“Derek, I think it’s best you let me handle this,” I say. “Why don’t you go catch the next show?”
Derek places his hand on my shoulder.
“I don’t think you understand. There won’t be another show unless we find the culprit.”
He may have a point. Still, it doesn’t mean he’s in charge of the Case of the Missing Props. It’s never a good thing to allow a guest to be a part of the investigation. I mean, who’s to say Derek Von Thurston is innocent? For all I know, he may be the culprit!
I kneel down to Sir Thomas Browne’s level and offer a handkerchief for his tears. “I’m so sorry for this mix-up, Sir Thomas.”
“You can call me Serge,” he says. “The bunnies are my family, know-what-I-mean? True family.”
Now that I’m this close to Sir Thomas Browne, I can see how the English accent obscured his full-on New Yorker feel. Magicians are such interesting chameleons.
“What should we do?” Diane asks.
“There is something definitely happening at the Crossed Palms Resort,” I say. “Mysteriousa was onto something. Sabotage may be at play.”
“Mysteriousa?” Diane asks.
“Sorry, long story. I’ll fill you in later. First, let me find Walt. Do you mind looking after Sir Thomas—I mean, Serge?”
I hop off the tiny stage and head into the hotel. No time for dillydallying. There are missing rabbits to rescue.
Hot on my heels is none other than Derek.
“Bunnies aren’t an easy prop to steal,” he says. “I think the first course of action should be to secure the perimeter and send out a search party.”
“No, that’s not what we’re doing. You’re a guest and should be relaxing,” I say, trying to maintain an even tone. Derek’s insistence on being my assistant is making it so hard for me to be Walt’s assistant! “Did you know our resort has amazing pools? We do—we even have an Olympic-size one. A good soak in the pool would do wonders for a world traveler such as yourself.”
Derek pulls out his pad. “Interesting reaction. I don’t know many establishments that would ignore the catastrophe unfolding right before their eyes.”
Oh no. Is he implying I’m not doing my job? I stop and turn to face him. He flashes a smug smile. His hand grips his pencil, ready to jot down whatever I’m about to say or do. Mom told me I should find compassion for Derek. He travels a lot and has to find ways to overcome his father’s looming shadow. But this is too much.
“Now hold on one second, Derek. If there’s one thing that’s true about me above anything else, it’s that I am solely dedicated to taking care of each and every person at the Crossed Palms Resort. That includes the bunnies, Serge, Professor Blaze, the movement magician, the Sorceress, and even you, Derek Von Thurston.”
My voice may be carrying a bit in the hotel lobby because, before I can continue, Walt appears beside me.
“Is there a problem here?” he asks.
I want to scream, Bugs Bunny and his family are missing, and Derek is questioning my job performance! But before I can give Walt the lowdown, Derek starts talking.
“You bet there is,” he says, tapping his notepad. “The Case of the Missing Props has escalated to a full-on assault against magicians.”
Walt looks like he’s about to faint. Not only is Derek speaking way too loudly, thus drawing attention from onlookers scattered throughout the lobby, but he seems to be enjoying it.
“Walt, another incident has occurred,” I say calmly. “Missing rabbits out in the garden.”
Without any further explanation, Walt heads to the scene. Derek and I tag along behind him. In the garden, Diane and Sir Thomas Browne—Serge—are sitting at the edge of the stage. Serge dabs at his face with the handkerchief I gave him.
“How can I help?” Walt asks, and Serge recounts the whole trauma. Poor Serge. He loves those bunnies. Esme, Coco, and Snowball aren’t just objets d’art. They are family.
“Where can they be?” he asks, trying hard to not break down again.
“We’ll find them. We promise,” Walt says. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to ask you a few more questions.”
I give Diane a nod and we take a few steps away from Walt and Serge. Derek doesn’t take the hint, so I have to kind of nudge him away.
“Poor guy. What a horrible thing to happen,” Diane says. “He’s taken care of those bunnies since they were tiny. They live in a small house up in South Brooklyn. Bensonhurst, I believe.”
“Did he tell you if he has any enemies?” Derek asks.
