Goldie Vance--The Hocus-Pocus Hoax

by Lilliam Rivera

  “Is he really going to choose any old coin to prove his lucky coin isn’t missing?” I say.

  “He pulled out a coin?” Derek asks.

  “He sure did.”

  Miss Dupart scrutinizes the coin and smiles.

  “Evan flipped the coin into the palm of his hand,” I say. “Miss Dupart is toasting him and finishing her drink now.”

  Before Miss Dupart leaves, clearly content with what she’s seen, she says one more thing to Evan. I can’t quite make out the words. Evan gives her a quizzical look and then drops down behind the bar, out of sight once again.

  What did Miss Dupart say? And more important, what did Evan say? The suspense is killing me!

  “She’s coming out!” I say. I start to detangle myself from the plants. My poor penny loafers are completely covered with mud. Derek stares down at them and grimaces.

  “No crying over muddy shoes,” I say.

  We meet Miss Dupart over by the entrance. She points to a corner where we can talk more freely. Miss Dupart really does embody the hotel guest turned spy. Thankfully, we find a table for us to sit down. I run and grab a glass of water for her. Spying can dehydrate a person.

  “Miss Dupart, what happened? I couldn’t lip-read the last part.”

  Miss Dupart takes a long sip, carefully places the glass down, and then stares deeply into our eyeballs for at least ten seconds. It’s all so very dramatic, and the longer she stares, the more I feel like my eyes keep opening wider and wider.

  “As we suspected, Evan was not going to be an easy riddle to solve,” she says. “But he proved no match for Doriane.”

  “Doriane?” Both Derek and I say this at exactly the same time.

  “Doriane would be my spy name, of course,” she says. “My alias.”

  “Go on, Doriane,” I say. Miss Dupart is doing us a favor, so if she wants a spy name, she gets a spy name.

  “Well, the minute I mentioned how fond I was of seeing so many magicians in the vicinity, his feathers became so ruffled.”

  I knew she mentioned magicians!

  “The real icing on the cake had to be when I asked him what my chances were of finally meeting the renowned Dr. Von Thurston,” Miss Dupart says.

  “You asked him about Dr. Von Thurston?” Derek says. He’s not happy with Miss Dupart’s line of questioning. He doesn’t know Miss Dupart as I know her. Sometimes a person’s surprise reaction is all it takes to see what they are thinking and hiding. She was right to bring up Dr. Von Thurston.

  “That’s when he got mad,” I say.

  “As if right on cue,” she says.

  I can’t imagine harboring so much anger toward one person. Yet here’s Evan, carrying this outrage around like a big, heavy stone.

  “It took a couple of tries to ask him about his lucky coin. Any other day he would have surely asked me heads or tails. He hesitated,” she says after taking another sip. I thought watching the action while standing on a potted plant was intriguing. Hearing it from Miss Dupart adds so many more layers to it.

  “Our Evan didn’t want to leave anything to chance, so he finally pulled out a coin to toss up and see what my true chances were of meeting Dr. Von Thurston in person. A lifelong dream of Doriane’s, of course.”

  “What coin did he use?” I ask.

  “A bright silver quarter,” she says. “I asked him where his beautiful lucky gold coin was. His response…”

  Miss Dupart pauses for dramatic effect.

  “He said he recently lost the coin. He said, ‘I’m no longer tied to it as I once was. Sometimes the past just holds you back. You must burn the past. It’s what my doctor ordered.’ End quote,” she says. “And scene.”

  Yowza. Not only did Evan admit he lost the coin but he also sort of confessed to his crimes.

  “‘What my doctor ordered’? He’s definitely talking about Dr. Von Thurston,” Derek says. “If he plans to rig my father’s act, we’ve got to stop him.”

  I yank Derek’s arm, preventing him from yet another attempt to get himself into the Palms Palace. We’ve already tried that. We need a better solution.

  “Thanks, Miss Dupart, for all that you did. You are most definitely the best spy that has ever lived,” I say. “After the coin toss, I wasn’t able to see where Evan went.”

  “Our shaggy-haired server simply disappeared,” Miss Dupart says in a matter-of-fact tone.

