by Rona Arato
The children walked quickly and silently, so as not to attract any attention. At this early hour, there were few people out. A stray cat slinked through the shadows searching for food. A ragged man slept on a street corner, his arms wrapped around the tin can he used during the day to beg for coins.
Shoshi looked up. In Vrod, the sky would be an inky blanket spattered with stars, but here, only a few pinpoints of light poked through the smoky layer that covered the city.
“I’m worried about Snigger.” Moshe slipped his hand into hers.
“Me too.” Shoshi squeezed her brother’s hand. “Don’t worry,” she said. “We’ll find him.”
The address on the flyer was a rubble-strewn lot by the docks on the East River. A large tent was set up in the middle.
“I remember this neighborhood,” said Shoshi. “Salty brought us here the day we arrived in New York.”
“Salty knows Mr. Thornswaddle, too. Shoshi, do you think they’re in this together?”
“Salty doesn’t need his help. He could have stolen Snigger when we left them together that first day.”
“Maybe Snigger escaped. Remember, Snigger found us in the alley; we didn’t find him,” said Moshe.
“Mr. Thornswaddle warned us to keep Snigger inside so he’d be safe. Why would he do that if he wanted to steal him?” said Shoshi.
“To make it easier for him to steal Snigger,” said Ziggy.
“Yeah,” echoed Noah.
“I don’t believe it,” said Shoshi.
“You don’t want to believe it, but it’s true. Girls!” Ziggy shook his head.
They walked carefully to avoid piles of rotting garbage, rusty cans, and broken glass, and soon the children reached the tent. Shoshi poked her head inside the flap. “No one’s here.”
They entered. The tent was empty except for a cage in the corner. Moshe walked over to it. The cage was large enough for a full-sized animal – a lion, tiger, or a dragon. Several of the rusty bars were blackened, as if they’d been burned, and the floor of the cage was lined with a thick layer of straw. Moshe bent down to get a better view. “See that dent in the straw? It’s shaped like Snigger.”
Shoshi knelt beside him. “It could have been another animal.”
“Well this animal had wings,” said Ziggy. He poked his finger at a triangular dent.
“So he has been here.” Moshe looked around. “But where is he now?”
“And where is Mr. Thornswaddle?” asked Shoshi.
“Aw, he probably took the dragon and ran off,” said Noah.
“I thought Mr. Thornswaddle was a circus barker extraordinaire,” said Noah. “This isn’t much of a circus.”
“It’s definitely his circus.” Ziggy pointed to a large poster lying faceup on the ground. Aloysius P. Thornswaddle’s face smiled up at them.
“I don’t understand any of this,” said Shoshi.
Crack! Crack! The kids rushed outside just as a wagon rattled past. The side of the wagon had an image of a lion across it. They glimpsed the driver, who wore a tall striped hat. As the wagon careened past, two yellow eyes peered through the bars of the back window. The wagon turned the corner and clattered out of sight.
“What do we do now?” asked Moshe.
“We should go home,” said Shoshi.
The sky had lightened to a watery blue. A barge slid by on the river, its prow cutting a path through the water. The toot of a horn rang out across the waterfront. The children trudged along the street. Shopkeepers were opening up for the day’s business. A man carried a carton of bananas into a fruit store. Shoshi recalled their first day in New York and the exotic taste of that strange fruit. They had come so far since then. But they still hadn’t found their father, and now they had lost Snigger too.
“Whew!” She held her nose as they passed a fish market. “Good morning,” Shoshi said to a man in a blood-spattered apron, who was prying open the lid of a barrel.
“Morning,” he said. “Fresh catch today.” He held out a large fish, its scales glinting in the sunlight. “Look at this beautiful flounder. You won’t find better fish anywhere.” The children hurried by. “Tell your mothers to come to Moe’s for fish,” he called after them.
A man carrying a pole stacked with round pieces of bread stopped them.
“Bagels! Hot fresh bagels.” The yeasty smell of freshly baked bread made Shoshi’s stomach rumble.
“Thank you, but we don’t have any money,” she said.
“Have one anyway.” He peeled one off the top and handed it to her. “Bagels! Hot fresh bagels,” he called and continued up the street.