Diane cocks her head to the side. “Actually, he didn’t because he was too busy being upset. Like we all are.”
“Will you excuse us, Derek?” I say, pulling Diane away. Derek nods and continues to scribble in his notepad like a roving reporter.
“Wow. He’s a little intense, isn’t he?” Diane says.
“You can say that again,” I say.
This has got to be the worst date ever. First, I had to cancel our romantic dinner. Then I took her to a magic show only to be a witness to foul play and Derek’s incessant chattering. Everything about this date smells like a complete dud.
“I’m really sorry about everything. It looks like I have to work. I understand if you want to head out early.”
Diane smiles a great big smile. “What are you talking about? I’m having the best time ever. Not only did I get to see wild magic being performed, but I’m right in the midst of a full-on mystery. I want to see this thing through just as much as you do.”
My heart surges. Diane’s right. Maybe this isn’t so horrible. Our time together is full of action, intrigue, and even a little drama, courtesy of Derek.
“Thanks, Diane. I’ll wait to see what Walt wants to do next. If only I had a clue as to where the bunnies went.”
Diane looks to her left and right. “I didn’t want to share this in front of Derek, but look at what Serge found.”
Diane shows me a small hourglass.
“Serge swears he’s never seen it before in his life. He doesn’t use timers in his act.”
Holy sand crystals. What does this mean? The person, or persons, committing these acts is leaving behind clues. This is someone who either wants to be caught or wants to outsmart the masses.
“It’s as if the culprit is letting us know we’re running out of time,” I say.
“Or maybe that you’re getting closer to the truth,” Diane says. We both eyeball the timer and find nothing on it. No etches or initials. It doesn’t even smell like anything—it’s just a simple hourglass.
“The guilty party is speaking to us with these clues,” I say. “I just need to find out how to decipher them.”
“Goldie!”
Rob barrels over to us, screaming and waving his hands.
“Goldie! I’ve been looking all over for you,” he says. He’s out of breath and unable to formulate sentences.
“Breathe, Rob, or you’re going to collapse right here and now,” I say. I can’t have missing bunnies and a fallen Rob.
“No time to breathe. Mr. Maple is heading over here, and he’s on a rampage.” Rob points back in the direction he’s just come from. “It’s him and Dr. Von Thurston. They’re looking for you both.”
“They’re looking for me?” Diane asks. “I don’t even know who they are.”
Rob is holding on to his knees, trying to take in big breaths.
“No, Goldie and Walt,” he says. “And hi, Diane. How’s”—he gulps down some air—“it going?”
“No complaints, Rob,” Diane says. “You should probably sit down.”
“No time.”
This is not good. Dr. Von Thurston and Mr. Maple are heading this way. Cheryl is in front of them, shaking her head vigorously in warning. Unfortunately, I have nowhere to run or hide.
“Well, Goldie, it looks like news travels fast,” Derek says, now patting Rob on the back. “If you think I’m thorough, just wait until you hear from my dad. They don’t call him the Renowned Showman
for nothing.”
“Dr. Von Thurston is walking over to us, and I don’t know if I can make it,” Rob says. Diane holds him upright. Serge lets out another moan over his lost bunnies, and Cheryl’s eyes are about to bulge out of her head.
So much is happening I don’t even know where to concentrate.
“Time’s up,” I say, and flip the sand timer.
The storm is about to hit.
Chapter Twelve
“WALTER!” MR. MAPLE YELLS. POOR WALT PRACTICALLY jumps out of his skin from the noise. It’s a good thing we’re outside and most people are paying attention to the magic shows happening throughout the resort.
“Yes, Mr. Maple. I’m tending to one of our guests,” he says, trying his best not to let his voice tremble.
Mr. Maple transforms his anger into the face we usually see him employ when he’s in the public eye. The face of “everything is wonderful” and “smiles smiles smiles.” On reflex, I start to grin, too. The one person who is not smiling is Serge, who continues to sniff back tears.
“I’ve been hearing things from Dr. Von Thurston here. Very disturbing things, in fact,” Mr. Maple says. “And we need assurances that everything is on the up and up. Isn’t it, Walt?”
