve everything,” said Bea.

  “Plus, even if it makes you feel better for a little while, you crash from all that sugar,” said Teenie, clearly speaking from experience.

  “No, just listen to me for a sec . . .” In a rushed whisper, Oliver explained what he’d discovered.

  The twins’ eyes grew wide. “And the baker seemed so nice! I guess you can never tell!”

  Smiling, they gathered everyone around the cake, which now sat near the bar.

  Oliver shushed his rabbit before stepping in front of the very large crowd.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, friends and rabbits,” said Oliver in his best magician voice. “As you see, this is a somewhat non-traditional wedding . . . because we’re serving the dessert first. It’s time to cut the cake!”

  Getting a few reluctant laughs, Oliver shifted the mood and held up the saw.

  “Brilliant Bea and Tremendous Teenie, will you divide the cake in half? Or however you think is fair.”

  The twins gripped the handles of the saw. They moved it back and forth across the surface of the cake, until they found a spot they could agree on. Then they went to work.

  Now that the cake was cut in half, all the layers were revealed.

  “May I have a few volunteers to taste the flavors?” Oliver asked.

  He volunteered to go first.

  “Hmm, that’s funny,” said Oliver as the others finished tasting. “Something is wrong with the last layer.”

  He wiped away some frosting, and tapped his wand on the solid bottom section of the cake. “Mom, can you help?”

  “I told you, Oliver, I’m on vacation.”

  “But this will be a piece of cake!” Audience members laughed nervously. What was this boy doing? “Do you have your stethoscope?”

  Diane looked confused, but she took out her stethoscope from her bag. Even on vacation, she was prepared for medical emergencies.

  “I guess you can’t hurt yourself too much with this,” she said, handing it to her son.

  Oliver placed the stethoscope’s bell on the hard wooden surface of the coffin. It was just as he’d suspected.

  “Phew,” he said to himself. There was a lot riding on this last trick—including a marriage and a family and his reputation as a magician.

  He handed the stethoscope back to his mother, who listened as well.

  “This cake . . . This cake has a heartbeat!” his mother cried in astonishment.

  Shifting into nurse mode, she pushed half the cake away. “We have to get this patient to surgery stat!”

  Teenie was lucky to catch an armful of cake, along with a faceful of icing.

  Resisting the urge to take some of the cake for himself, Oliver finally opened the lid of the coffin.

  Simon sat up, blinking under the multicolored wedding lights. He looked dazed, but relatively unharmed. Aside from the worm-patterned necktie tied around his mouth.

  It was a big reveal indeed. The audience burst into applause.

  Simon’s daughters stared at him in amazement.

  “Dad—there you are!” Teenie hugged her father.

  “We thought you hated the magic show!” said Bea. “Who knew you were the grand finale!”

  Oliver’s mother shook her head. “I must say you’re a good sport letting my son bury you inside a cake like that,” she said to Simon.
“I would never put up with it myself.”

  Still gagged, Simon made a muffled sound of protest.

  “Sorry, I can’t understand you with that silly tie in your mouth,” said Diane, leaving the stage. “Who wears a worm tie? And on their wedding!”

  Miguel ran over. “Oh, so now you decide to come out of hiding? No, don’t say anything! You can apologize later. If we get married right this second, there will still be enough light outside to take pictures before dinner!”

  As Miguel wheeled his husband-to-be toward the aisle, everyone stood and clapped even louder. What a way to begin a wedding!

  Even Maddox seemed impressed. “That’s the only way I’m ever getting married!”

  “A standing ovation!” Benny marveled. “Kid, this cake trick is a keeper!”

  Oliver grinned and grabbed a celebratory handful of cake.

  The processional music began right on time: “This Must Be the Place” by the Talking Heads.

  Bea and Teenie looked at each other in a panic. “Flowers!”

  They’d been so involved with their detective work, they’d forgotten their most important jobs, flower scientist and flower assassin.

  “Where are we going to find flowers now?” asked Bea.

  Benny held up his paw.

  Oliver suddenly remembered his job as well. “What about the rings?!”

  Oliver grinned. “I knew those would come in handy.”

  “Oh, no, Papa is pulling the gag off Daddy’s mouth,” moaned Teenie when they joined their fathers under the canopy.

  “What’s wrong with that?” asked Bea.

  “It means they’re going to kiss!”

  “Oh, no—let’s not look!”

  The Reception

  The ceremony could not have gone better, at least in this family it could not have gone better. Oliver accidentally locked the magic rings together, but at the twins’ suggestion, their fathers exchanged neckties instead, which everyone agreed was much more romantic. Sadly, in the chaos, no flowers were assassinated or scientifically studied; they were merely enjoyed.

  Then, at last, came the family photos. Using a timer and a tripod to square his shots, Miguel hurried back into frame for each picture. It made for some funny faces, but the late-afternoon light was fantastic.

  “Don’t worry, there’s no need to apologize for missing the original portrait time,” Miguel said to his new husband. “We can talk about it later.”

  “Why should I apologize?” asked Simon. “There was no way I could make it.”

  “It’s crazy the lengths people go to avoid having their picture taken,” Miguel muttered.

  “For now just say ‘SORRY’ for the camera,” he shouted through his teeth. “Say ‘SORRY,’ everybody!”

  From photos, they went straight into dinner. Half the crowd had spoiled their appetites on cake, so dinner went fast.

  Speeches came next.

  After their grandparents, it was the twins’ turn.

  “And now the reason we’re all here today,” Simon said. “They were the first to propose this marriage. Please welcome our daughters—”

  “Dad, you don’t know our new names.” Bea handed her father a note.

  “‘The Brilliant Beatriz and the Tremendous Teenie,’” Simon read.