  Derek and I give each other a look of astonishment. Evan did spend a lot of time with Dr. Von Thurston learning tricks. Did he actually master the art of invisibility?

  “Huh?” I say, and wait with bated breath.

  Chapter Eighteen

  MISS DUPART FINISHES DRINKING HER GLASS OF WATER. She opens her purse and takes out a rather large mirror and a tube of lipstick.

  “It’s true,” she says. “Evan went downstairs.”

  “Downstairs?” I ask. “What do you mean, Miss Dupart? I’ve seen plenty of pictures of the bar. I’ve never seen a set of stairs.”

  Miss Dupart opens the tube of lipstick and slowly lines her lips with a dusty pink color. Next, she purses them together and makes a smacking noise. Content, she puts her beauty products away.

  “You two are much too young to know this, but most drinking establishments, if constructed correctly, will have a trapdoor in the floor, behind the bar,” she says. “The trapdoor usually leads to where they store precious liquor or expensive wine bottles.”

  A trapdoor! I should have known about it. Of course, where else would Evan be dipping down into? He wasn’t kneeling on the floor. He was actually leaving the bar.

  “This explains so much! If there is a trapdoor, then that must mean one thing.”

  “That Evan is very good at stocking liquor?” Derek says sarcastically. “I could have told you that. Dr. Von Thurston always made him serve a dry martini every night.”

  “No, Derek, that’s not it!”

  I scream, but it’s because I’m about to explode. This is the true break I’ve been waiting for. I’ve been racking my brain, trying to figure out how exactly Evan would be able to sneak into all these shows without anyone noticing. He set up the tea station for the Great Bradinski, and he was working the night of Angela’s act, but how was he able to sabotage the other acts? The trapdoor explains everything.

  “The trapdoor most definitely leads to the tunnels underneath the Crossed Palms Resort,” I say. “It’s practically a whole other universe down there.”

  Derek is finally getting my meaning. “It makes perfect sense. He would be able to visit where these magicians were storing their tricks before hitting the stage,” he says.

  “Exactly! Plus, the bunnies!” I exclaim. “Evan must have stored the bunnies somewhere underground. I’m sure of it.”

  “We need to bring this to the authorities,” Derek says.

  I can’t believe Derek wants to go to the cops instead of just solving the mystery first. Right now we need to stop Evan while we’re hot on his tail. Alerting others will only delay us.

  Miss Dupart places her hand softly over Derek’s shoulder. Derek is taken aback by the warm gesture. It seems as if he’s not used to such genuine expressions.

  “Derek, you seem to be very attuned to many things. You clearly have a sense of style. You’re a young man who is not afraid to make bold choices,” she says. “I’ve met many such men. I’ve also known them to take necessary precautions when faced with adversity. You put your trousers on one leg at a time. You analyze and think through your ensemble.”

  Derek nods. He’s really listening to what Miss Dupart is saying. It’s kind of a miracle.

  “Wouldn’t you agree the best solution would be to prove your findings before taking them to the men in uniform?”

  Derek pauses for a long minute. “I think you’re right,” he says timidly.

  I pat him hard on his back. Of course I’m right! I’m a great house detective, and this mystery is about to get solved, I think.

  I give Miss Dupart the biggest hug e
ver. She’s been so helpful! Without her, we would have never caught this break.

  “Thank you for everything, Miss Dupart. I owe you a cherry Coke or two!” I say. “Actually, I’d be more than happy to take Clementine for her morning walks for a week.”

  “You are very welcome. It was a great, unexpected nightcap. And I was able to bring forth Doriane for a one-act play,” she says. “On that note, I bid you both a good and productive night of sleuthing.”

  Miss Dupart stands up and heads to the elevator. It’s time for us to pick up the pieces and find the right entrance to the underground. I have to think this one through.

  “I probably should be heading out, too,” Derek says.

  What? I’m so confused. Hasn’t Derek been by my side ever since we met yesterday? Didn’t he insist on telling me how he was a detective? This doesn’t make sense.

  “Why?” I ask.

  “Because it’s obvious I’m nothing more than a part-time detective,” he says. “If I were a true detective, I would have thrown myself into the planters with you. Or figured out that Evan was the culprit. Instead, I’ve just been in the way. The only helpful thing I did was name our mystery: the Case of the Missing Props.”

