Audacity Jones Steals the Show

by Kirby Larson

  Divinity sat very still, contemplating the alarming news. Another one of the Waywards might have rejoiced at the letter’s contents. Freedom at last! But not Divinity. Among her many flaws was one most glaring: a distinct lack of an imagination. She had no desire to do anything more than to run Miss Maisie’s School. Someday. For now, Divinity was content to play the tyrant of the Waywards.

  She slipped the letter back into the envelope and then into her pocket, determined not to reveal its contents to a soul. She was confident Violet would never tell anyone about the letter, being so tender-skinned and all.

  Though the other Waywards had complained on many occasions to Divinity about her habit of talking aloud in her sleep, she never paid them any attention. It didn’t keep her awake, so why should she be concerned? Thus Divinity had no idea that, a few nights later while Miss Maisie’s thirteen other wards soundly slept, she betrayed herself, revealing all through middle-of-the-night whispers and mumbles.

  And Divinity also had no idea that one set of Wayward ears heard everything.

  Helmut, the elephant trainer, checked the heavy manacle around the punk’s leg.

  His assistant winced to see that the metal had already chafed a raw spot on the young creature’s flesh. “Seems a bit tight,” he commented.

  Helmut spit into the hay. “He’ll learn faster that way.” The trainer grunted. This new assistant—Jamie Doolan, was it?—had soft notions. These beasts responded best to fear, to pain, not to kindness. The sooner Jamie learned that, the better.

  The Shubert brothers, owners of the Hippodrome, had noticed the immense popularity of the Powers’ elephants and decided to have an elephant for their very own. This infant male had come on the market and they’d snatched him up, named him Baby. Helmut was to teach him to pass out programs at the front entrance. Before learning any tricks, however, Baby needed to learn who was boss. Helmut would make certain of that.

  The little elephant tugged and tugged but could not remove himself from the restraint. He sounded an alarm, struggling even harder. Helmut raised his arm, wielding the sharpened bull hook. Jamie Doolan flinched, turning his face away. He could not watch.

  Already familiar with the punishment device in the head trainer’s hand, Baby stopped his struggling.

  “See?” Helmut’s grin was more sneer than anything. “It’s the only thing the dumb creatures understand.” He tossed the bull hook to Jamie, who fumbled to catch it.

  Jamie looked around the stall deep in the bowels of the Hippodrome. “I’ll muck this out then feed him, shall I?” He’d no experience with elephants, but had worked odd jobs at the Star stables uptown.

  “Don’t you know anything?” The accusation exploded from the trainer. “No food for at least three days. He has to learn.” Helmut turned on his heel. “I’ll be tending to Jennie if you need help.”

  Trembling in his too-large boots, Jamie watched the head trainer go. He’d thought he had it bad, back there in the state home for orphans. Despite the questionable quality of the meals, at least he got fed on a regular basis.

  Baby blew a note through his trunk that sounded as sad as any Jamie had ever heard. He set the bull hook in the corner, then approached the cage slowly.

  “Buck up, Baby.” He stroked the young elephant’s trunk. “I’ll be keeping an eye on you.” From each jacket pocket he pulled an apple, which the elephant dispatched with lightning speed. Then his talented trunk tapped at Jamie’s pants pocket. Jamie laughed. “You want more, do you? Greedy little thing.” He glanced around. Helmut was preoccupied with Jennie and her sisters.

  “I’ll be back right quick,” Jamie assured the elephant. He slipped out the loading door and, there where he remembered it, he found the pushcart selling produce. Jamie haggled with the peddler and soon his pockets were full of bruised and rotting fruit, bought at bargain prices. Or so Jamie thought.

  “Always glad to do business with a schlemiel.” The peddler tipped his cap.

  “Good day to you, too!” Jamie replied, unaware he’d been insulted. He hurried back with his purchases. He’d have to be sly about feeding Baby, but Jamie was used to being sly. That was one skill he’d perfected in the orphanage. With luck, Helmut wouldn’t know a thing.