Shoshi broke the treat into four pieces and passed one to each boy. “Mmmm, this is good. Let’s go. Mama will be mad if she wakes up and finds that we aren’t there.”
A stout woman, who was hauling a pickle barrel to the sidewalk, overheard them. “What are you hoodlums doing out alone at this time of the morning?”
“Our mother sent us shopping, Ma’am.” Shoshi turned to the others. “We’d better hurry.” She walked in long strides and they followed. At the next corner, they paused to get their bearings.
“Look at that building,” said Ziggy. “I think it’s some kind of factory. There’s lots of ’em down here.”
With a shaky hand, Shoshi pointed to a line of flowers carved on the building’s sign. “Moshe, look at those roses. They’re like the ones Papa carved on the shul in Vrod.”
Moshe scratched his head. “But how did they get here?”
“Papa must be inside the factory,” answered Shoshi. “And if he is … it must be Nick the Stick’s factory.”
“Let’s go inside and see,” said Noah.
“Yeah,” said Moshe.
“Whoa.” Ziggy grabbed Moshe’s arm. “You don’t want to wander into Nick the Stick’s place. Trust me.”
“Ziggy’s right,” said Shoshi. “We have to figure out a plan first. Then, when we know what we’re up against, we’ll come back prepared.” But prepared for what? Shoshi asked herself. What she did know was that she was the oldest, and she had to sound confident if she wanted the others to follow her lead. Moshe took his sister’s hand, and, together, the four of them headed home.
Mrs. Kaputnik was waiting for them in front of the restaurant. “Where have you been?” she demanded.
“We went to find Snigger,” said Moshe.
Mrs. Kaputnik was used to her children roaming freely when they were in Vrod, but here in New York, with Igor’s threat hanging over their heads, she needed to keep them close. “Don’t do that again!” she said, angrily. The children had never seen her this angry.
“But, Mama–” Shoshi began.
“I said no! You stay here, where I can keep an eye on you. You do not go off by yourselves. As for you two ruffians,” she turned to Ziggy and Noah, “do not cause me more trouble than I already have. Get home to your families!”
“I feel like a prisoner,” Moshe complained.
“Mama’s afraid of Nick the Stick,” Shoshi said. She refilled a saltshaker and set it back on one of the tables. “Everyone’s afraid of him.”
“Afraid? What are you afraid of?” boomed a familiar voice.
“Mr. Thornswaddle! What are you doing here?” said Shoshi. “And where is Snigger?”
Moshe dropped the broom. “Yeah, what did you do with him?”
“I don’t have your dragon.” Mr. Thornswaddle put his hands over his heart. “Do you really think I would steal your animal?”
“Where is your striped hat?” asked Shoshi.
“I lost it. That hat is as much a part of me as my head. But yesterday, I removed it for a moment and, whoosh, it was gone.”
Shoshi and Moshe exchanged looks.
“We saw your hat this morning,” said Moshe.
“Are you sure it was my hat? Where did you see it?”
“We saw it at your circus,” said Shoshi. “Someone was driving your circus wagon and whoever it was had Snigger.”
“I don’t have
a driver,” said Mr. Thornswaddle. “Oh, my. Well, if we find my hat, we’ll find your dragon. I, Aloysius P. Thornswaddle, do solemnly vow never to rest until the mystery of the dastardly demon who perpetrated this deed is solved.”
Mrs. Kaputnik marched into the room. “In ten minutes, I open the door for customers. Save your mysteries for later.”
CHAPTER 20
The Mystery Deepens
The following morning, Aloysius P. Thornswaddle and Dingle Hinglehoffer stopped by the restaurant. The baseball player looked tired. Dark circles rimmed his eyes, and his head hung low. Mr. Thornswaddle guided him to a chair and pushed him into it. “Our friend here has something to tell you,” Thornswaddle said. The Kaputniks gathered round waiting for him to speak.
“I took your dragon,” Dingle Hinglehoffer said.
“You have Snigger?” said Moshe. “Why did you take him?”
“And where is he?” asked Shoshi.
“I don’t know,” Hinglehoffer said sadly.
“If you took him, you should know,” said Mrs. Kaputnik.
