He continues: “You know, Dr. Von Thurston said I would never amount to anything and I didn’t have any real talent. He was so wrong. The only thing left is to finish dumping the rest of the gasoline. A flash paper tossed at the precise moment, and boom, no more calls for Dr. Von Thurston. Isn’t that right, you annoying furry rodents?”
Derek elbows me so hard I almost lose my balance. He’s feeling the rage as much as I am, maybe more so. Whatever issues he may have with his father, of course Derek still loves him. Why else would he be risking his father’s sartorial wrath to protect him from Evan’s diabolical plan?
“Well, drink up. I need to head back upstairs. Time to set up the grand ballroom for tomorrow,” Evan says. “The doctor will not know what hit him.”
When he says the word grand, he uses air quotes, which is very strange since the bunnies surely don’t understand how air quotes work.
We can’t let Evan leave the room. But how can we stop him? Time’s up. I need to make a move before he does. I give Derek one last look, and he stares back at me in fear. I tiptoe and stand right by the open door.
“Okay, in you go,” Evan says. I hear the sound of a scuffle. Then, “Hey, get back here!”
One of the rabbits makes a run for it, and I feel a rush of exhilaration. Could Snowball or Coco be trying to hop toward freedom? The rabbit leaps into a dark corner, and Evan panics. While he’s preoccupied, I take a good look around the room. It’s filled with abandoned hotel furniture. Evan was about to store the bunnies in a chest of drawers, but Freedom Bunny wasn’t about to allow that to happen, not without a fight.
“I don’t have time for this. Where are you?”
The rabbit makes a beeline to a large linen closet. The closet has a small hole in the corner, just big enough for the bunny to slip right through.
“Oh no, you’re not about to live in luxury in this closet,” Evan says. “You belong with your siblings in solitary confinement.”
Evan opens the linen closet and leans in. His whole body is practically inside. He tries to grab ahold of the rabbit, but Freedom Bunny is much too quick. Unable to get a firm grip, Evan steps into the closet.
“There you are!” Evan says.
With not a second to lose, I sneak behind him, push him right into the closet, and slam the door shut!
“Hurry!” I scream at Derek, and he throws himself atop the linen closet. Evan is kicking at the door, almost lifting it open, but Derek proves to be way stronger than he looks.
“Quick. Do something!” Derek yells. “He’s about to bust through.”
“Not if I can help it!”
I grab the rope I snatched earlier and put it to good use. I start to tie it around the closet, circling it a few times. I create several elaborate knots as quickly as possible. There’s more than enough rope to keep the closet doors shut. More than enough to keep our disgruntled Evan secured in one spot until we’re able to alert Walt and Mr. Maple to all his misdeeds.
“Whoever is doing this, I demand you release me,” Evan screams. “I work here, so you are going to be in big trouble.”
Derek knocks on the closet. “Actually, Evan, the only person who is in big trouble is you.”
“Derek Von Thurston? Is that you? Hey, kid, what’s the word?” he says, trying to sound as calm as possible, but there’s no denying the crack in his voice. “Derek, hey, remember how I used to take care of you? I promise I’ll explain everything if you’ll just open this up. We go way back. What do you say?”
“Evan was your babysitter?” I ask. I can’t imagine Derek as a little kid. He must have been constantly reciting long speeches for all to hear.
“Evan wasn’t very good at taking care of me. I vividly remember I was on my own for the most part while he devoured Dr. Von Thurston’s books on magic. I guess I didn’t mind it because he always made me such elaborate drinks.”
“Shirley Temples?” I ask, and Derek nods. Boy, Evan’s Shirley Temples are world-famous!
Evan pounds on the door some more. “Who’s with you? Is that Goldie? Goldie, get me out of here! This isn’t funny.”
I walk over to the closet. “I think you should’ve forgotten about the magic thing, Evan. Drinks are where your skills truly shine. Too bad you couldn’t see that.”
Evan responds by kicking the linen closet some more. The closet is old and made from sturdy wood. He won’t be escaping anytime soon.