  Baby downed the rutabagas and oranges and carrots with enthusiasm. Between each course, he exhaled happily, flapping his ears. Without even realizing it, Jamie sang “Hush Ye, My Bairnie” as the baby elephant ate. The tune came natural, it did. Though his da was Irish, his ma was Scottish. She was the one to sing lullabies to him. And it was with that song he used to lull his baby sis to sleep, before …

  When Baby had eaten every last bit of flesh, seed, and rind, he wrapped his trunk around Jamie’s arm, as if to pull him into the cage.

  “I’ll use that hook on him.” Jamie tossed his head in Helmut’s direction. “If he ever even thinks of taking it to you again.”

  Then he grabbed a shovel and, whistling, mucked out Baby’s stall.

  A crowd gathered around the rumpled man in brown, whom Audie now recognized from the train.

  “What’s missing?” someone asked.

  “Has anyone called the police?” interjected another voice.

  The large lady waved her enormous arms. “Give the poor fellow some air!” There was sufficient authority in her voice and girth that the crowd ebbed, and the rumpled man stood alone in the center, like the cheese in “The Farmer in the Dell.”

  To Audie’s surprise, Cypher did not step forward to offer professional assistance; rather, he edged away from the commotion. She took a cue from his behavior, towing Bimmy with her.

  “Take a breath,” the large lady suggested. “And start at the beginning.”

  The man shuddered, a bit overdramatically to Audie’s mind. But these were theater people after all; perhaps that was to be expected. “I was gathering my props for an audition.” He smoothed his luxurious imperial moustache with a trembling hand. “At the Hippodrome.”

  The crowd murmured appreciatively at this honor.

  Someone handed the man a glass of water, which he gratefully accepted. Sipped. Spoke again. “Then I was called to the telephone, on the second floor.”

  “They need phones on every floor,” someone grumbled.

  The man continued, patting his forehead with a dingy handkerchief. “It had to have happened while I was taking the telephone call. My trunk hasn’t been out of my sight otherwise.”

  “What was taken?” one of the acrobats asked, evidently eager to get to the punch line.

  “Everything!” The man drained the glass, and water beaded up the fringes of his moustache. “At least, everything I need for the Asrah Levitation. What am I to do?”

  “Your signature trick!” The large woman’s hand flew to her ample bosom in shock.

  A murmur wobbled its way through the crowd.

  The Great Oberon nodded slowly, solemnly. “I suspect a fellow magician,” he confessed in a tone veering on tragic. “Jealous of my audition at the Hippodrome.”

  “Lemme through!” A beat cop weaved through the crowded lobby, clearing a path to the Great Oberon. “Back about your own business,” he commanded, pushing the odd performer this way and that. “Are you the fella’s missing a cape?”

  “Not a cape.” The Great Oberon tugged his waistcoat, insulted. “The props for my grandest illusion.”

  The policeman gave him a funny look.

  “Trick,” clarified Oberon. “I make my assistant levitate.”

  Again the policeman looked puzzled.

  “I make someone float in midair.” The Great Oberon threw his hands up in exasperation.

  “Oh, do you now? That might be worth the price of admission.” The officer cocked his head. “You’d best come with me and tell my sergeant all about it.” At that instruction, the Great Oberon fetched hat, gloves, and overcoat and then followed the policeman out of the hotel.

  “How terrible,” Audie said. “Stealing someone’s trick like that.”

  Bimm
y was uncharacteristically quiet. Audie reminded herself that her best chum was new at this adventure game. She was bound to feel overwhelmed and out of her league, the poor thing.

  “It’s a competitive business,” explained Cypher. “And it actually illustrates why we’ve been hired.” He corrected himself. “Why I’ve been hired to—”

  “Keep an eye on me,” a pleasant voice finished.

  Cypher’s face paled at the sight of the young woman at his elbow, dressed in a crisp white bodice and gored navy wool skirt. She held out an ink-stained hand. Audie counted six bits of string tied around assorted fingers. “Theodora Quinn,” she said, by way of introduction. “But do call me Theo.”

  Cypher was grateful the bellman had not yet taken their bags up. He was going to need the headache powders in his valise. Perhaps a double dose. This was not part of the plan. In fact, this young woman wasn’t to have known she was being … watched. How did she find out? And how did she find him? Mr. Pinkerton was not going to be happy about this. Not in the least bit. Nor was Mr. Houdini.