  “It’s true we haven’t seen eye to eye since we’ve met, and we might not see eye to eye in the next five minutes,” I say. “But you did help me figure out this case. If you hadn’t shared the information about Evan and the Swedish coin, I never would have pieced it together.”

  As much as Derek annoys me, he did help. But I disagree wholeheartedly with him. The Case of the Missing Props is way too on the nose and lacking a certain magical flair to be the name of this case.

  “Let’s head underground and see what we can find. Two sets of eyes are always better than one.”

  “Okay, I’m in.” He pulls the cap farther down his head and tucks in his yellow shirt. “Where to?”

  That’s a good question. I’m not exactly sure. Since Derek is now officially with me, I can’t possibly head to the women’s bathroom and go through the entrance I used earlier. I’ll have to locate another entrance—one that won’t draw any attention.

  “Let me think,” I say, scratching the back of my yellow headband.

  I absentmindedly watch Arnold leave the Palms Palace with a tray of half-eaten food. He quickly walks over to one of the hotel’s restaurants, right next to the Palace.

  “I got it!” I say. “Follow me.”

  We duck down a bit as we pass the Palms Palace, just in case Evan decides to pop up again from the trapdoor. I go into the restaurant and say hello to the host. She waves back. I always believe in walking with purpose, because that way no one can question what you are doing or why.

  With Derek right behind me, we head toward the kitchen. Not all the guests at the hotel this weekend are part of the magic convention, so quite a few tables are taken up with people waiting for their meals.

  The first person I see when I go through the swinging kitchen door is Chef François. He is much too busy dealing with the late dinner rush to pay attention to what I’m doing. He yells out instructions for the line cooks, and boy, are they following his orders.

  With all the hustle and bustle happening, I easily lead Derek to the pantry in the back of the kitchen. No one pays us any mind. It’s filled with the usual items you would find in a pantry, all neatly organized in their categories. Racks upon racks of spices, towers of vegetables, bottles of olive oil. The restaurant is never lacking.

  “Here we are,” I say, showing Derek the pantry.

  “What do rows of paprika have to do with underground hotel tunnels?” he asks, scrutinizing the food. “Great for adding flavor, not for finding missing Chakra Cards.”

  Oh, ye of little faith!

  “You’re failing to see what is right before your eyes.” I stand in front of a tall silver shelf brimming with labeled vegetables. So much good stuff here: artichokes, bunches of arugula, bok choy. Chef François keeps this shelf up-to-date with the freshest finds from the hotel garden and local farmers. “This shelf is Chef François’s pride and joy. He spends every day tending to his garden and selecting the finest vegetables. Chef François also likes to roll his ingredients around. Which is why I can do this.”

  I push the shelf aside very easily to reveal a concealed trapdoor. “See?”

  “Excellent!”

  “We better be quick. One of the cooks is bound to come back here for vegetable oil or something.”

  Derek opens the trapdoor and we look down. It’s pretty dark.

  “After you,” Derek says. “You seem to know your way around.”

  Before I head into the darkness, I do one more thing: I steal carrots from the pantry and hand them to Derek. “For Esme, Coco, and Snowball.”

  Derek stores the carrots in the front pocket of his yellow suit jacket without questioning. Score one to me for converting him into my own assistant detective!

  We quickly climb down the ladder, and I make sure the door closes behind us. We reach the bottom in no time.

  “This is the tricky part,” I whisper to Derek. I point to the long corridor to our left. “Right down there is where we’ll surely find the trapdoor that Evan uses to exit the Palms Palace. We can walk toward it, but we have to be extra quiet. He could be anywhere. We can’t let him see or hear us. Understood?”

  “Understood.”

  I press my body against the wall of the corridor. Derek tries to follow, but he’s nervous he might stain his suit. Everything is grimy. Dusty pipes hang over our heads. Boxes and abandoned machinery litter the halls. These tunnels are the keepers of lost and forgotten items.