A bundle of white fur slowly emerges from under the closet. Freedom Bunny! Derek jumps from atop the closet and bends down to greet the bunny. For whatever reason, it hops right into his open arms.
“Hey, little one. Are you hungry?” Derek asks. He pulls out a carrot and the bunny flashes a big grin. Well, I don’t know if bunnies can actually smile, but this one certainly seems happy to be free of Evan.
We locate the other two bunnies and feed them nice, fresh carrots as well. They are starving. Poor little ones.
“Well, look at that!”
Right beside the bunnies are the keys to the Great Bradinski’s straitjackets, a deck of Chakra Cards, a large stack of flash papers, and finally, Angela’s silver linking ring.
“Let’s bring these cuties up for air,” I say, nuzzling the one I think is Coco. She has long streaks of black on her eyes, like she’s wearing mascara.
“Aren’t you worried he might break out?” Derek asks. Evan is still banging on the closet. He’s now added cursing to his repertoire.
“He’s not going anywhere,” I say. “The rope trick I administered is called the constrictor. I also added a bowline knot, which features the rabbit hole. I can go on about knots! I learned them all from a couple of Boy Scouts!”
I think I’m starting to sound a little like Derek, going on and on about knots.
“Wow, Goldie, you’re not bad for a house detective slash car valet,” Derek says, juggling two bunnies against his yellow suit jacket.
“Not bad? I’m the best!”
It’s true. I am.
“Hi, Coco, Esme, or Snowball. My name is Goldie!” I say, and use my flashlight to illuminate our path back.
Chapter Twenty
I’VE NEVER BEEN ONE FOR ICED TEA. I’VE ALWAYS BEEN a water girl. However, this iced tea is made with some amazing ingredients, including mint and raspberries. I grab a pitcher and make sure to refill the glasses at our table.
“Would you like some more?” I ask.
“Thanks, Goldie,” Diane says.
Diane. I had to explain a lot. I did abandon her at the Great Bradinski’s show. She understood why. Still, no one likes to be stood up, especially for work. She responded with the sweetest thing. She said, “It’s not work if you love doing it. And you love it, don’t you? I would never get in the way of something you like.”
Isn’t she peachy?
I pour a glass of iced tea for Rob and then another for Cheryl.
“These are the best seats in the house!” Rob declares. “How were you able to score them? The show has been sold out for months.”
We are seated at the closest table to the stage. In a few minutes, Dr. Von Thurston will be closing out this year’s League of Magical Arts Convention. The ballroom is packed. Not an empty seat to be had.
“I happen to know the right people,” I say.
The fancy front-row table is courtesy of Dr. Von Thurston and Derek. I received a card with the invitation. The card had my name embossed in gold, and it said I could invite four people to the table. It was a total no-brainer to ask Diane, Cheryl, and Rob.
“No more for me or Clementine,” Miss Dupart says. She pats Clementine, who seems just as excited as we are for the show to begin. Miss Dupart is the fifth person at our table. I’m so glad everyone said yes when I asked if they would like to join me! It was the least I could do.
When Derek and I climbed up the trapdoor and into Chef François’s kitchen, we caused quite the uproar. It’s not very sanitary to have live animals in the kitchen. Chef François started screaming in French. Sadly, I knew th
e words he said all too well.
That was our first hurdle. The next came soon after we located Walt. We needed to make sure Evan was taken into custody. I was confident in my rope-tying skills, but you never know. Evan may have read a chapter or two on escapology. I didn’t want to take any chances, so we rushed off. He was standing in the back of the ballroom, surveying the situation while the Great Bradinski performed.
“Walt! Evan is our man. We caught him!” I screamed right into the ballroom, which was probably not the best way to convey information. The whole audience turned around and gasped in unison. Poor Bradinski. His show was destined to be interrupted no matter what.
“What are you talking about?” Walt asked as he eyed the rabbits.
“It was Evan the bartender all along,” I said.
Derek concurred. “He used to be Dr. Von Thurston’s assistant. He didn’t leave with a job recommendation, I will tell you that.”
