Magruder's Curiosity Cabinet

by H. P. Wood

  Seward carefully stands up. “Give me the wrench. I’ll swim over, unfasten it, and float it back to you.”

  “You sure?” Enzo asks gratefully. “Water is terrible cold.”

  Seward nods and eases himself into the frigid water. He can’t feel a thing.

  Meanwhile, Max helps his wife and sister-in-law off the rowboat and up the stairs.

  “Miss Hayward!” Ruth calls. “Miss Hayward, it’s time to go.”

  Kitty dashes out of the cabin, a panicked look on her face. She runs up to them at the stairs. “Shh! Please, you must be quiet. There are guards everywhere!”

  Ruth looks appalled. “What? But your husband told us—Max! Do you hear this? There weren’t supposed to be any guards! Do something!”

  Max, leaning on the railing, looks down at Enzo in the boat. “You told us no guards?”

  Enzo shakes his head. “Is no possible.”

  Kitty whispers urgently to them. “I swear to you, I saw them all night. One came by just moments ago.”

  “We believe you, dear,” Janet says reassuringly.

  “Of course we do,” Ruth agrees. “It isn’t the first time an Italian got something wrong.”

  “But…” Enzo peers up at Kitty.

  “You were wrong.” She shakes her head and turns away. But Enzo thinks he sees something flit across Kitty’s face. Was that a wink? To the Teufels, Kitty says, “I suggest we all wait in the cabin while the gentlemen fix the engine. Much safer that way, in case a guard happens by.”

  Max nods, but Ruth recoils. “Isn’t the boy ill?” she asks.

  “That’s what we heard,” Janet confirms.

  “He’s…ah, a bit fluish… I’m sure that’s all it is.”

  “Sure,” Ruth says darkly. “But I think we’ll stay out here just the same. Besides, my dear, it’s much wiser for us to slip off quietly while he’s sleeping, don’t you think?”

  “He’ll be better off,” Janet says.

  Kitty nods. “Certainly.”

  Down in the water, Seward has unbolted the engine from the wreck. He balances it on top of a broken-off plank and nudges it carefully toward the rowboat. Enzo reaches out and grabs the engine, pulling it into the boat and crouching over it to try to figure out, as best he can in the darkness, what went wrong with it. Seward lifts himself gingerly into the boat to sit beside him.

  “How are you coping?” Ruth coos at Kitty obsequiously. “You poor dear. Imagine, Janet, taking a holiday to America and getting caught up in all of this!”

  “Such a shame,” Janet agrees.

  “It will all be over soon.” Kitty pats Ruth’s arm consolingly. “My family are rather prominent, you know. They will be so pleased that you’ve helped me escape.”

  “It’s the least we can do,” Ruth says. “Your family is prominent, you say?”

  “Oh yes,” Kitty assures her. “Father is in railroads.”

  Enzo peers at the belly of the engine, frowns, then reaches in and pulls something loose. He holds it up triumphantly. “Seagull! He was right.”

  “Who was right?” Seward asks.

  “Uh.” Enzo tosses the seagull carcass in the water. “I was right. English not so good. Pronouns…”

  “Hmm,” Seward says.

  “Perhaps we should accompany you back to England,” Ruth suggests. “Take a steamship, see you safely back to your family’s arms. Wouldn’t that be lovely, Max?”

  Kitty says, “They’ll be ever-so grateful.”

  A low, moaning sound reaches their ears. “Oh,” a voice says. “Oh, please…”

  Startled, the women and Max look to the source of the sound—down in the water, a few feet to the left of the stairs. A figure bobs in the tide, gripping onto a wooden plank.

  “My goodness!” Kitty cries. “There’s someone out there!”

  “Please, somebody… Please help me…”

  Ruth swats at her husband. “Max! Max, someone needs help.”

  Reluctantly, Max clambers over the shale and gazes down into the water. “Good God, man! Are you all right?” He reaches down, pulls a young man out of the water, and drags him onto the sand. The young man curls up on the ground, coughing up seawater in misery.

  The women race over and squint down. “You poor soul,” Ruth says. “Are you—oh!” Her voice changes. “It’s a Negro.”

  Janet points at him and shrieks. “His legs! Where are his legs?”