  The crowd burst into applause. Once again, Bea and Teenie stole the show.

  “Thank you, thank you!” they both said.

  “This wedding really was a great idea, wasn’t it?” the twins concluded. “Glad we thought of it. Cheers to the grooms, Daddy and Papa.”

  As glasses clinked in the air, dinner concluded. It was the traditional time for cake, or it would have been in a more traditional wedding.

  Knowing this, Jacques Fondant arrived. For a work of art this size, he thought it best to cut the cake himself.

  Instead, he found Simon’s father, sidled up to the bar.

  “Excuse me,” he said. “I’m the baker, and I’m looking for the wedding planner.”

  “Sorry, I don’t know from wedding planners,” said Grandpa Bruce. “I’m the crime buster is what I am. And you’re coming with me, buddy.”

  Having served forty years on the force, he had no problem guiding the large baker to the sweetheart table, where Simon and Miguel sat in front of their guests.

  “There you are!” Miguel pointed his finger at the baker. “Why’d you bake my husband into a cake?”

  Jacques Fondant was confused. He’d baked a giant cake for both the grooms. He’d added a lot of buttercream and love, but he didn’t bake anyone into it.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jacques said. “I just came back to help you cut the cake.”

  He looked around. “But I see you already cut it. Did you release the dove?”

  “What dove?” said Miguel. “We asked for a simple five-tiered cake, and instead you gave us ten tiers. One of which was my husband.”

  The baker was still confused. “But I only made nine tiers. Lavender Vanilla. Original Orange. Raspberry Rampage. Blueberry Velvet. Cherry Lollipop. Burnt Caramel. Extra-Dark Chocolate. Raw Cookie Dough. Oh, and Coconut Countdown. Ten tiers—who could eat that much?

  “See—” The baker pointed at the decimated cake. It was clear that the top nine tiers were just as described.

  “But what is this tier at the bottom?” He swiped the bottom tier with his finger and tasted the frosting.

  “Cool Whip!” he exclaimed in horror. “On a Jacques Fondant cake?! When I handed this cake to the wedding planner, there was no bottom tier. No husband. And most definitely no Cool Whip.”

  “But we didn’t even have a wedding planner!” protested Miguel.

  “Yes, we did it all on our own,” Simon said. “Well, Miguel did. I was stuck in the bottom of your cake. Somebody hit me over the head and shoved me inside.”

  Oliver looked at the bottom tier of the cake, wondering who put Simon inside it.

  The last tier was a wooden dolly, barely disguising the sawed-in-half coffin. It was only an illusion: a trick.

  Suddenly, Oliver had a thought.

  “Wait,” Oliver said. “You said something about a dove. Was it the wedding planner’s? Did he also have a mustache and a monocle?”

  “Yes,” said the baker. “And very full of himself he was too.”

  Suddenly, it all made sense. The identical boxes, the ransom poem, the stolen groom, it was all the Great—

  Wooden boards clattered and paper flowers flew as the wedding canopy collapsed under the weight of a single, well-fed dove.

  Oliver pointed his wand at the frightened Zoocheeni. “Stop that magician!”

  The wedding attendees looked from one magician to the other. They hadn’t known there were two magicians at the wedding. One seemed more than enough.

  With a poof of smoke, Zoocheeni and Paloma raced toward the exit.

  But they weren’t fast enough to avoid Simon’s father, who tripped Zoocheeni with his cane and applied handcuffs to both the bird and the magician in one well-practiced motion.

  “There’s no such thing as a retired cop.” Simon’s father sighed. “Kids, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to take this fella downtown.”

  “Sorry you’ve got to go, Pop!”

  “Yeah, Dad, don’t go!”

  Simon and his sister Margie both made less than convincing attempts to stop their father from leaving.

  Spencer had already brought the car to the valet station, siren blaring. He wasn’t about to pass up another chance to drive the police cruiser.

  Grinning, he opened the door for Grandpa Bruce and the unhappy prisoners.

  “Of course, it was Zoocheeni,” said Bea as the police car disappeared through the Hauntington gates. “We should have thought of him immediately. He must have left the ransom poem and the ransom greet
ing card. But then who left the ransom text on your phone?”

  “What ransom text?” asked Simon.

  “The one that said you were in cold storage.”

  “I think it was the baker,” volunteered Oliver. “He was talking about the cake.”

  “I wasn’t asking you! But I admit that might make sense.”

  “What about Mexico?” said Teenie. “We thought you were going without us. We were so mad!”

  “Oh! I almost forgot about Mexico,” said their dad. “Where’s the piñata I ordered?”

  His daughters looked at him skeptically. A piñata was not the same thing as going to Mexico.

  The piñata was still lying under the tree.

  “Wait, does anyone have a stick to hit it with?” Simon asked, pulling the rope to lift the paper llama off the ground.

  Miguel grabbed one of the posts that had held up the wedding canopy and handed it to his new husband.

  The twins took the first turns attacking the spinning piñata, neither bothering to wear a blindfold.

  “It better have the good candy,” Teenie said.

  “Yeah, don’t try to get Smarties with us,” said Bea.

  “What’s wrong with Smarties?” asked Oliver, taking the stick from them, and missing the piñata completely.

  “Let’s just hope there aren’t any more fathers hidden inside,” said Miguel.

  One after another, their classmates took turns whacking the piñata.

  Then Miguel, who still had a lot of pent-up energy but no more patience, grabbed the stick. With a final swing from Miguel, the piñata split open.

  The kids rushed forward.

  For nothing. There wasn’t any candy at all.

  Instead, a lone envelope dropped to the ground.

  “Where’s the candy, Dad?” Bea asked accusingly.