by Kirby Larson
Once again Bimmy reached for her milk as if to sip. “It doesn’t add up. What he said.” She set the glass down, brows crinkling. “A magician’s trunk generally goes straight to the theater. Being so heavy and all.” She nibbled at a bit of piecrust. “Not to the hotel.”
“What a sharp mind!” Theo exclaimed. “Have you ever thought about immersing yourself in the natural or physical sciences?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“She thinks you’d make a wonderful scientist,” Audie clarified. “And I wholeheartedly agree.”
“I have room in my laboratory for an assistant,” offered Theo.
“You mean, come here to work?” Bimmy’s face paled.
“Not much monetary reward,” admitted Theo. “But there is always the chance to change the world.”
“Oh, I couldn’t leave Audie! And the Waywards!” Even as she voiced these declarations, Bimmy felt intrigued. A scientist! My, my. “At least not now.”
Theo smiled warmly. “The invitation is open-ended,” she said.
Cypher drained his coffee cup. His vision flickered slightly due to excessive caffeine. He blinked. Twice. Now there was the proper number of girls. “I believe we should leave the faux Mr. Oberon to the police and concentrate on the matters at hand.”
Audie was distressed to notice she had absolutely devoured every bite of her meal. There was not even the smallest bit of pie remaining. Quel dommage, as Beatrice would say. Regardless, Audie pressed on. “And what are the matters at hand?”
Cypher glanced around, lowering his voice. “I hadn’t planned on sharing this information with Miss Quinn—”
“Oh, do call me Theo.”
“With Miss Quinn. No sense causing unnecessary worry.” Cypher pulled a piece of paper from his vest pocket. “But Mr. Houdini hired me because he was worried about something along these lines.” He showed the crude letter to the girls. “He received this yesterday.”
“Bees and bonnets!” Audie surmised this was the envelope that Cypher had been given at the hotel. She read the letter, taking in the threats on the page. “Kidnap Theo? But why?”
“Given what you’ve said about the Great Oberon, I believe I can answer that.” Theo reached across the table to pat Audie’s hand. “You see, I have designed for Mr. Houdini one of his most ambitious and—if I may be allowed a modicum of conceit—most amazing illusions.” She shifted in her chair, glancing left and right. “I am the one who will help him disappear an elephant.”
Audie’s pie sat leaden in her stomach. She wrestled with a dual set of potent emotions: curiosity about such a feat and anxiety at the topic of elephants. After all, these were the very creatures that, while stampeding, had taken the lives of her dear parents.
As if intuiting Audie’s inner turmoil, Bimmy placed her hand on her chum’s shoulder.
Audie composed herself. “I saw that in the newspaper at Pennsylvania Station.” She turned to Theo. “I suppose it would violate some ancient code if you were to tell us how such a thing might happen.”
“You are wise beyond your years.” Theo swallowed her last bite of pie. “I cannot tell you. Nor will I tell anyone. Not even if I am kidnapped.” She lifted her chin and spoke firmly and bravely to Cypher. “Or worse.”
Cypher leaned forward. “Well—”
“You have nothing to worry about!” interrupted Audie. “Cypher will keep you safe. And, if I may say so, I am quite useful in kidnapping cases.”
“I am in good hands, then,” Theo declared.
Audie sat up proudly. “The best.”
“All shall be well,” Cypher assured her. “As long as you do exactly as we say.” He explained the complex plan he had concocted for keeping her safe, a plan that involved Theo joining the Pomegrantos. Their juggling rehearsals would provide the opportunity for Theo and Mr. Houdini to be at the Hippodrome at the same time. Cypher explained how Mr. Houdini had arranged for Theo to confer with him in private to finalize the illusion’s last details. At the end of his lengthy dissertation, Cypher ran a hand through his handsome dark hair. “And there is one more thing.”
“Name it!” Theo Quinn’s eyes sparkled like jewels behind her spectacles.
Cypher rubbed the bridge of his nose. Even with Mr. Houdini’s endorsement, the Pomegrantos’ act still needed to meet certain standards. “You will need to improve your juggling skills.”
Theo moved a string from her ring finger to her forefinger. “Absolutely.”