  Perhaps they’d take him back on at the White House.

  Cypher cleared his throat, glancing around the still bustling lobby. “I assume you are the young woman who will be auditioning for our troupe?” he asked.

  “Well, Mr. Hou—”

  “Zut!” As if from thin air, Cypher conjured a trio of silk scarves and tossed them to the young woman.

  Audie blinked. How could a person’s hands move that fast?

  Miss Quinn caught the scarves in a messy clump. “Zut?”

  “It’s a circus phrase,” Bimmy explained. “It can mean ‘Are you ready?’ or ‘Let’s go!’ ” She pressed her palms together, thinking. “Or just about anything, really.”

  “Of course, as a performer yourself, you are well aware of that,” Audie said brightly.

  “We have very high standards,” Cypher continued. “We would not want someone inexperienced holding us back.”

  Gamely, the young woman tossed the scarves into the air, one after another.

  “Oh, very good,” Audie cheered, when she saw that neither Bimmy nor Cypher was going to encourage Miss Quinn. Who, clearly, had not sought them out with the intent of auditioning for a role in the Pomegrantos. Though brief to date, Audie’s experience with the rescue business had been lengthy enough to recognize when someone needed saving. Case in point: Miss Quinn. And why was that scruffy-looking man with the fantastically large nose lurking behind the potted philodendron? He seemed to be taking a great interest in the current conversation.

  “Is there somewhere quiet we can go?” Audie asked. “To continue the … audition?”

  Cypher bristled at Audie’s apparent attempt to take charge of the situation. Then he, too, caught sight of the nosy man. “I have identified a café around the corner that will provide some privacy.”

  “Brilliant!” Theo exclaimed. “Because I’m starving. I completely forgot to eat yesterday.” She reflected a moment, her chocolate-drop eyes large behind the round spectacles a bit askew on her nose, as she studied the wiggling fingers she held up in front of her face. “And perhaps this morning as well.”

  After a short walk to the café, the party was soon seated in a booth, lunches ordered for all except Cypher, who merely drank coffee. Many cups. When the food arrived, the girls tucked in. Audie herself was famished, but did offer Cypher a bite of her apple pie à la mode, which he declined.

  “Quite right,” Audie conceded. “Not as tasty as anything Beatrice whips up.”

  Cypher did not comment.

  The girls’ mealtime conversation was lively and educational, thanks to Theodora Quinn.

  “You are a whiz!” Audie’s head was spinning from Theo’s explanation of her latest experiment. Something to do with light and refractions.

  “I can take this off since I’ve now eaten. Though I could manage a second piece of pie.” Theo removed a string from one finger. “I am a whiz at many things,” she admitted without a hint of boastfulness. “Things scientific. But people completely mystify me.” She picked up a piecrust crumb with her forefinger and put it in her mouth. “Mr. Houdini, for example. I am a nobody. Why would he hire you to protect me?”

  “I cannot imagine whatever gave you that idea.” Cypher did his best to don a shocked expression.

  “Not whatever.” Theo arched her brow. “Whomever. As in Mr. Houdini himself.”

  Cypher blanched. Why on earth would his employer reveal such information? “I am not at liberty—”

  “Maybe Mr. Houdini felt Theo’s being fully informed was her best protection?” Audie suggested.

  Another small dose of headache powders disappeared into Cypher’s mouth. “It would be much more efficient if those not involved in the safety and security business left it to those of us who are so involved.” That was the last critical thing he would say of Mr. Houdini. Though Cypher could foresee himself thinking a great many more.

  “But I’m a scientist,” Theo protested. “From whom could I possibly be in danger?”

  Cypher’s only answer was to take another sip of coffee. When the waitress refilled his cup, he ordered another slice of pie for Theodora Quinn.

  Audie felt she must show the more cooperative side of their team. “I do not mean to alarm you, but there are those in Mr. Houdini’s profession who will resort to drastic measures to ensure their own success. Why, moments ago, the Great Oberon was a victim of an unthinkable robbery. Likely committed by a jealous competitor. Isn’t that right, Bimmy?”

  “About that—” Bimmy began.