I showed Walt the gold coin and all the other pieces of evidence we found. He couldn’t believe it. Neither could Dr. Von Thurston, who just so happened to be in the audience for the Great Bradinski’s performance. Derek was wrong about his father ditching the show. I guess it never hurts to always be watching what your competition is doing.
“What is the meaning of all this?” Dr. Von Thurston demanded. He approached us, directing a stern look of disappointment to Derek. “And what happened to your suit?”
“Dad—I mean, Dr. Von Thurston. I can explain.” Derek stumbled over his words. Lucky for him, he still had Freedom Bunny snuggled in his arms, and I think that calmed him.
I took a step right up to his father.
“Dr. Von Thurston, Derek and I have just cracked open the Case of the Missing Props. We’ve located the culprit and apprehended him,” I said. “If it weren’t for Derek and his mutual desire for justice, we would not have been able to secure the release of Esme, Snowball, and Coco.”
Dr. Von Thurston never raised his voice. Instead, he spoke even quieter. I could barely make out what he said to his son.
“Is this true?”
Derek hesitated but eventually nodded. “Yes, Dr. Von Thurston. What Goldie said is all true.”
Dr. Von Thurston bowed his head slightly and turned to Walt. “Of course my son would solve this mystery,” he said. “The Von Thurstons are always on the case.”
I’m almost sure my eyebrows flew straight up to my scalp after listening to his declaration. I was just about to explain what happened when Derek stepped up to the plate.
“Actually, Dr. Von Thurston, it was all Goldie. I was just assisting her.”
Dr. Von Thurston’s face was a wall of confusion. I guess he wasn’t used to a Von Thurston playing second fiddle to anyone. Ha!
“This is a treat from table two.” I flash back to the present as Arnold, our server, places a large vanilla cake in the center of the table and starts cutting pieces. I look over at table two and see Serge, aka Sir Thomas Browne, who waves at us. When we finally reunited him with his bunnies, he couldn’t stop crying, which made me cry with happiness. Those bunnies were so happy to see Serge. They kept hopping about and landing on his lap. Chef François sent up a crate full of fresh vegetables from his garden for them. Now the rabbits are resting and eating like the Crossed Palms Resort guests they were meant to be.
“Chocolate cake!” exclaims Cheryl.
I’m so glad Cheryl and Rob didn’t have to work today. We were all given another day off. And now we can enjoy the show.
I get up and take a large slice of the cake. “Hey, Arnold. Do you mind sending this piece over to table five?”
“Not a problem, Goldie.”
“Who’s at table five?” Diane asks.
“The Great Bradinski and his talented assistant, Penelope. I figured they might like something sweet before the show.”
Because of yesterday’s turmoil, Mr. Maple came up with a solution that made sense. The Great Bradinski was asked to perform today during a special lunch catered by the Crossed Palms Resort for all the convention attendees to enjoy for free. I finally got to see the Great Bradinski escape from a locked straitjacket. The funny thing is that although I know exactly how the trick is performed, I was still shocked when he escaped before time ran out.
That’s the beauty of magic. If you just suspend disbelief for a moment, you can really enjoy yourself. Not quite an easy task for a detective like me, but I’m willing to give magic another try. Instead of trying to figure out how they do the trick, I’ll just take in the enchantment.
A boy dressed in a bright-red suit is making his way across the Sugar Maple Ballroom. Red is definitely Derek’s color. The dramatic hue complements his dark-brown hair. He turns to our table, gives a polite wave, and sits down in the best seat in the house.
After returning the rescued bunnies and stolen props to their rightful owners, Derek and I were eager to rest. We were both exhausted and didn’t have much to say, which is rare for me and even rarer for him.
Just when he was about to head toward the elevator, Derek stopped and extended his hand for a shake.
Acknowledgments
I’m almost positive everyone goes through a phase where they want to be a magician. I know I did, and that is why it was awesome to write Goldie Vance: The Hocus-Pocus Hoax. I got to relive my love for magicians and being in awe of them. Big thanks to my editor, Rachel Poloski, who always makes writing about Goldie Vance so much fun. A special thanks to Angela Sanchez, who not only is a great children’s book author but also a bona fide magician. She invited me to the famous Magic Castle (only members can invite you in, of course) and answered all my questions while also performing magic! Finally, big thanks to my agent, Eddie Schneider, and to my daughters, Bella and Coco, who are full of magic.