Min wiggled to freedom while the man was in the washroom down the hall. She’d feared she’d be trapped in that basket forever. First, there’d been all that commotion downstairs, and then her humans had disappeared for a goodly while. Unconfined at last, Min gave herself a good shake from nose to rump and then twitched her tail twice. The door to room 514 cracked open enough for the cat to wriggle through to the hallway. With another tail twitch the door softly closed behind her. The cat’s keen nose led her directly across the worn carpet to another door, which, with a third tail twitch, was soon ajar. Her charges, still in their travel clothes, were curled together on the bed like a litter of kittens. She sniffed around Audie and the other girl until she was reassured of their safety and well-being. They were no doubt exhausted from their long journey and that excitement in the lobby. Quite a to-do over what? A sheet and some wire? As Min had observed on countless occasions, humans have a tendency to overreact.
She leapt to the windowsill, the window itself left ajar out of habit by her best human friend. Min’s ears pricked up as she took stock of the situation. It would take five or six leaps to reach the street. With a last glance over her chocolate-striped shoulder at the girls, out she went, landing as confidently as ever on four snow-white paws.
The city smells threatened to confuse her—rat-scented steam from someplace deep below, shad and striped bass from a close-by river, and the ever-present stench of humans. Fortunately, she’d had several days on the train to get well attuned to Punk’s scent. She padded past dry goods stores, underneath fruit and vegetable displays, around street peddlers pushing carts heaped with wares, until she found the building she sought. Despite being in the shadow of the Sixth Avenue El, it loomed like an enormous perched owl, absorbing the entire block between Forty-Third and Forty-Fourth Streets. Min ducked into an entryway, Punk’s scent leading her on.
She skittered around workers carrying velvet drapes and wooden boards and lengths of rope; none seemed to see her, or if they did, chose to take no notice. She could not know that they were glad for the cat’s presence; all the feed and animal waste in the deep recesses of the theater attracted rats. And if there was one thing stage workers detested, it was rats.
Oblivious to the workers’ hopes, the cat forged ahead, motivated by one reason only: the sad aroma signaling her new friend, Punk. She turned down a dark hallway, and down a darker set of stairs. Ahead was an enormous door behind which bubbled a stew of animal scents, including that of the baby she sought.
With purpose, Min padded forward.
Only to be stopped by a snarling pair of Dobermans.
“Very nice,” Bert, the stage manager, lied at the conclusion of the family’s performance. What were they called? Bert consulted his clipboard. The Pomegrantos. Real oilcans, duds. And the show hardly needed another set of jugglers! Their costumes weren’t bad; eye-catching even, with that bright trim and lacing. No matter. If it were up to him, he’d send them packing. But Mr. Houdini asked for them special. And Bert did enjoy getting paid on a regular basis. He’d be pink-slipped for certain if he didn’t do as Mr. Houdini asked.
“I think we’ve got room for you.” Bert was practically convincing. “Real nice spot, too. Next-to-closing.” He had a feeling these greenhorns would have no idea they’d just been given the worst spot.
“Oh, thank you. Thank you!” The funny little slip of a girl with the wild auburn curls grabbed hands with her “sisters” and they all did a little jig.
Bert chewed on the unlit cigar in his mouth.
The father or brother or whoever he was should consider going out as a single—he was the only one of the act who could juggle worth beans, though the littlest girl wasn’t bad. The gal with the glasses was completely hopeless. And what gave with all those strings tied around her fingers? Absolutely off-putting. Bert made a note on his clipboard to have mops ready. The Pomegrantos were likely to be on the receiving end of some rotten tomatoes during the rowdier matinees. “Come with me to my office,” he said to Cypher. “I’ll write up your contract.”
“Wait here,” Cypher instructed the girls.
“We wouldn’t dream of going elsewhere,” Theo replied. She was completely bewitched by the ropes and pulleys backstage and found the perfect spot in the wings from which to watch the grips at work. “Fascinating,” she muttered, reaching for her notebook. She was soon sketching away, filling page after page.
The younger girls watched the remainder of the rehearsal, especially enjoying a tumbling team from England and a trained seal act; they were not as enamored of the opera singer.
Audie covered her ears as the diva hit a high C.
