Goldie Vance--The Hocus-Pocus Hoax

by Lilliam Rivera

  “Sorry, Walt. Nothing to report.”

  Just when I finish saying that, we notice Ganapati wave hotel workers over. Walt and I join them backstage.

  “They were right here,” Ganapati says. His face is sweaty and flustered. “I don’t understand where they would go. No one else was here. Not a soul. I touched them right before entering the stage. I pat them before each performance to reassure myself of their location. And now they are not here.”

  “I’m the house detective, Walter Tooey,” Walt says.

  “And I’m his assistant, Goldie Vance!” I pipe up.

  “We’ll figure this out together,” Walt continues. “Let’s scour this area before expanding the search.”

  Walt and I try locating the Chakra Cards with Ganapati. He says the deck has gold lamination that would make it stand out anywhere. It’s also heavy because of the gold.

  “Chakra Cards illustrate different energy points in the body. Throat, crown, third eye. Each card appears to each guest and reflects what they should be opening,” he explains. “They are critical.”

  “Are you sure you didn’t ask someone to hold them for you?” I ask.

  Ganapati shakes his head. “I have my routine and I don’t change it. Ever.”

  I believe him. Routine is everything. We look on the floor behind the few pieces of furniture located backstage. The room was stripped before the workshop, so there aren’t that many places for cards to disappear. The crowd waiting for Ganapati to continue begins to get restless. Walt steps out and explains that we’re dealing with some technical difficulties.

  “Do you want to go over what happened one more time?” I ask, pulling out my pad.

  Ganapati runs through his routine once again. “Before each performance, I sit and hold the Chakra Cards in my right hand. When the meditation is over, I stand and place the cards on my meditation table.”

  He points to a simple, low wooden table. I take a closer look with my magnifying glass. There is a slight crack in the wood, barely noticeable. Something white is tucked in the crack. I pull it out—it’s a piece of paper.

  “Is this yours?” I ask.

  Ganapati frowns and shakes his head.

  “That’s no ordinary paper. It’s flash paper. I do not partake in flash paper. I don’t believe in it,” he says. “That is not mine, my child.”

  Ganapati sits down on his meditation table and cradles his head.

  “My poor Chakra Cards. They are lost,” he says. “So lost.”

  Walt tries to calm him down. “We’ll do our best to locate the Chakra Cards. Do not lose hope, Mr. Socar.”

  The Chakra Cards seem to be irreplaceable, which means they are valuable. Stealing them means easy money for someone. I stare at the room full of emerging and experienced magicians.

  “Where should we start the process? Do you want to close off the room and interview everyone before they leave?” I ask Walt.

  He takes me to the side, away from the distraught Ganapati.

  “No, no. Today is your day off,” Walt says. “I’m more than capable of handling a missing deck of cards. It’ll show up somewhere.”

  “Walt! This is a mystery. I’m your assistant. You need my help.”

  Walt isn’t budging. I know he means well, but I want to help.

  “I’ll manage this. You just try to enjoy your day.” He pats me on my shoulder. I know he won’t be changing his mind anytime soon.

  I look over at Ganapati. Poor guy. All he wanted to do was open our chakras. Walt announces to the patiently waiting audience that the workshop is unfortunately cut short.

  “We didn’t even pull out our Chakra Cards!” shouts the woman in the front row. Others nod in solidarity.

  I slip out the side door to avoid any more complaints about uneven chakras. If Walt says he can handle it, then I’m going to leave him to it. I look at my schedule. One item sticks out to me: “Flash Paper for Beginners.” I don’t know a thing about flash paper.

  Walt insisted I continue enjoying my day. Well, my day now includes a workshop on flash paper. A little work and a little play can easily go hand in hand. I head toward Conference Room B.

  Chapter Seven

  THE FLASH-PAPER-FOR-BEGINNERS CLASS IS NOT AS full as the previous workshop. Perhaps it’s because flash paper is too technical and not mystical enough. If you asked me five minutes ago what flash paper was, I would have just said it was brightly colored paper, probably orange or red. Maybe with glitter on it. You know, something flashy! But now that the Chakra Cards are missing and all we can find is flash paper in their place, I know I need to find out more.