  “The police did not confirm the robbery,” Cypher cautioned. “Take care when it comes to the word of a vaudeville performer.”

  “A robbery?” Theo Quinn pushed her spectacles up the bridge of her nose. “What was pilfered?”

  Audie pondered Cypher’s remark. “You mean it might be like the time Miss Maisie was certain her butterfly brooch had been stolen and all the while it was behind her dressing table?”

  Cypher rubbed his temples. This conversation was rapidly sliding out of his control. “May I repeat—”

  “A prop for his most important trick,” Audie explained to Theo. “His signature illusion.”

  “About that—” Bimmy began again.

  Cypher slapped his hand on the café table. Dishes rattled. Diners around them stared. Cypher inhaled. Composed himself. “No more robbery talk.”

  Bimmy also inhaled, sitting up in her seat. She edged a bit closer to Audie for security and support. “There is one thing I should say on the topic.”

  The waitress approached with a slice of pie.

  Cypher’s hand waved “no.”

  “Oh, you didn’t want this after all?” the waitress said.

  Cypher groaned.

  “Here, please.” Theo patted the space in front of her. “Oh, cherry. My favorite!”

  “Dear Cypher,” Audie pleaded. “Do let Bimmy speak her mind.” She noticed her good friend had eaten around her meal, not of it. And she hadn’t even touched a bite of dessert. Though not up to Beatrice’s standards, the meal on the whole was quite enjoyable. This lack of enthusiasm was not like Bimmy, who generally had a hearty appetite.

  Cypher gritted his teeth and sat back. He was going to have to stock up on headache powders. There was no doubt about it. Fortunately, he’d seen a pharmacy on the opposite corner. “Go on, then.” A muscle in his jaw twitched.

  Bimmy tugged on the dark curl over her right ear. “Oberon wasn’t robbed.”

  “You see, I warned you about jumping to conclusions,” Cypher said.

  “Oberon wasn’t robbed because that wasn’t Oberon.” Bimmy put her hands in her lap.

  Audie’s fork clattered to her plate. “What?”

  Cypher closed his eyes, as if in prayer. “Ladies, if I may—”

  “Oh, this is so thrilling!” Theo clapped gleefully. “I must get out of my laboratory more often.”

  Bimmy glanced at Audie and then at Cypher. “Do you rememb
er in the cab I told you Oberon and I had performed in the same circus?”

  “Oh yes!” Audie’s eyes sparkled with the memory. “He gave you a rabbit. Which you set free in the woods.”

  “Clever girl,” Theo approved. “Animals deserve to live in their natural environments. I myself once rehabilitated a small barred owl. Though it does return to my window from time to time, it seems to have fully embraced its natural state. Quite remarkable, really.”

  Cypher rubbed at his temples with vigor. “This is all fascinating, but might we return to the subject at hand?” Keeping a conversation on track with these three was more difficult than herding camels!

  “Yes. Well.” Bimmy rearranged her silverware just so. “At first, I hesitated to say anything. You see, it’s not uncommon on the circuit for performers to fill in for one another. Once when Papa contracted the influenza, Monsieur Reynaud took over. Though he wasn’t as handsome as Papa or as skilled at aerobatics, the audience did not know the difference. Mr. Oberon often suffered from something Mama and Papa called the ‘bottle flu.’ There were many, many times he could not perform because of this illness.” Bimmy reached for her milk glass and sipped. “So it wouldn’t be that unusual for another magician to step in for the Great Oberon and assume his role.” She glanced from Audie to Theo to Audie again. “It happens more often than you might realize, especially on the road.”

  “Completely fascinating.” Theo took out a small notepad. “And no one ever notices these substitutions?”

  Cypher stirred another spoonful of sugar into his coffee, clicking the spoon energetically against the cup. He had been about to ask that very question. And he said so.

  “No.” Bimmy shook her head. “Since we’re often only in one town for a day or so, it’s not likely anyone in the audience would know whether the Great Oberon was tall or short, fat or thin.” Her shoulders slid ear-ward. “A good performer can don another persona as easily as one dons a costume.”

  “But, Bimmy, dear,” Audie interjected. “Something must be different about this substitution. Or why would you even note it?”