The Bone Puzzle: The Saga Begins

by Clayton E. Spriggs

  The cobra rose from the basket, spreading the skin on its head as if poised to strike and inject its deadly poison at any moment. The charmer appeared unfazed by the threat within arm’s reach, and he continued to play the hypnotic melody as the snake danced to the rhythm. Without warning, the charmer reached out and slapped the cobra’s head. The crowd held its breath at the sheer lunacy of the action, but the snake did not respond and continued to dance. The charmer repeated the action twice more to prove his point. When he abruptly stopped playing, the snake fell back into the basket.

  The audience cheered as the swami put a lid on the receptacle, took a bow, and exited the stage. Richard clapped with the crowd and saluted the man as he left.

  Turning back to the audience, Richard said, “Amazing, isn’t it? I wished to learn the great secrets that could tame the mighty cobra, but alas, I was halted by an unforeseen impediment.” He nodded to the wings and Lacey appeared as Natalia, took a bow, and ran to Richard’s side to hand him a pungi of his own. She took a step to the side and covered her ears with her hands as the magician blew into the flute. A horrible screech emanated from the instrument.

  “A lack of musical talent,” he finished. The crowd roared with laughter. “Fortunately, I was able to overcome my deficiency of this highly prized ability with my knowledge and skills of illusion.”

  Lacey ran off to the wings and returned with a basket identical to the one that held the cobra. She handed the basket to the magician and took the pungi, taking care to hold it away from her at a distance as if it were infected with a deadly communicable disease. Richard frowned at his assistant’s antics and chided her. “It’s not the flute’s fault, my dearest Natalia, for only a poor musician blames his instrument.” The gypsy girl rolled her eyes and shook her head, eliciting a few chuckles from the audience.

  Richard gingerly slipped the lid off the basket and carefully peered inside. Once he was certain that it posed no danger, he gave an exaggerated sigh of relief and held the basket on its side in the direction of the crowd so that they could see that it was empty.

  “Luckily, there are no king cobras inside of this basket.”

  “How come?” someone in the audience shouted.

  “I’m a magician, not an idiot,” replied Richard.

  “You’re just chicken,” the heckler returned the taunt.

  “I am the Amazing and Magnificent Villanova, not the stupid and dead ex-magician,” Richard said. “But, if you insist—” he stammered as he reached his hand into the empty basket without looking while glaring in the direction of the unwelcome heckler. “Does this make you happy?” he asked, pulling out his hand, this time clutching a handful of wiggling serpents.

  The crowd gasped with horror. Richard pasted a confused expression on his face and looked over at what he was holding. He swayed as if he were going to pass out from fright, only to take a deep breath and compose himself.

  “Whew! I almost scared myself to death,” he explained. “Don’t worry, these aren’t cobras. They’re merely rope snakes.” Richard stuffed the irate reptiles back into the basket and added, “See for yourselves!” Without warning, he flung the container in the direction of the audience, and long, serpentine objects flew into the first few rows of the audience. Shrieks erupted from the people near the front as they jumped out of their seats in a panic. Laughter and applause soon replaced the screams when those individuals held up strands of rope.

  “I am the Amazing and Magnificent Villanova!” exclaimed Richard, taking a bow. The ovation was deafening. Things could not be going any better for the magician. His hard work had paid off. He could smell money in the air. Now, for the finale.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  The lights dimmed, and moments passed while the audience settled down. The rhythmic beating of conga drums resonated in the air.

  A warm green glow emerged from the back of the stage, illuminating two incredibly tall African drummers, one in each corner. The two men were dressed in full witch doctor regalia, complete with makeup and bones protruding from their noses. The sounds of unseen jungle creatures echoed from the rafters, adding to the exotic atmosphere.

  A spotlight lit up the center of the stage to unexpectedly reveal the magician, as if he’d materialized out of thin air. His voice boomed above the din of the drums.