“When do you think Mr. Houdini will arrive?” she asked. The first run-through for the Vanishing Elephant illusion was set for that very afternoon. There were only three days till it debuted in front of thousands.
“Look there.” Bimmy tapped Audie’s shoulder. “Isn’t that him?”
The girls turned, mesmerized. The world-famous magician swooped onto the enormous stage. In his wake trotted a small terrier wearing a proud expression. Though Mr. Houdini was not much taller than Theo, he carried himself as if he matched height with Abe Lincoln. He strode, chin up, chest out, shoulders back, like royalty. And indeed he was. Royalty in the world of magicians. Mr. Will Rogers had called Houdini the greatest showman of the times.
Audie thrilled to see him in person and couldn’t wait for the opportunity to tell the Waywards all about it. She determined to write a postcard that very evening. Audie put on her warmest smile, anticipating his passing their way, speaking to Theo, though the girl scientist was completely distracted with those backstage gizmos. Perhaps Theo would introduce her “sisters” to the great man. Audie rehearsed what she might say: “It is a sincere pleasure to meet you, sir.” Would a curtsy be out of order? He was royalty, after all.
Audie cleared away her dreamy thoughts. Mr. Houdini could not acknowledge Theo! That would be folly. No one must suspect their connection. That would not only put the illusion at risk, but Theo as well.
Of course, Mr. Houdini did not stride backstage to greet Theo, and thus Audie was not formally introduced to the world-famous magician. He talked for some time and in a rather loud voice to one of the stagehands. Something about sugar cubes and wagon wheels and sufficient men to pull an elephant. Then, with a flourish, he spun away, his red-satin-lined cape swirling dramatically about him. “I’ll be in my dressing room,” he was heard to say.
Theo smoothed her skirt after tucking her notebook into a hidden pocket in the right side seam. “That’s my cue,” she said to Audie, in a low tone. “In ten minutes, I am to pretend I am delivering a note—” She pulled one such from the left skirt pocket. “And then, in the privacy of his dressing room, we will go over the latest revisions to—”
Bimmy leapt into action, landing hard on the toe of Theo’s boot. From Audie’s perspective, it appeared that Bimmy had intentionally engaged in this unkind act.
“Bimmy, dear!” Theo exclaimed, hopping on the uninjured appendage, while rubbing the smited one. “Do watch where you step!”
“Oh, hello!” Bimmy’s voice was loud and fraught with tension. She mouthed an apology to Theo all the while twitching her head backstage. Bimmy had spent much of her young life in the circus, absorbing enough to know that, in show business, large ears lurked everywhere. And Theo’s recent conversation was not for public consumption.
“How are you today?” Bimmy continued to speak to the heavy curtain.
The rumpled man emerged from behind thick velvet, blinking in the transition from dark to light. “Do I know you?” There was an undercurrent of suspicion and irritation to his question.
Bimmy froze. On her reply hinged much.
“We know your reputation,” she answered smoothly. Her glibness continued to be an inspiration to Audie. “And we’re on the bill here. Next to last.”
“Humph.” The Great Oberon could not be bothered with kid acts. And certainly not kid acts holding the least desirable spot on the bill. He fussed with his moustache in irritation.
Audie’s ear buzz caused her to recall a similar sensation on the train. A sensation she had dismissed due to railway noise. Perhaps she had been too hasty in her conclusion.
“Sisters,” Bimmy said with forced enthusiasm. “Isn’t it an honor to be in the same room with the Great Oberon?”
Theo set her injured foot down. “Oh my, yes, sister.”
“It is a genuine pleasure, sir.” Audie dipped into a curtsy, grateful for their stage makeup and garish costumes; she did not think it would be in their best interest if “Mr. Oberon” recognized them from either the train or hotel.
“Where is Bert?” was Mr. Oberon’s only reply. “We were to have an audition! Find him!”
Bimmy and Audie scurried away to obey the command, leaving Theo to limp off to her assignation with Mr. Houdini. The younger girls met Bert as he and Cypher returned from the business office where the performance contract had been signed. Bert was blowing his nose and rubbing red-rimmed eyes. Cypher wore a bewildered expression, which Audie could not read. She could not know that he was puzzling over Bert’s advice not to send their laundry out. Cypher had thanked him, of course, for the wise words, completely unaware that Bert was telling him, in vaudevillian lingo, that he didn’t think the act would even go the full week.