  Kitty shushes her. “Ma’am! Remember the guards.” She kneels beside the nearly drowned young man, gently removing his wet braids from his face. “What happened to you, poor thing?”

  He coughs again and looks up at Kitty miserably. He whispers, “Shark…”

  The women gasp. Janet looks out at Lower New York Bay. “Sharks? Here? Max, what do we do?”

  Zeph moans theatrically. “They were holding me in the Negro ward. I kept looking out at the shore, thinking, ‘It ain’t that far. I can swim back.’ Got about halfway across when…”

  Max frowns. “I’ve never heard of sharks in the bay.”

  “Oh, my legs, my poor legs…” Zeph gazes up at Kitty pitifully. “Am I gonna die, miss?”

  She suppresses a smile. “Someday, certainly.”

  Ruth smacks her husband on the shoulder. “Max! Do something!”

  He spreads his arms helplessly. “I’m an accountant!”

  Kitty stands up. “Please, I must insist you be quiet. The guards…”

  “I’m not going out there in some leaky rowboat with sharks in the water,” Ruth declares.

  “Me neither,” Janet says.

  “Darling,” Max says, “we’ve already snuck out of the dormitories. We can’t go back now.”

  “My legs…” Zeph sobs.

  “I did not come this far to be eaten by sharks, Max!”

  “But, Ruthie—”

  “Please be quiet!” Kitty says fearfully. “Look, why don’t we all go in the cabin and talk about it there.” Ruth eyes her skeptically. “Please, ma’am. If you stay clear of the boy, you’ll be fine. Just don’t get to close to him, that’s all. Come along—”

  Ruth flinches. “I will not enter a tiny cabin with some diseased little creature, and I am certainly not going out in the bay when there are sharks about!”

  “Shh!” Kitty hisses. “Please. With all respect. If you keep up this noise, the guards will come and throw you back in the dormitory. Everyone there will witness your failure, but this time there will be no escape, because the guards will watch you every single second, and you will sit there in that ward until you rot.” She takes a step toward Ruth, looking her squarely in the eyes. “Is that what you want?”

  Ruth looks at her sister hesitantly. “Oh, all right,” she finally says. She tilts her head toward the cabin. “Let’s go.” The Teufels allow Kitty to herd them toward the observation suite.

  Down in the rowboat, Enzo has been listening to all this but keeps focused on the engine. “Almost finished,” he mutters to Seward. “You go talk sense to the ladies.”

  “Hmm,” Seward says. “I think I’m fine right here.”

  Enzo sneaks a glance at him but returns to the engine.

  Kitty opens the door to the cabin and ushers the Teufels in. “Please come along. Quickly, now.”

  Ruth peers around the empty cabin. “But where is the boy?”

  Kitty slams the door, grabs a piece of lumber she’d set aside earlier, and slides it through the handle, locking the Teufels in. She races around to the back of the cabin and lifts up an unconscious P-Ray, who’d been set to rest in the grass.

  Zeph sits up, but then he realizes that Seward is still in the rowboat. He immediately flops back down. “Oh, my legs… I’m gonna die for sure…”

  On the boat, Enzo and Seward eyeball one another. “Clever,” Seward says.

  �
��We no leave without.”

  Seward settles himself down in the rowboat. “You are under the mistaken impression that I give a damn.”

  “So,” Enzo says, “we good?”

  Seward shrugs.

  Enzo calls out, “Okay, Zeph.”

  “Thank God for that.” Zeph pulls himself over to the stairs, meeting up with Kitty and P-Ray. “I am never getting in that damn water again.”

  A muffled pounding comes from inside the cabin. “What is going on? Let us out! Let us out, damn you!”

  Kitty carries P-Ray down the boat, kissing his slumbering head. “It’s all right, little one. We’re going home.”

  Chapter 46

  To Hell with It

  The sky burial ended, they return to the tavern: Nazan, Rosalind, Timur, Archie, and poor old Digby. A sad little parade. Archie heads straight for the apple box of Elixir Salutis and passes out bottles to anyone who’s interested, which is everyone.

  Digby sits beside Nazan and pulls a handkerchief from his pocket. “I did what you asked, but I can’t figure what you want this for.”