  “I once traveled through the forbidden realms of the Dark Continent. Such wonders I saw! Those miraculous sights were only surpassed by the dangers that stalked my entourage. Of the twenty-three souls who set out from Cairo, I was the only one to return. But I did not return the same, and I did not return alone.”

  “Yeaaaaah!!! Molo holo buli muli!” shouted a third African, jumping onto the stage. He was wearing a loin cloth made of zebra skin, and he carried a long spear. Around his neck hung a necklace made of crocodile teeth. On his head, he wore a wooden mask of grotesque proportions.

  The man danced to the primitive beating of the drums, occasionally blurting out Swahili-like mumbo-jumbo as if he were performing some ancient and forbidden tribal ritual.

  “Deep in the jungles of the Congo lives a tribe of people with notoriously horrifying disposition. To travel to such a place is not only difficult, it is dangerous. Our expedition made that mistake, with disastrous results.”

  “Yeaaaahh! Molukoluki mayo! Sensa pari mo!” the witch doctor shouted as he danced around the stage.

  “They came out of the shadows of the dense rainforest, surrounding us like spirits from the netherworld. But they were not spirits; they were very real. And as we soon found out, very hungry.”

  “Buta buta goola hayo! Yah!”

  “We offered them what little rations we had left, but they preferred a different sort of nourishment. Our guides would not translate their requests, but it didn’t take long for us to realize that we were on the menu.”

  “Juju carasi hazo mutibi!” the witch doctor held his spear in a menacing fashion, circling the magician in an aggressive, but cautious, manner.

  “One by one, they took us to their fire pit, until only I was left. I remember it well. It haunts me still.”

  The beating tempo of the drums increased, accompanied by the calls of exotic birds and the growls of an unknown predator. Tension rose in the theater.

  “At last, they came for me. The tribe looked at me, a white man, with disgust, with hatred. Worse yet, they looked at me like I was dessert. I knew I had to think fast, so I gathered what was left of my courage and dug deep into my knowledge of magic. It was then that I conjured up my greatest illusion as if my life depended on it, because it did.”

  Silently, the gypsy girl wheeled a table with a rectangular box on it out onto the stage. Richard paid no attention but continued his story.

  “I knew that I had to do something to distract them in order to escape. I also knew that this would not be enough. I’d never survive in the jungle on my own. It was an untenable position to be in, and I knew I had but one shot of making it out alive.”

  Lacey locked the wheels of the table in place and stood next to the box, the stage lights revealing the colorful contraption. The Africans stopped and stared at the mysterious object and at one another in confusion.

  Richard went to the box, flipped up the top, and knocked opened the side facing the audience to show that nothing was in it but empty space. He and his assistant closed the side, but left the top open. The magician looked at the girl and nodded. Lacey bowed her head and took his hand.

  Richard continued with his story. “I was in a perilous state, but my resolve was unshakable. The only other time in my life I felt so afraid was when I was courting my dearly departed wife.”

  Richard bowed to the gypsy girl as if they were in a fanciful ballroom. Lacey twirled and the two waltzed to the strains of an unseen violin coming from offstage. When he started to dip the girl, Richard froze, raised his face to the audience and continued. “We had a much better selection from the caterer at my wedding, I assure you.”

  With that, the girl coll
apsed. Richard scooped her up and placed her limp body in the box, leaving only her feet and her head sticking out of the holes at each end. When the waltz began again, the magician unlocked the table and spun around the stage, rolling the table and box in a circle as if it were his dancing partner. When the music stopped, Richard was standing behind the box, the side facing the crowd.

  “Unfortunately, the tribe of cannibals wasn’t as civilized as we are, but some things they did do the same as us. For instance, we generally don’t throw the whole cow on the pit, and neither do they. The butcher cuts it up into smaller pieces first.”

  Richard pulled out a large, gleaming metal saw with a serrated edge. He tapped on the terrifying looking device, and the shrill clang of steel echoed throughout the room. An audible exclamation arose from the crowd.

