“You don’t need me, Cap’n,” she begged, as she hid behind one of the waves. “Anyone could do this trick.”
He paused as he considered her thoughtfully. “You’re all I have, Penny. Would hate to lose you though. Perhaps if you could find a proxy. Some brave fool to take your place.”
Penny enthusiastically skipped to the edge of the stage and looked out at the audience. “Any volunteers?”
Laughter filled the theater as Penny began begging and pleading for someone to volunteer.
“Raise your hands. Save Penny. Come on now.”
Several hands went up around the audience while Tucker slunk further down into his seat.
Penny jumped down off the stage and walked down the aisle. “Oh, come on now. You can do better than that. Surely, someone out there would be willing to save a lady.”
“They would if they saw one,” Bruce called out.
Penny speared him with a hateful glare before turning back to the audience. “Come on now, I’d be ever so grateful.”
A few more hands went up.
She stopped next to Grace’s aisle and turned around in a circle. “Isn’t there a brave strong lad out here who’d like to save a very grateful lass like me?”
Tucker slunk lower in his seat. He brought in his shoulders and turned his head away from Penny as she turned her attention to him.
“Anyone?” Penny asked, her accent disappearing as her voice became hard. “Anyone at all?”
More hands went up.
“Oh looky,” Penny said reaching across Grace and taking Tucker’s hand. “We have a volunteer. Such a good lad. There we go. Up on the stage. Save pretty Penny.”
“Did you see Tucker’s hand go up?” Grace asked as Kyle slid into Tucker’s vacant seat.
“No.”
“Neither did I.” Grace turned back to the magician as Penny dragged a reluctant Tucker onto the stage.
As Penny pushed the table of lethal looking swords closer to the locker, Bruce demanded to know Tucker’s name, rank, and serial number. Deeming him a fit candidate for entry into Davy Jones’ locker, he presented a waiver of liability to Tucker which Penny promptly signed for him.
“Now, lad, do you have any questions?”
Tucker shrugged as he peered into the locker. “So how does this work?”
“Good question.” Bruce ran his thumb over the edge of the sword in his hand. “You’re going to enter this metal contraption,” he said pounding his hand on the side of the locker, “and then Penny and I are going to stick all these sharp pointy swords into the locker.”
Tucker visibly gulped. “And that won’t kill me?”
Bruce and Penny exchanged a long silent look. “No,” Bruce said after a moment’s hesitation.
“Not at all,” Penny added as she took hold of Tucker’s arm steering him to the locker. “You can trust us.”
Tucker hesitated at the door and turned around to face Bruce. “Did I mention that I’m claustrophobic?”
“Oh, go on with you,” Penny said pushing Tucker into the locker. “It’s much roomier in there than the cabins below the water line. We’d be doing you a favor.”
Tucker eyed the sword in Bruce’s hand. “But the swords…”
“Now, don’t worry, lad. I’ll make you disappear. Won’t hurt a bit.”
Tucker leaned forward, his hand pressing against the door to keep them from closing it. “Then what happens?”
Bruce looked at Penny.
Penny looked at Bruce.
She shrugged.
Finally, Bruce placed his hand on Tucker’s face pushing him into the locker. “Don’t know. Never gotten that far.”
“In you go,” Penny said prying Tucker’s fingers from around the edge of the locker.
“I think I changed my mind,” Tucker cried as they shut the door in his face.
A combination lock suddenly appeared in Bruce’s hand which he affixed to the door. “Too late. You’ve already signed the waiver.” He spun the dial on the lock and then banged on the door. “Now I want you to listen to me very carefully, lad, and this is incredibly important. You see that grill in front of you?”
“Yeah.”
“Can you stick your fingers out?”
Eight fingers appeared through the grill.
“Okay. Now, are you listening, because this is incredibly important? I want you to wiggle your fingers. Don’t stop. Don’t ever stop until I tell you.”
Tucker wiggled his fingers. “How does that protect me?”
“It doesn’t,” Bruce said. “It just lets us know if you’re dead yet or not. Alrighty, let’s get started.” He pressed the tip of his sword to the side of the locker. Grunting, he pushed with all his might against the metal, which would not budge. It dented slightly, but otherwise remained firmly in place. Breathing heavily, he tried again with the same result.
With a loud bellow, Bruce screamed out Penny’s name.
Penny who had disappeared from the stage at some point, suddenly returned with a grinding wheel attached to the front of a pink bike. She grabbed Bruce’s sword out of his hand and then pressed it to the wheel causing sparks to fly.
Grace twisted her fingers together nervously.
Kyle reached over and took her hand. “Don’t worry. Tucker’s working with them. He’s a plant.”
“Are you sure?” Grace asked.
“I’m sure.”
Bruce leaned against the locker observing, as Penny sharpened the sword. “So, are you comfortable in there, lad?”
Tucker’s voice sounding more upbeat than before answered, “You’re right. It is actually roomier in here than my cabin.”
Grace and Kyle exchanged looks as the audience laughed.