  Wrapped inside, Nazan finds a tiny finger bone and a lock of Spencer’s black hair. “Thank you, Mr. Digby. And don’t worry, it’s all right. I’m going to make something from them. To remember him by.”

  Digby grimaces.

  “It’s not strange. In the old days, people used to make jewelry or…” She takes in Digby’s appalled expression. “It’s not strange.”

  “Dead’s dead enough.” He sighs. “Don’t know why folks gotta get creative.” He wanders away to the window, lost in thought.

  Nazan looks around at the group. “Well, that…that was horrible. A bit beautiful. But mostly horrible.”

  Rosalind reaches over and squeezes her hand. “I believe that’s the best one can expect from a twenty-two-year-old’s funeral, Tibetan or otherwise.” He sighs. “Perhaps we should go check on Mrs. Hayward.”

  Nazan nods and downs her elixir in one swallow. “Agreed.”

  “This is all very touching,” Archie mutters, “but you seem to have forgotten that the Committee for Public Safety has a bull’s-eye painted on the roof of this building.”

  “Yes,” Rosalind agrees. “And I’m left to wonder how that came to be.”

  Archie flaps his arms and shouts, “It’s not my fault!”

  Timur, Rosalind, Digby, and even Nazan from the depths of her sadness all stare at Archie.

  “Archie,” Nazan says slowly, “we didn’t think it was.”

  “Of course,” Rosalind says, “we do now.”

  Timur jumps up and shakes Archie by the shoulders. “What you do, nasty bastard?”

  “I’m innocent,” Archie declares guiltily.

  Rosalind touches Timur’s arm. “Forget him. What shall we do about the Committee?”

  “Bah, I have gun.”

  “You can’t shoot them all.”

  “Watch. They try take my home, you watch.”

  Archie stands. “And that is my cue. This is one tragic denouement that does not demand an audience.”

  He moves for the door, but Timur grabs him by the coat, spins him around, and plants him back on a stool. “You sit! You bring hell down on our heads, now you stay!”

  “This. Is not. My fault! I am not the trigger-happy lunatic with the—”

  “Uh, everybody?” At the window, Digby points. “Isn’t that Zeph outside?”

  Rosalind leaps up and dashes out the door, and Nazan follows. Timur stands to leave, but first he points at Archie. “You. No move.” Then at Digby. “You. Put eye on him.”

  Digby nods. Archie shrugs and opens another bottle of elixir.

  Outside, Enzo, Kitty, and Zeph are coming down the street. Enzo carries an unconscious P-Ray in his arms.

  Zeph waves. “Hey, y’all!”

  At the sight of them, Timur spreads his arms out wide. “You fly her! I know you can!”

  Zeph laughs, scuttling across the sidewalk to Timur, then reaches up and pumps his hand. “Yeah, I flew her, then I crashed her!”

  “Idiot! You owe to me one aeroplane.” Timur nods hello to Kitty and Enzo but saves his face-cracking grin for P-Ray. “My stupid boy… What has happened?” He reaches out and snatches P-Ray from Enzo’s arms. “What has happened to my boy?”

  “I’m afraid he’s taken ill,” Kitty says. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Bah,” Timur says, pulling the boy close. “We fix. Celik make the medicine.” He turns without another word and carries the boy back to the Cabinet. On the way, he passes Rosalind, who stands by the stoop, gripping the railing.

  Rosalind reaches out for P-Ray. “Oh no…little angel…”

  “Bah,” Timur says again, and he disappears with the boy into the building.

  Enzo approaches shyly. “Passerotta mia…no. No. I’m sorry. Passerotto mio.” He smiles. “Caro mio.”

  “So.” Rosalind sniffs. “You finally came back. I wish I’d known to expect you…” His eyes are wet, and he touches his blond wig self-consciously. “I look a fright.”

  “No…no. Così bello.”

  Rosalind reaches out and strokes Enzo’s face, first the scarred half, then the other. He whispers, “I didn’t mean the things I said…”

  Enzo blushes a little. “I know this.” He looks into Rosalind’s eyes and then glances at the many people around them. “To hell with it.” He puts his hands on Rosalind’s face, pulls him close, and kisses him on the mouth.

  Rosalind yanks himself away, shocked. “Not here!”