  Crossed Palms Resort is such a big hotel. You can find a room for just about any meeting a guest might have. This particular workshop is being held in a small conference room. There are no pillows or even an elevated stage. Just regular ol’ chairs and a small table. In front of the table stands an older gentleman wearing a very bright Hawaiian shirt. Unlike our previous instructor, he just waits for everyone to sit down. I guess he won’t be making a grand entrance like Ganapati did, which is a total lost opportunity since he deals with fire.

  The person I’m sitting next to is dressed completely in black with long black gloves, a tall black hat, and large dark sunglasses. The person on my other side is a young man who simply nods hello. I’m unable to sit in the front, but the conference room is so small that every seat has a perfect view. Once the last seat is taken, the instructor begins.

  “I am Professor Blaze,” he says. “I am the foremost authority in all things pyrotechnic. I’ve taught most of the great magicians how to utilize the power of fire to embellish their acts. If you want to add fire to your show, you come to me.”

  And with that, he tosses into the air an item that burns so brightly I have to cover my eyes. Professor Blaze is not kidding when it comes to fire. While he might have skipped a grand entrance, practically blinding the small, somber audience with a flash of fire is more than enough to wake us up.

  “They don’t call him Professor Blaze for nothing.” I elbow the man next to me and he laughs.

  “You want to make a bold statement? There’s nothing bolder than using fire to add a little bit of fear and excitement to a performance,” Professor Blaze says. “The utilization of pyrotechnics in a magical act is definitely not for the faint of heart.”

  Professor Blaze then proceeds to break down the history of magicians using fire in their shows. Apparently, it goes back to the very early magicians, when they would use candles for séances to call in the spirits. As magic shows became more and more elaborate and stepped away from intimate gatherings, the use of fire became somewhat of a norm. The bigger the show, the larger the pyrotechnics can be.

  “You must not fall into the trap of using fire as a crutch,” Professor Blaze warns. “Consider it more like a good accessory. It adds a bit of sparkle but should not make the whole outfit.”

  Like a good shoe or a yellow headband? I can follow that.

  “Before we go blow things up, we have to start small,” he says. “And by small I mean flash paper.”

  This is what I’ve been waiting for. If Professor Blaze is the expert in everything burning, then he’ll be the right person to ask about the flash paper I found on Ganapati’s meditation altar.

  “Now, how many of you know what flash paper is?” he asks.

  I raise my hand. “I just found out it is definitely not a very loudly colored piece of paper.”

  The audience erupts in laughter, as does Professor Blaze.

  “That is correct. It’s not just a piece of paper. It’s a very important paper,” he says. “Before I hand out pieces of flash paper, I want to go over its history.”

  Professor Blaze goes into serious-professor mode. I feel like I’m back in school, taking a history lesson from one of my teachers. The woman in black is paying close attention to Professor Blaze’s lecture. As much as I want to be an attentive student, I can’t help thinking about the missing Chakra Cards and what flash
paper has to do with them. They must be connected.… But how?

  “What if you want to burn something other than just paper?” the mysterious lady in black asks.

  “Now, Mysteriousa, we’ve spoken about this before. You just want to jump straight to the big show.” Professor Blaze chuckles nervously. “You’ll need to secure yourself permits. Not everyone is allowed to burn things. Safety is key. Safety not only for yourself but for your audience as well.”

  Mysteriousa! What a name. Unfortunately, the lady in black bristles beside me from Professor Blaze’s answer.

  “Burning tiny flash paper won’t make much of a point, now will it?” she says.

  Professor Blaze furrows his eyebrows.

  “Mysteriousa, we all are very much aware of your show,” he says. “You might want to tone down the want for bigger flames at more intimate affairs.”

  Mysteriousa scoffs, and I’m left with so many questions. What did Mysteriousa burn that cultivated her a reputation for it? Also, how does she feel about Chakra Cards? I grin at her before discreetly writing down her name alongside Professor Blaze’s in my notebook.

  “As I mentioned, flash paper should be used to add flare to your act. With that in mind, you should be thinking of how to light the paper,” he says.