Little, Brown Books for Young Readers began publishing books in 1926.
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Chapter One
TRIOS OF SWAMP THINGS ARE DEEP IN CONVERSATION over by the lobby’s fountain. A man with scaly skin in a slim suit pulls a toothpick from his mouth while a mermaid with long blond hair that practically sweeps the floor follows one of the bellhops into the hotel. The Crossed Palms Resort is being overrun by sea creatures and mermaids.
I pull out my trusty pad and pencil and quickly jot this down: Mark this day—strange things are afoot.
“Darling, I simply must have my ring,” Miss Dupart whispers. “How will I ever be cast in this movie if I don’t have the right accoutrement?”
“No worries, Miss Dupart. I’m on the case!” I open the door to Miss Dupart’s mint-green convertible and dive deep into the back seat.
Miss Dupart is a regular at the Crossed Palms Resort. She’s been living in the hotel as long as I have. Correction: She’s been living here even longer. Ever since the first palm trees swayed their palms, darling is what she loves to say. Miss Dupart used to be a big-time actress in Hollywood, but now she waits for the right roles to land in her lap here in St. Pascal, Florida, which means she spends a lot of time by the pool lounging and primping. The thing I love most about Miss Dupart is the way she whisper-talks, like she’s about to divulge the most scandalous of secrets.
“My emerald ring was a gift from the ambassador to Spain, or was it the cowboy from San Antonio?” she whisper-talks. “Either way, it’s very important to me. You must find it.”
“I totally understand, Miss Dupart,” I say.
Every morning Miss Dupart likes to drive her vintage green car along the coast. She says the ocean air does wonders for her skin. When she got back this morning, she immediately realized her ring was missing. It’s a good thing I’m her valet.
“Darling, have you seen the raw talent around here?”
Miss Dupart is dressed head to toe in a mint-green dress—her favorite color—and oversize
sun hat, with Clementine, her tiny poodle, yapping beside her.
“Will you be auditioning?” she asks.
“Oh no, not me, Miss Dupart. I’ll leave that for the professionals. Besides, I’m sure Walter needs me to keep my eyes and ears open. You never know what mysteries might unfold.”
My official job at the Crossed Palms Resort is valet, meaning I get to park the cars. But what I really want to do, more than anything in the whole wide world, is be the hotel’s house detective. I’m already working as assistant to the current house detective, Walter Tooey. I mean, technically, he’s not supposed to have an assistant, but there’s no way he can handle this whole resort on his own, not when there are always kids running off and getting lost, jewelry going missing, and cars being vandalized. There was also that one time the entire cast of some variety show was sabotaged by a jealous singer. Too bad the singer left her nefarious to-do list written behind some sheet music I found thrown in the trash. Nothing gets past me. Anyway, all this is to say that I’ve been proving I have what it takes to be a stellar detective. I’m just due for a promotion soon; I’m sure of it.
While I wait for that to happen, I negotiate elbow room with Clementine the poodle, who has decided to join me in the back seat.
“What do you think, Clementine? Do you know where the ring is?” I ask. Clementine answers with a sloppy lick on my face.
“I’ve never been one for genre ever since I was cast in that horrid vampire movie in the thirties with Bela Whatever-his-name-is, but they say sea monsters are the latest rage,” Miss Dupart chimes in.
“Not a problem, Miss Dupart. I’ll find it. I have all the confidence in the world!” I yell over Clementine, who is yapping her concern. Clementine doesn’t think I’ve got the chops to perform this miraculous feat. The poodle is forgetting one thing: I’m Goldie Vance, the soon-to-be-renowned house detective of this establishment, and there’s no doubt that this mystery will be solved in three… two…
Goldie Vance--The Hocus-Pocus Hoax Page 13