  Setting the sharp saw edge against the box, he paused and said, “It was also unfortunate that there were dozens of them and only one of me. It seemed that slicing me in half would be required. The irony struck me as sharp as this blade. For you see, I always wanted to be taller.”

  Richard pushed down and sawed into the wooden box. His violent movements tore through the lumber, and, presumably, through the gypsy girl’s flesh and bones, with a horrendous sound. He exaggerated the motion of the saw, knowing from the chatter coming from the crowd that they were feeling every thrust of the blade as if it were cutting into their own bodies.

  “Whew! Pardon me. This is hard work,” said the magician, pausing momentarily while a stage hand brought him a glass of water. He took a few gulps, handed the glass back to the man, withdrew a handkerchief from his shirt pocket, and pretended to wipe sweat from his brow.

  “It’s okay,” he assured the audience. “I’ll be alright.”

  Richard grabbed the handle of the saw and shoved it even more violently into the box while the gypsy girl’s head contorted from side to side and her feet kicked about wildly. After a half dozen more thrusts of the saw, he was through the box. Leaving the thick blade sticking in the box, Richard stepped back to catch his breath.

  “I’m glad that’s over,” he joked, leaning against the table and causing the two sides to push apart. Richard was now standing between the two halves. He bowed as the crowd exploded in applause.

  When the clapping faded, he continued his tale. “So there I was, half the man I used to be.” The audience laughed. “But I was not dead. In fact, I began to sing.”

  Lacey hummed a pleasant tune as if she were skipping through a field of dandelions without a care in the world.

  “The only song that came to me at that time was as inappropriately pleasant as that one coming from my assistant.”

  The unmistakable melody of Dixie could be heard coming from the loudspeakers, sending the crowd to their feet in appreciation. “This confused the natives to no end, I must tell you. Flabbergasted is the word, I believe.”

  The three faux African Bushmen stood on the stage in a state of utter confusion. The subtle nodding of their heads and tapping of their feet in time to the Southern anthem provided comic relief, just as they’d rehearsed.

  “I took advantage of their confusion and chastised them in what little I knew of their native tongue, insisting that they reattach my top half to my bottom half so that I could kick their collective asse—. I mean, derrieres. Pardon my French, or Swahili, or whatever.” There was more laughter from the crowd. “So, reattach me they did. After that, none dared to defy me. So, here I stand.”

  Richard pushed the two halves of the box together and removed the saw in one quick movement. He lifted the top and the side fell open to reveal his assistant, back in one piece. The magician approached the box and helped the girl roll out. She smiled and curtsied as Richard held her hand and presented her for the crowd’s approval. She then skipped off the stage to join the three pretend cannibals waiting in the wings.

  “Wait!” Richard called out to the girl, but she was already off stage. He turned to the audience and said, “My lovely assistant forgot to remove this horrible contraption.” Richard eyed the box with feigned disgust before turning back to the crowd. “No matter. A gypsy girl is always underfoot,” he exclaimed. He unfurled his cape to reveal Laura, standing at his side. Another round of applause greeted the pair.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, Natalia the Gypsy Princess!” The girl smiled and bowed before pushing the wheeled table off the stage.

  The crowd cheered. Richard stood alone at center stage until the noise of the audience died down. He waited a moment longer, then still another moment. At last, he waved his arms in the air and pronounced in a booming voice before taking a bow, “I am the Amazing and Magnificent Villanova!”

  The curtain dropped, and the house lights came up. Richard, exhausted but exhilarated, walked back to his dressing room. The entire building shook from the cacophony of three thousand people stomping their feet, clapping their hands, and shouting their love and admiration for the greatest performance they had ever witnessed.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  The next show went on without a hitch, and the next. The crowds lined up and down the block for every event. It wasn’t long before the owners of the Luxor attempted to get Richard to sign an exclusive contract, but he had bigger plans. They renegotiated his deal to give him a larger cut of the take. They invested their own funds for advertising. They even presented him with a new automobile to show their appreciation. Still, he refused to budge. Offers were coming in from out of town. He was on the verge of stardom.