“Hear him out.” Mr. Thornswaddle motioned for everyone to be seated.
Instead, Mrs. Kaputnik walked to the door, locked it, and turned the sign from open to closed. “Now, what is going on?”
Dingle Hinglehoffer sat up straight. “Could I have a cup of tea?”
“First, you talk.” Mrs. Kaputnik said. She stared at Hinglehoffer from across the table. “Then you drink tea.”
The baseball player cleared his throat and began. “We needed a mascot. The Yoinkels have their magic bats, so I thought we could use the dragon.”
“Why didn’t you just ask us?” said Shoshi.
“I was going to, but Mr. Thornswaddle wouldn’t let me. He said Snigger was too valuable to use in a baseball game and that he had to be kept away from certain people.”
“What people?” asked Mrs. Kaputnik.
“Nick the Stick,” said Mr. Thornswaddle. “The man is more dangerous than any of you realize. If he gets hold of the dragon, he will use him to terrorize this neighborhood. No one will be safe. That is why I’ve warned you to keep Snigger hidden whenever Igor comes to collect his money.”
“So who has Snigger now?” asked Shoshi.
“A man wearing a black cape,” answered Dingle Hinglehoffer. “He stole him from the dugout. I ran out in time to see him put Snigger into a wagon. Then he took off with the dragon. This man had one blue eye and one black eye.”
“Count Vladimeer!” said Mr. Thornswaddle.
“He’s the peddler Moshe got Snigger’s egg from in Vrod! What’s he doing here in New York?” asked Shoshi.
“Well, we’ll get to the bottom of this, don’t you kids worry,” said Thornswaddle.
“We saw the wagon! It must have been the count driving. He must have stolen your hat.”
They were interrupted by a knock on the door. Mrs. Shmuel was standing outside with a line of people behind her. “I must open the restaurant,” said Mrs. Kaputnik. “Shoshi, give the men their tea. We will talk tonight.”
That evening, Shoshi and Moshe met with Ziggy and Noah on the tenement steps. It had rained earlier, and the hot, moist air was suffocating. “Does it ever cool off in this city?” said Shoshi.
“Wait until winter. You’ll be begging for heat,” said Ziggy.
“We get snowflakes as big as your mother’s matzo balls,” said Noah.
“In Russia, the snow covered our house,” said Moshe. “We had to dig a tunnel to get out.”
“Okay, okay. Enough,” said Shoshi. “We have a problem to solve. I still don’t trust Mr. Thornswaddle. He’s hiding something. It might have to do with Snigger’s disappearance. Maybe even with Papa’s.”
“But he’s our friend,” said Moshe.
“I told you not to trust grown-ups,” said Ziggy.
“Okay. Let’s say that Mr. Thornswaddle is our enemy too. What do we do?” asked Moshe.
“We have to go back to the building where we saw the roses on that sign. I have a feeling that once we get inside, we’ll find everything we’re looking for. Here’s how we’re gonna do it….” said Shoshi.
CHAPTER 21
The Rescue
Two days later, the children set out to put Shoshi’s plan into action. It was Saturday, so the restaurant was closed. After lunch, Mrs. Kaputnik took a nap, and Mr. and Mrs. Shmuel went for a walk. The children took the opportunity to go back to the warehouse.
“Where’s Noah?” Moshe asked, as they walked down Hester Street.
“His aunt and uncle are visiting from the Bronx,” said Ziggy.
“Well, that changes things,” Shoshi said to the boys. “Now it’s just the three of us, so we’re going to have to be extra careful. We have to stick together at all times.” The boys nodded. “Moshe, did you get the stuff from the kitchen?”
“Yup.” Moshe patted his pocket.
“Good – let’s hope we don’t need them,” said Shoshi. And the three of them headed for the docks.
“Well, here we are,” said Ziggy, when they reached their destination. They looked at the river. Fishing boats were in the process of being unloaded. The boats reminded Shoshi of their voyage to America.
“There’s the factory,” said Shoshi.
“And here’s how we get inside.” Moshe pointed to a metal door in the sidewalk. He had seen others like it through out the Lower East Side. They covered metal stairs leading from the sidewalk into cellars under the buildings.