Penny swung her leg over the grindstone and hopped off the bike. Sword in hand, she hurried over to Bruce, holding it out for him to take.
“You think you could have sharpened it before we got started,” he said in a loud aside as she hurried back to the grind stone with another sword in hand.
Bruce spun the locker around, showing the audience each side before turning it back around to face the audience. Lifting his sword, he dragged the tip along the metal cabinet as he circled the locker.
Tucker suddenly screamed.
Bruce dropped the sword with an exaggerated eye roll. “I haven’t put the sword in yet.”
“Could you warn me before you do?”
Bruce waited for the audience laughter to die down before shaking his head. “Sure,” he said, just before thrusting the first sword into the cabinet.
The audience gasped as a loud pain filled scream filled the air followed by a gurgling sound and then silence.
Bruce and Penny cocked their head towards the locker. “Is he dead?” Penny asked in a stage whisper.
“That was quick,” Bruce said. “They usually allow me to get a few good thrusts in before they kick the bucket.”
Penny pivoted around and addressed the audience. She wrung her hands. “Well, it appears there was a slight mishap. But no bother. Who else would like to volunteer?”
Everyone laughed while shaking his or her head. Only a few brave souls raised their hands.
Penny looked disappointed. “Oh, come on. You lot can do better than that.”
Bruce shushed her suddenly as he pressed his ear to the side of the locker. “I think I hear something.”
Bruce and Penny crept to the front of the locker where Tucker’s unmoving fingers were still poking out through the grill.
They looked at each other, then at the locker and then back at each other before moving their faces in closer to the grill. Suddenly, Tucker’s fingers moved causing them to jump back in surprise and the audience to laugh.
“Looks like we got a live one. Bring me another sword.” Bruce held out his hand, wincing as Penny slapped the flat side of a sword into his hand. He shook his fist at her back for a second before thrusting another sword into the locker.
Finished with the grinding wheel, Penny
joined him as they placed sword after sword into each side of the locker. By the time they had reached the last sword on the table, the locker resembled something like a pincushion.
Bruce took a step back to survey his handiwork. Swords stuck out at odd angles up and down the locker and on every side. “Okay, we’ve got thirty swords in,” he said doing a quick count. “Only seventy-five more to go.”
Penny suddenly appeared out of the shadows wheeling another table full of swords towards the locker. She grabbed one off the table and paused, looking for a good place to stick it in. “You missed a spot,” she cried as she suddenly vaulted up onto the magician’s back using him as a springboard.
Bruce turned, swiping at the space her body had just been in as she scrambled up on top of the locker. With a grunt, she slammed the sword into the top of the locker.
Suddenly, Tucker let out a blood-curdling scream, freezing Bruce and Penny in their tracks.
The audience went quiet as Tucker’s fingers slipped from the grill and the locker moved slightly as if Tucker had fallen.
Bruce looked up at Penny who cackled. “Looks like we got another one, Cap’n.” She leaned forward, her head hanging upside down as she looked into the grill. She looked up in shock. “He’s gone.” She gave an exaggerated patty cake clap. “Oh you’ve done it, Cap’n. You’ve really done it this time.”
Bruce dropped the sword he was carrying and skipped to the locker. “Now you will see the power of Davy Jones,” he crowed as he picked up the lock and spun the dial around and around, before tugging on the lock, which didn’t budge.
He tugged again before cursing softly and spinning the dial again. “Four to the left,” he muttered, “six to the right, nine to the left.”
“No. No.” Penny shook her hands. “Eight to the right.”
The audience laughed as the two began bickering over the combination to the lock before finally settling on the right numbers.
The lock dropped to the floor with a bang. And with a fair amount of swagger, Bruce opened the locker door to reveal thirty-one swords crisscrossing the empty locker.
Bruce spread his arms and took a bow as the audience clapped and cheered. “And now for my next illusion—”
Penny jumped down from the locker and grabbed Bruce’s arm.
“What is it?” he asked.
“You’ve got to bring him back.”
“Why?”
“He hasn’t paid for all of the excursions yet, Cap’n.”
Bruce gave an exaggerated eye roll as the audience dissolved into uncontrollable laughter. When they had finally quieted down enough, he loudly hissed, “Fine, I’ll bring him back if I must.” He slammed the locker door shut, and then quickly began removing each blade one by one.
When every blade had finally been removed, he returned to the front of the locker, opening the door with a flourish and revealing…
…a completely empty locker.
Chapter Eight
“I’m going to kill that little weasel!” Bruce Pritchard screamed an hour later, his voice so loud and angry it could be clearly heard throughout the now empty theater.
After the show was over, Kyle and Grace had waited for Tucker at the entrance to the theater, but when he didn’t appear, they quickly snuck back into the theater to look for him. They were standing on the stage searching for the entrance to the backstage area when they heard Bruce screaming obscenities from somewhere behind the fake pirate ship.