  Professor Blaze pulls out a tiny, brilliant silver lighter. The lighter has his initials engraved in it.

  “Say hello to Ms. Blaze. I don’t go anywhere without her,” Professor Blaze says. “This silver beauty has been a part of my act ever since my father gifted it to me on my tenth birthday.”

  The instructor twirls the lighter, flips it up in the air, and catches it behind him.

  “You don’t need a fancy lighter like mine. Any lighter will do, or even simple wooden matches. The trick is finding a way of igniting the flame without anyone noticing,” he says. “And that takes practice. Sleight-of-hand practice. Plenty of workshops exist that will expand your sleight-of-hand work. I suggest daily exercises.”

  Professor Blaze manipulates his fingers, shuffling his lighter from one hand to the other until the lighter disappears completely. He does this so fast it’s impossible to follow. If only I could slow down time to see what he’s doing.

  “Now, who wants to light some stuff?” he asks.

  Finally. No more history lessons. Professor Blaze digs underneath the table and pulls out a wooden chest. It’s small and, like his lighter, has an engraving of his initials.

  “This here is my Chest of Flames,” he says, patting the box.

  “Is it important in the magician’s world to give your props a special name?” I ask. I think it’s a valid question. Professor Blaze pretty much has a nickname for every little thing.

  “It can’t hurt,” he says. “These are your tools. They are part of your repertoire. It’s always nice to add a little life to your objets d’art.”

  I’m all for cool nicknames. I mean, my name is Marigold, but everyone calls me Goldie. Perhaps my magnifying glass should also have a nickname, like Ms. Eyes or Mr. Oculus. I’ll have to work on that. I jot the two possible names on a separate piece of paper in my pad.

  The woman in black, Mysteriousa, raises her hand.

  “Let’s hold off on any more questions. Our time is slowly diminishing like a candle burning out,” he says. “I want to be able to demonstrate the flash paper and give you each a hands-on experience.”

  Professor Blaze bursts a small flame from his palms. It’s not as intense as before, but it’s still very surprising. How he’s able to turn his lighter on without showing it is a pretty cool trick. The audience and I clap.

  “Okay, I’m ready to incinerate things,” I say to my two seated colleagues.

  “You can never be too ready,” Mysteriousa says before adjusting the dark sunglasses that practically engulf her face. I wonder if I should wear sunglasses.

  Professor Blaze opens the chest and starts to rummage through it.

  “Um, one sec,” he says.

  The instructor slowly starts pulling items out of the chest. A top hat. A wand. Another hat. “They were right here.”

  He closes the chest, lifts it up, and looks underneath. I know exactly what’s going on. Something is missing. Something important.

  “One second,” Professor Blaze repeats.

  I excuse myself from my seat partners and join Professor Blaze at the front of the room.

  “Professor Blaze, my name is Goldie Vance, and I’m the assistant house detective of the Crossed Palms Resort.” Professor Blaze is much too busy trying to find his missing item to really pay attention to what I’m saying. “What are you looking for? Maybe I can be of assistance?”

  “It’s the strangest thing. I placed them right here in this chest, like I always do,” he says, scratching the back of his head. “I know I’m getting older, but I always place them in this chest.”

  Before I start the search, I have to ask the most important question: “What’s gone missing, Professor Blaze?”

  “My flash papers. All of them. Gone,” he says. “Hundreds of flash papers. Just up in smoke.”

  Holy flaming papers!

  “Are you sure you didn’t leave them in your hotel room?” I ask.

  Professor Blaze shakes his head. “I just arrived this morning, right on time for my workshop. My luggage is being held at the front desk. I haven’t had a chance to go to my room yet.”

  Perhaps he forgot to pack the stack of flash papers, but Professor Blaze doesn’t seem like the forgetting type. I still ask him. He shakes his head again.

  “Is it okay if I take a look?” I ask.

  I dig my hand into the chest. It’s practically empty, but I locate one piece of crumpled paper in the far corner. It was obscured by a Hawaiian shirt. I grab the crumpled paper and hold it up for Professor Blaze to see.

  “Flash paper?”

  He nods. I unfurl the paper and find a rabbit’s foot hidden inside it.