Suddenly Shoshi stiffened. She grabbed Moshe’s hand. “Look over there by that boat.”
Moshe’s eyes followed her gaze. “It’s Salty!”
“And look who he’s talking to.”
“Igor. What is Salty doing with him? Uh-oh, they’re coming this way.”
The children ducked around the corner and shrank against the side of the building.
“This is the best shipment yet,” they heard Igor say. “Nick will be pleased.” He bent down and opened the metal door.
“ ’e better be. I stuck me neck out good this time. And I expect to be properly rewarded.”
“You’ll get your reward. Is everything ready?”
“Me men are waitin’ to unload.”
“Okay. Bring them in.”
Salty whistled and two burly men appeared. Each carried an enormous wooden crate with the name of the steamship stenciled on the side.
“Where d’ya want this?” asked the first man.
“Down there,” said Salty. He pointed to the door in the sidewalk.
The men disappeared through the door. Salty and Igor followed behind them. Minutes later, the men emerged. They went to the boat, picked up more boxes, and carried them down into the hole. They made three trips. On the last trip, Salty emerged with them. “We better get goin’ before the cops get wind o’ us,” he said.
“That’s the ferry Salty used to bring us over from Ellis Island,” Moshe said, as the men boarded their boat.
“Salty is working with Nick the Stick.” Shoshi blinked back tears.
“You’re not gonna cry, are you?” Ziggy said to her with disgust.
“No!” she sniffed. Then she noticed the door in the sidewalk was still open. “Quick, let’s go.” She climbed into the hole and down the metal stairs, ending up inside a dark room. The boys followed behind her. When they all reached the bottom, they heard footsteps above them.
“Hide!” Moshe hissed.
The children scrambled behind a stack of crates. Shoshi peered around the edge and saw Igor and another man climb down the ladder, closing the door behind them. Igor had a flashlight in his hands. “We can check this stuff out later. Let’s tell the boss it’s here.”
“He’ll be real happy with the loot. That sailor sure did come through for us,” said Igor’s friend.
The children heard the two men walk up a set of stairs and through a door. When the children were sure the men were gone, they crawled out from behind the crates. The room was pitch-dark.
> “I don’t believe it,” said Shoshi.
“You don’t want to believe it,” said Ziggy. “Just remember why you’re here.”
“Ah choo!” Moshe sneezed. “It’s filthy down here.”
“Eeeek!” Something soft and furry brushed Shoshi’s leg and she jumped. “I hate rats!”
“Girls,” Ziggy grumbled. He dug into his pants pocket and pulled out a box of matches. He struck one, and a small flame sputtered to life. They spotted a door at the top of the staircase on the other side of the room.
The match sputtered out and Ziggy lit another. “Hurry up. This is my last match.”
“I liked it better in the dark.” Shoshi gasped.
Silently, the children crept up the stairs and through the door, which lead to a deserted hallway on the main floor.
At the end of the hall was a room with a door made of frosted glass and emblazoned with a bright red rose. Shoshi tried the knob and, to her surprise, it swung open. It was a small room, and in the middle was a table, piled high with wooden baseball bats. A collection of carpentry tools hung on the wall. A man in a white smock was seated on a stool. He held a pointy knife and was carving a piece of wood. On his head was an old black hat, and he had a curly beard. Shoshi conjured up memories from when she was a little girl. The man looked up from his work. When Shoshi saw him, all her doubts disappeared. “Papa!”
The man squinted. “Shoshi? No.” He shook his head. “It is not possible. I am dreaming.”
“It’s not a dream.” Shoshi reached out and touched his sleeve. “See, I’m real. And so is Moshe,” she said, as her brother and Ziggy walked shyly over. “Oh, and that’s Ziggy. He’s our friend.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Ziggy said.
“No, no. This is not happening. It is a dream. I must wake up and finish carving the bats for the baseball game.” He waved his hands. “Go, go, evil spirits, go away and leave me in peace.”
“Papa, we’re real.” Shoshi pulled out her amber charm.
Tears streamed down their father’s cheeks. He hugged his children tightly. “But how can this be? You are dead. You were all killed in a pogrom in Russia.”