  When they ran out of incentives, management shifted gears.

  “What’s this all about?” Richard angrily shouted. “This is an outrage!”

  “I’m sorry, sir, but we’re just doing our jobs,” the bookish man with the thick glasses and bowtie replied.

  Richard stared at him, pretending the two goons on either side of the man weren’t present. He knew this was a shakedown. He’d expected it. Knowing it didn’t help. He figured it was only a matter of time before management played hardball. Still, he hadn’t expected that they’d go after the girls.

  “I assure you, all of our paperwork is in order. We are in this country legally, and I am the legal custodian of Natalia. So, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll have to ask you to leave at once!”

  The men stood their ground.

  “We know you are here legally, Mr. Henderson. As for the girls,” the man continued, stressing the plural tense of the word, “it’s not their immigration status that concerns us. Of course, I’m not sure of the status of the rest of your menagerie, the guru, geisha, and the rest of them, but that’s not why we’re here.” He paused before adding, “Yet.”

  Richard wanted to argue with them, but he knew that his ruse was up. The bastards had done their homework. He remained silent.

  “How old are the girls again, Mr. Henderson?”

  “Sixteen,” he lied.

  “Not old enough for the stage, I’m afraid. I guess you’ll have to wait a few years before you take your show on the road. I know for a fact that the boys in New York are pretty strict about such things. Actually, it wouldn’t go over well here if word got out. The theater is taking a risk by allowing it, I’d say. It could prove to be quite a liability if it got out.”

  “Why would it?” asked Richard.

  “Why, indeed,” the man replied. “As it is, management has stuck its neck out looking the other way. Our legal representation thinks it would be best if we weren’t involved in any sordid cover-up and we disclosed everything we know to the proper authorities. It would limit our legal liability. They’ve drafted a press release to that effect. I tried to convince them that it would dampen the appeal of your show and spoil it for the audience. I mean, once people know that there are two girls, it’ll ruin the illusion, not to mention the very idea that the Amazing and Magnificent Villanova from parts unknown is actually Dick Henderson from Toledo.”

  “I don’t see how that helps you, either,” Richard remarked.

  “It doesn’t. It isn’t go
od for anyone. I tried to explain it to management, but I’m afraid it’s one of those ‘if I can’t have him, no one can’ kind of things. Those things never end well, do they, Dick?”

  Richard looked at the trio. There was no expression on the small man’s face, but the two large Italian-looking goons who flanked him glared at him. One even cracked his knuckles. The scene reminded Richard of some film noir Bogart movie, but it was all too real. He was screwed, and he knew it.

  “No, they don’t,” he agreed. “However…”

  “However?”

  “What do you know about show business, Mister—?”

  “Blank,” the man replied. “You can call me Mr. Blank.”

  “How original. Mr. Blank, tell me, what do you know about show business?”

  “What are you getting at, Mr. Henderson?”

  “See, that’s what I’m getting at. Mr. Henderson—Dick the Great. That wouldn’t sell many tickets, now, would it?”

  “Obviously not, which is why you created your little persona. We get that. In fact, we are most impressed by your commitment. It’s one of the reasons we felt so comfortable showering you with gifts and offering you such a generous contract. It’s you who forgot the rule of reciprocation.”

  “I didn’t forget, Mr. Blank. It’s part of the illusion. Let’s get to the point. I can’t keep doing the same act in the same town, night after night. I’m constantly tweaking and changing things, but I can only do so much. Eventually, the crowds will stop coming. The act will play out. Worse yet, my secrets will be exposed, as you are threatening to do now. Magic is a hit and run act, Mr. Blank. It’s all about misdirection. Given enough time, even the simpletons will figure it out. Like it or not, we’ll need to cut back on the performances. Not when the crowds start to thin, but when the demand is the greatest. Then, we can swoop in unexpectedly from time to time, take the money, and run. That will ensure that they keep coming. They won’t want to miss out. Otherwise, they can always wait until next time. We have to make them believe there may not be a next time.”