  “What in the world…,” Professor Blaze says. “I’ve never seen that before in my life.”

  Now, I’m not one to believe in lucky rabbits’ feet. They’re a bit too gruesome, if you ask me. I say leave the rabbit and its tiny feet alone. But I’m hanging out with a bunch of magicians, and I’m not sure what the rules and rituals are.

  “Are you sure this isn’t your rabbit’s foot?” I ask.

  Professor Blaze shakes his head. “My thing is fire. I don’t play with rabbits or kids or doves or anything breathing.”

  “Why would someone take your flash papers and leave behind a rabbit’s foot?” I ask.

  “Revenge!”

  Mysteriousa has now joined the conversation. Professor Blaze doesn’t seem too keen on having her be a part of it. Maybe it’s because she’s removed her sunglasses and her eyes are a bit ablaze when she says the word revenge! Dramatica is another name I would use for Mysteriousa.

  “Now, now, Mysteriousa. You and I both know no one is envious of little old me,” he says. “I’m practically retired.”

  Mysteriousa takes the rabbit’s foot from my hand and holds it up to the light to inspect it, as if the foot will somehow tell us where the missing flash papers went.

  “Magicians are all a bunch of envious, no-good, grandstanding, show-stealing thieves,” Mysteriousa says. I’m surprised she didn’t add a few cusswords, but I think she realizes I’m still a kid. Professor Blaze’s face turns bright red from her angry outburst.

  “Well, you seem to be part of this world,” I say. “Got any clue who would steal flash papers from Professor Blaze?”

  Mysteriousa adjusts her gloves and looks intensely at every single person in the audience. A deathly quiet blankets the room.

  “We are all guilty for wanting to watch things burn. Every one of us,” she says, pointing her finger at the audience.

  “Calm down, dear.”

  Dear? Hold the flaming candlestick! Is Mysteriousa actually…

  “This is my wife, and she’s clearly upset over the missing flash papers,”
Professor Blaze says with an exasperated sigh.

  Chapter Eight

  MYSTERIOUSA CONTINUES TO DANGLE THE RABBIT’S foot for everyone to see until Professor Blaze calmly takes it away from her.

  “Is it possible we forgot to pack the papers?” Professor Blaze asks.

  Mysteriousa glares at him. “In how many years of teaching this workshop all over the world have you ever once forgotten a tool?” she asks. This time she calmly places her hand over his. “You are the most astute, observant, patient man I know. This is an act of sabotage.”

  Audience members gasp at the word.

  “Now, hold on,” he says. “Let’s not go jumping to conclusions.”

  Maybe Mysteriousa is onto something.

  “Who do you think would want to sabotage Professor Blaze’s act?” I ask.

  Mysteriousa takes off a glove and slaps it on the table. “Isn’t it obvious? Richard the Talented, the Third Eye Association, the little girl who picked the wrong card, the valet boy from this morning who took our car keys and didn’t hand us a ticket.”

  Professor Blaze gives me a resigned shrug. I recognize the shrug so well. I’m positive my father has done it plenty of times, when I go off on one of my tangents. I also can’t help thinking about the valet boy. Thankfully, Rob is off today, so he couldn’t possibly have made it onto Mysteriousa’s long list of suspects.

  “Anyone more specific?” I ask. “Perhaps someone attending the convention?”

  Mysteriousa huffs with annoyance.

  “Dear,” Professor Blaze says to his wife. “It could be anyone.”

  Hmmm. Flash paper that’s now a rabbit’s foot… I need to bring this to Walt and the others.

  Professor Blaze slowly closes the chest.

  “I’ve never been one to add locks to my chest. I always have my important things near me.” He draws Mysteriousa closer to him. She lets go of her angry demeanor and gives him a peck on the cheek. “My dear and this.”

  Professor Blaze pulls out his silver lighter, Ms. Blaze.

  “The only other woman in his life,” Mysteriousa says with a light laugh.

  “Do you mind if I hold on to this?” I ask, pointing to the rabbit’s foot. “I want to share my findings with Walt, the house detective. He’ll want a full report from you both, if you don’t mind.”