  But Enzo doesn’t let go. “Yes, here. Anywhere. Everywhere.” He kisses him again, and this time, Rosalind does not pull away. They stand together in the street, all alone in the crowded world.

  Zeph and Nazan gape at the couple and then look to one another, scandalized. When their eyes meet, they giggle. “Well,” Zeph mutters, “that…was memorable.”

  Nazan blushes. “It’s so good to see you, Mr. Zeph.”

  “And you, pretty lady. I’d give ya a hug, but…” He gestures at the difference in their heights.

  Nazan smiles. “You know what, Enzo’s right. To hell with it.” Nazan drops to her knees on the sidewalk and squeezes Zeph as tightly as she can. “Thank you,” she whispers into his ropes of hair. “Thank you for coming back.”

  “What? Ain’t nothing…” He pulls back and sees Nazan is crying. “Aww, now, don’t. C’mon, you have no idea how much I hate that.”

  “I’m just so relieved to see you! You’re the only friend I have here, Mr. Zeph.”

  He wipes her tears away. “You’re gonna find you got plenty of friends at Magruder’s, Miss Nazan.” She hugs him again, tighter still. He knows he ought to pull away—decorum and all. But, well…wouldn’t be polite.

  Amid all the hugging and kissing and crying, Kitty shifts awkwardly from foot to foot. She longs to ask where her mother is, but this doesn’t seem to be the moment. She tries to use one fingernail to clean the others. She picks some seaweed out of her hair.

  Zeph breaks away from Nazan to address the group. “So, y’all, what’d we miss?”

  “Just a typical few days at Magruder’s,” Rosalind says. “Plague, death, imminent doom.”

  “Excellent.” Zeph grins.

  Enzo sighs. “In bocca al lupo…”

  “What’s that mean, darling?” Rosalind asks.

  “Is, ah, ‘into mouth of the wolf.’ But means more ‘good luck.’ Is like actors say ‘break a leg,’ you know this? And your response is ‘Crepi il lupo.’”

  “Crepi il lupo,” Rosalind repeats. “And this means?”

  “May the wolf die.”

  Chapter 47

  Politics

  “Magruder’s is a priority,” Gibson announces. He sits at McGrath’s desk, which sits upon what used to be the Dreamland ballroom’s orch
estra platform. Gibson leans back and starts to put his feet up on the desk, but a death-dealing stare from McGrath changes his mind. Instead, he leans forward and tries to sound authoritative. “Magruder’s is a priority of the Dreamland Consortium.”

  McGrath pointedly puts his feet up on his own desk. “It isn’t a priority of mine.”

  “The Consortium pays your salary.”

  “Not anymore. Funny thing about attempts on the president’s life—they attract attention. The boys in Washington have been watching things play out here in Coney, and an opinion has taken hold that local powers like Reynolds and those Tammany weasels may not be up to the job. So the Committee on Public Safety has been federalized.”

  “But…I hadn’t heard this!”

  “Why would you? Who the Sam Hill are you?”

  “I represent the senator,” Gibson says huffily. “Who I’m quite sure doesn’t know about this either.”

  “During his city’s time of need, the Great and Powerful Reynolds bravely fucked off to Newport. Instead of coming down here himself, he sends some little fart catcher to try to push me around? Go tell your boss that if he doesn’t like how I’m running things, he can take it up with the attorney general. Assuming he has the balls to come back to Brooklyn.”

  Gibson starts to reply but is interrupted by a series of frenzied shrieks and high-pitched whoop-whoop sounds. “Chief, what is that noise? I’ve been hearing it all over Dreamland, but I can’t quite—”

  “It’s the monkeys. Goddamn Wormwood’s Monkey Theater. Employees are all F/D, and now the monkeys are loose.”

  “F/D?”

  “Fled or dead. Don’t know which. But whether they went to the next life or just New Jersey, the result’s the same—a beach full of monkeys flinging shit and playing with themselves.”

  “That’s…troubling.”

  McGrath grunts. “That’s nothing. A lot of animals got out. My boys put down the dangerous ones, the big cats and so on, but the nuisance animals…well.” McGrath narrows his eyes at Gibson. “I’ve got more than my share of nuisances, let’s put it that way.”