“Well, umm, about that…” Walt stumbles and I can see he’s in trouble.
“It sure is, Mr. Maple. Crossed Palms Resort is on the up, up, and uppiest,” I say with as much enthusiasm as I can muster.
“Hello, Serge. How is New York treating you?” Dr. Von Thurston asks. “Apparently better than St. Pascal, from the looks of things.”
Serge composes himself a tiny bit. “My bunnies. They’re all gone.”
Dr. Von Thurston places his hand on Serge’s shoulder and gives it a small squeeze. Then he turns very rapidly, enough for his long cape to make a swishing sound. He is inches away from Mr. Maple.
“My son here has told me there are several props missing from various acts, including Ganapati’s Chakra Cards and now Serge’s bunnies,” the magician says. Unlike Mr. Maple, Dr. Von Thurston doesn’t raise his voice. Instead he speaks softly, elongating each word for emphasis. “This is unacceptable.”
Rob starts to cough uncontrollably. I think his throat has gone dry from being so close to his idol. Diane goes to get him a glass of water before he completely collapses.
“It’s true, Dr. Von Thurston. I’ve been speaking to witnesses,” Derek announces. “I have many suspects but not enough evidence to point to the criminal mind behind it all.”
“Tsk. Tsk. Tsk.”
Dr. Von Thurston purses his lips with disapproval. This is not good. To have Derek, a VIP guest, alert Mr. Maple to all the things he’s doing to help solve the case makes Walt and me look bad. Really bad.
“It is a sad state of affairs when my only son is having to give me a full report of the failings occurring in this establishment,” Dr. Von Thurston says. “Do you not have people for this?”
Mr. Maple glares at Walt, who also starts coughing.
“Yes, sir. Some items have been misplaced, and Sir Thomas Browne—excuse me, Serge—has just notified us that part of his act has gone missing,” Walt says.
“A big part of his act,” Derek adds. “I would even say it’s his whole act.”
“I wouldn’t say it’s his whole act,” Diane chimes in. Derek’s remark is a bit of an insult to Serge. Why kick a man when he’s already down? I don’t like it and apparently Diane doesn’t, either.
“Thank you,” Serge says.
“Regardless, is it really true your bunnies have gone missing?” asks Dr. Von Thurston. Serge nods. “What is being done about this?”
Every time Dr. Von Thurston says something, Rob takes a small step toward him. It’s barely noticeable, but Cheryl shakes her head each time he does it. Rob keeps rubbing his belly, presumably checking that his book is still safe and sound. I hope Rob has the mind to not ask for an autograph at this moment. Mr. Maple will have a full-on hissy fit if he does.
“Walt here is our house detective. He hasn’t failed me once. I’m sure he has a plan, some important next steps we will be taking to locate the missing items and ensure all is well,” Mr. Maple barks. “Right, Walt?”
“The plan is to conduct a thorough examination, interview those who set up the stage, and be proactive in making sure this doesn’t happen to the other shows.”
“I’ve already spoken to several workers,” I say.
Mr. Maple gives me a scowl. I know exactly what’s going on in his big brain. He’s questioning why I’m interviewing anyone. Mr. Maple probably also wants to know why I’m not in the valet station parking cars. Then he notices Rob, who has taken yet another step toward Dr. Von Thurston. Rob freezes like a deer in headlights.
“It might be best to take this conversation inside, where I can order room service and we can talk this through calmly,” Cheryl says. She truly understands the severity of the situation. Mr. Maple is about to yell at someone, and that someone is most likely going to be as follows: Rob, me, then Walt.
Walt tries to maneuver the group back inside, but Dr. Von Thurston isn’t moving. Neither is Derek.
“I want to be perfectly clear. I will not, I repeat, will not take the stage if my act is jeopardized in some form or manner,” Dr. Von Thurston says. “I have a reputation to uphold, and if this establishment is unable to meet the standards needed for me to do so, I simply won’t risk it.”
And with that, Dr. Von Thurston swooshes his cape and departs. His son soon follows. Sensing Mr. Maple is about to explode, Cheryl gently takes ahold of Serge and directs him to the entrance. Rob, looking a little lost now that Dr. Von Thurston has departed, also makes his exit. The only people left to witness this outburst will be me, Walt, and Diane. And I don’t want Diane to bear witness to this mayhem.