“Mr. Oberon is requesting an audience with you,” Audie informed the stage manager. “For the audition.”
Bert sneezed again. He knew he was allergic to cats, but was he also allergic to magicians? Why else would he be sneezing so? “Where is he?” he asked.
“Over—” Audie turned, then stopped. “Well, he was right there.” She gently shook her head. It seemed perhaps that the buzzing was dying down.
“He’ll find me.” Bert put his thumbs under his suspenders. “Don’t worry.”
“Do tell him we delivered his message.” Audie did not want any bad blood with Mr. Oberon, or whoever he was.
“He was most insistent,” Bimmy added.
Bert sneezed again and made a mental note to buy another bottle of Dr. Leo’s Breathene syrup. Those magicians: Give them a top hat, cape, and magic wand and they thought they ruled the world. “Be here for rehearsals in the morning,” he told Cypher, stifling a sneeze. “It’s a five-dollar fine if you’re late.”
“Five dollars!” Cyper exclaimed. It was becoming increasingly clear that vaudeville was a racket. Five-dollar late fees. Two-dollar union fees. Fifty cents for the stagehand memorial fund. How did a person make a living in this world? He was about to launch into a well-thought-out but pointed tirade when Audie stopped him with a tug on the arm.
“Come meet Herring.” She and Bimmy led him backstage. They passed a young man in a battered cap as he put something in his jacket pocket. Audie paused and he caught her gaze. She tugged on Cypher’s arm. Even though her ear was not buzzing, something about the young man didn’t add up. The minute she made that move, the young man was gone.
“Was there something you needed?” Cypher asked.
Audie glanced left and right. Had she really seen the lad? “No,” she said slowly. “Nothing.” She brightened. “Except for you to say hello to Herring!”
Cypher pinched his nose by way of introduction. Seals are rather aromatic creatures, what with all the fish they consume. To the girls’ delight, Herring’s trainer allowed them to serve his lunch. The seal was especially fond of herring, thus his name.
“Wayuh is Deo?” Cypher’s query through his pinched nose mad
e him sound as if he were speaking underwater.
Bimmy’s head tilted toward the dressing rooms.
“With you-know-who.” Audie wiped a bit of herring guts from her fingers. “I’m sure she’ll be along directly.”
Three of the Pomegrantos spent the next half hour getting acquainted with their fellow performers. Bimmy was especially taken with one young English acrobat named Archibald Leach, who gave her a toffee in exchange for a tumbling lesson.
The three partners were so engaged in conversation—trade talk, if you will—that there was no comment when Mr. Houdini passed by them again, that charming fox terrier at his heel. Sans cape, Mr. Houdini was less theatrical, but still Audie felt honored to be in his presence.
The great magician stood at the fringes of the gathered group, apparently too proud to join in with the lesser performers. He caught Cypher’s eye and motioned him near. Cypher complied. Audie and Bimmy followed at a discreet distance so as not to call attention.
“It’s half past two,” the great magician observed.
“Yes.” Cypher nodded. “Nearly time for the first run-through of the illusion.” He patted his pockets. Full of sugar cubes as Mr. Houdini had requested. Jennie the elephant was evidently inordinately fond of sugar.
“You seem remarkably unconcerned.” Houdini rocked back and forth on his well-polished shoes.
Cypher’s face folded into a question mark. “Unconcerned?”
Though actors and stagehands and hangers-on were milling about, causing sufficient commotion to cover the conversation, Houdini lowered his voice. “The object that was to be delivered an hour ago,” he said, eyebrow raised, as if offering a clue.
Still Cypher wore a confused expression.
Audie racked her brain to decipher the magician’s comments. Object. An hour ago. “Oh!” she gasped. “But it was delivered!”
Bimmy’s confusion now matched Cypher’s.
“Our sister.” Audie rolled her hands as if to stir her colleagues’ memories. From the corner of her eye she caught the young man, the one in the cap, again. Where had he gone? And why was he now watching them with such interest?