  I have my nifty flashlight. I carry it with me at all times so I can easily shine a light on a situation that calls for it, but I’d rather not use it right now. We need to find out if Evan’s down here, and I don’t want to alert him to our whereabouts. Even though Derek and I stay light on our feet, every single step we take seems to echo across the corridors. There are other strange acoustics. Dripping sounds. Hard stomps from above. The thrumming bass of a drum.

  “What’s that?” Derek asks.

  I stop in my tracks. I, too, hear a strange noise. It sounds like thumping. It could very well be the pipes. I can’t be sure, not from this distance.

  “Let’s keep going,” I say.

  We tiptoe along the dark, spooky corridor until I stop right underneath what should be the Palms Palace. The trapdoor is shut. I shine my flashlight for just a quick minute to reveal what I suspected: footprints! There’s only one set of footprints heading down the unlit corridor toward the thumping sound.

  Right beside the footprints is a thin rope. It seems fairly new because there’s no dust on it. Next to it are three gallons of gasoline. Is Evan planning to dump the gasoline in the pool of water Dr. Von Thurston is going to walk on? Evan’s plans are way worse than I could have ever imagined! I do the smart thing and carefully drag the gasoline away from the trapdoor, only to find out one of the gallons is empty! I can only hope we’ll be able to stop Evan before something really bad happens!

  I hoist the rope over my shoulder. This might come in handy.

  I turn to Derek and point in the direction we’ll be walking next. Then I press my finger against my lips, the universal sign to keep quiet. I hope Derek listens because this is super important. I want to avoid any surprises. To be extra careful, I even take my loafers off and point to Derek’s yellow shoes. He shakes his head. I nod like I’m a pigeon. Eventually, he relents and takes them off. We simply can’t risk blowing our cover.

  My toes curl up as soon as I take my first step. Dark and now cold!

  Evan had better be down here, and we’d better find him before my poor toes freeze!

  Chapter Nineteen

  THE COLD IS GETTING TO DEREK AS WELL. I CAN TOTALLY hear his teeth chattering. The thumping sound is becoming louder and louder with each step. The amount of stuff “stored” down here keeps increasing to the point that we have to be extra careful
not to stub our now-bare toes.

  I see a very dim light at the far end of the corridor. Strange how, in the dark, your peepers search for a luminous glow like a moth. My legs find their courage to continue and so does Derek.

  When the light becomes slightly brighter, we slow down but keep inching closer and closer. The light emanates from a door left ajar.

  “Look, you three. I got you some water. I don’t have time to get you food, too.”

  Evan! As soon as we hear his voice, I stop moving. A dresser covered in the thickest layer of dust is located across from the door. I drop to the ground and make myself real acquainted with the floor.

  To my surprise, Derek does the same. His yellow suit will never recover! I’m used to playing in the dirt. There are tons of pictures documenting my adventures in soil and muck. You can’t be too worried about appearances when you are sleuthing. Plus, my outfit has mud caked on it from my stakeout in the planters. One more stain won’t change anything for me. Poor Derek. His yellow suit is toast.

  We crouch down behind the dresser. In the shadowy hallway, Evan can’t possibly see us, but his bright blond hair practically glows from what little light is emanating from the room. Because it’s so deathly quiet, his voice reverberates against the walls. He sounds like a big old giant, and I have to remind myself: This is the same shaggy-blond-haired guy who poured me hundreds of Shirley Temples. He’s no giant.

  “Be quiet!” Evan says.

  I finally realize what the sound is—distressed bunnies thumping their feet! Poor Coco, Esme, and Snowball! They must be so scared. It only gets worse, causing Evan to tell them to shut up again. Now I’m the one getting angry. Why would anyone scream at innocent bunnies? Did Evan not watch Bugs Bunny cartoons when he was a kid? What a terrible injustice. I won’t stand for this much longer.

  “I never thought I would be hiding bunnies underneath a luxury hotel,” Evan says. “Then again, I thought I was going to be a world-famous magician by now. I would have been one if it weren’t for Dr. Von Selfish.”

  Derek inhales angrily and I almost faint. Any sudden noise and we’re bound to get caught. Thankfully, Evan is too into speaking to the bunnies to pay attention to how Derek wants to pound his face in. Funny how Evan goes on and on about how Dr. Von Thurston is greedy and a narcissist, yet he can’t stop talking about himself and the way he was treated.