“Diane, do you mind…”
Before I can finish the question, she gives me a wink and walks to the far end of the garden at a quick clip. I’m sorry to watch her go. I hope she doesn’t fully leave the resort. This can’t be how our date ends.
“Walt! This won’t do at all!” Mr. Maple screams so loudly a few guests look our way with concern. He notices and lowers the volume a bit. If only he would employ the Dr. Von Thurston way of speaking. “Do you understand he’s our featured performer? Do you understand the ramifications of him not getting onstage tomorrow? Talk about reputation! Securing this convention took years of schmoozing. This was a test run for the idea of the Crossed Palms Resort being the convention’s yearly host. We can’t afford for these mishaps to continue!”
Walt shakes with every word Mr. Maple says. As nervous as he looks, I know he’s well into figuring out how to make this right. He’s good at what he does, and that’s why he’s my mentor. Although Mr. Maple is yelling, this is just a lot of barking. The real work will happen as soon as Mr. Maple leaves.
“I am confident we will find the culprit before Dr. Von Thurston makes it to the stage.”
“You better, or it will be your head,” Mr. Maple says.
When Mr. Maple finally takes his leave, I can breathe. Did Mr. Maple happen to catch the workshop “How to Remove Your Head and Other Illusions”? Because he’s taking things a little too on the nose—or head, I should say.
“Three bunnies,” Walt says. He takes his glasses off and presses the bridge of his nose. Then he fixes his red hair and puts his glasses back on. “You heard the man. We’ve got to figure this out before tomorrow. What have we got so far?”
Walt and I find a bench surrounded by blooming star jasmine. The fragrance calms us both. I share what I’ve found so far, including the flash paper, the rabbit’s foot, and now the hourglass. Walt scratches his head.
“Interesting. There might be a connection. What could it be?”
We watch the sand timer while we rack our brains.
“Maybe it’s a road map. A hint of where they’ll strike next,” Walt says.
“That’s what I was thinking, too,” I say. “It’s as if they wa
nt to be caught. Or maybe it’s a way of showing off how they can outsmart the magicians.”
“Are there any acts that have to do with time?”
“Serge is supposed to be a time traveler, but he’s already been hit!”
“Hmmm.” Walt ponders for a moment. “Let’s think about this from another angle, then. What do we know about motives?” Walt asks. “Most people are motivated by money. Sometimes people can also be motivated by being validated. Seen.”
Hmmm. A person could go to all this trouble just to be seen. If I feel ignored, I have a loud enough voice to make myself heard. In a world of magicians vying for attention, how do you stand out?
I pull out the schedule of the magic shows. In a few minutes, the first set will end and then there will be a break. During that break, the schedule lists a get-together for magicians, illusionists, big performers, and more to connect and unwind. Afterward, there’s a headlining show featuring the Great Bradinski and his lovely assistant, Penelope.
Wait. His lovely assistant, Penelope. That gets me thinking.
“Evan mentioned something to me earlier. He said the assistants do all the work,” I say. “Who wants to be seen or heard more than assistants? Maybe I should interview them.”
Walt nods in agreement. “You’re thinking someone might be jealous of the acts? That’s not a bad call.”
I go back to the agenda. “There’s an assistant get-together: the ‘Now You See Us, Now You Don’t Soiree.’ I’ll ask around. Get the feel of what’s happening.” It’s the perfect time to do it. A jealous assistant or two might show up to the party to brag.
“We can’t just assume that this is the work of a jealous assistant. This could also be the work of a magician out to make a name for themselves. Perhaps a smaller player in the field,” Walt explains. “I’ll have Cheryl give me a list of magicians, and I’ll begin asking around. If there’s a hierarchy at play here among the magicians, we should know about it immediately.”
We both stand up, ready to get on with it.
“Under no circumstances are you to allow Derek to assist you in this investigation,” Walt says.
Goldie Vance--The Hocus-Pocus Hoax Page 8