“When I get my hands on him,” Bruce screamed, “I’m going to wring his scrawny neck. Do you hear me? I’m going to kill him.”
Not finding a way through the curtain on either side of the stage, Kyle turned his attention to the pirate ship, quickly finding a hidden door in the hull that led backstage. The ship itself was just a large piece of stage scenery, half finished with nothing but an assortment of posts, beams, and ropes holding it up. A fireman’s pole and a spiral staircase on their right led to the top of the ship, and to their left was a dark recess between the back of the ship and a makeshift wall.
Following the sound of Bruce’s angry voice, they passed the spiral staircase and stepped into a large airy room filled with boxes of all shapes and sizes, as well as worktables and magic paraphernalia. At the back of the room was an open door leading to a small dressing room containing two dressing tables, a rack of costumes, and a small seating area.
And next to the thread worn couch was a glass door, which was propped open with a statue of a falcon. They could see Bruce pacing angrily back and forth across the deck, ranting and raving about all the things he’d like to do to Tucker when he caught him. While Bruce screamed, Penny stood at the railing, calmly inspecting her fingernail polish.
Bruce shook his finger at her as he passed by her. “It’s sabotage. That’s what this is. Pure sabotage.”
“Tucker’s not smart enough for sabotage,” Penny responded in a bored tone.
“Then where is he?” Bruce asked.
“That’s what we’d like to know?” Kyle asked, as he and Grace stepped out onto a large spacious private balcony.
Bruce spun around. He turned away as though he couldn’t bear the sight of them and faced the ocean.
“Well, that’s the million dollar question, isn’t it?” Penny asked as she smiled at them. “I don’t think we’ve been introduced.”
“They’re nobody,” Bruce said over Kyle’s introductions. “Get out of here, Dragovich. We don’t need your help.”
Penny’s eyebrows rose. “Dragovich? Any relation to Ilya Dragovich?”
“He’s my father,” Kyle said.
Penny’s eyes lit up in interest as she sashayed forward. “Well, isn’t that interesting. They were sitting next to Tucker tonight,” she called out over her shoulder. She crossed her arms as she faced Kyle. “So, just how much did you pay Tucker to backstab us like that?”
“I didn’t pay Tucker anything,” Kyle said.
Bruce wiped his hands down his face. “It’s not him, Penny. You’re barking up the wrong tree.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Penny said eyeing both Kyle and Grace suspiciously, “they all seemed rather chummy out there to me.”
“I told you it’s not them,” Bruce snapped at her.
“What happened to Tucker?” Kyle asked.
“Weren’t you watching?” Bruce asked snidely, finally turning around to face them. “I made him disappear.”
“You’re not that good, Pritchard. Where is he?”
“I don’t know,” he said angrily grounding out each word. His eyes bugged out suddenly. Pointing his finger, he ran back into the dressing room shouting, “You!”
They turned to find Leo Rycroft standing in the center of the dressing room. He took a step back as Bruce rushed towards him, his hands outstretched, reaching for the other man’s neck.
Kyle caught him about the waist and pulled him back before he could harm the other man.
“You did this!” Bruce spat at Rycroft as he tried to push his way past Kyle. “You put Tucker up to this, didn’t you? You’re a dead man, Rycroft. You hear me? Dead!”
Rycroft looked dumbfounded as Bruce began hurling threat after threat at him. “What are you talking about?”
Kyle pushed Pritchard against the dressing room table, holding him in place as best as he could as the other man fought to get past him.
“What is your problem, Pritchard?” Leo Rycroft asked.
“You! You’re my problem. You think you can make me look like a fool?”
Rycroft raised one eyebrow. “You don’t need my help, Pritchard.”
With a guttural cry, Bruce finally succeeded in pushing Kyle off him and raced toward Rycroft. He grabbed Rycroft by the lapels and punched him in the face, propelling him out and into the workshop behind the pirate ship.
Pressing his fingers against his bloody nose, Rycroft fell against Davy Jones’ locker. A loud bang resonated through the room as the locker toppled over and onto its side. Rycroft scrambled to his feet and di
sappeared through the hidden door and back on stage with Bruce hot on his heels.
“Bruce,” Penny cried, chasing after him, “wait! Don’t kill him. We need him.”
Kyle picked himself off the floor. He glanced at Grace with a grin before chasing after the others.
“Well, that didn’t go well,” Grace muttered as she looked around the now empty room.
Her gaze fell on the locker, and with curiosity getting the better of her, she tiptoed her way to the magic sword cabinet.
The locker was much larger than what it had appeared to be from the theater seats. Longer too, she thought as she ran her hand along the metal, tracing the outline of precut holes before opening the locker door and peering inside. Up above, level with the grill, she found two curved boards leading to the back, long enough for a man to rest his arms on as he leaned forward, and slipped his fingers through the cut holes in the grill. She pressed her hand to the back of the locker, not to terribly surprised to find it give way and open, lengthening the sides of the locker even more. While Penny and Bruce were busy sticking swords in every section of the locker, Tucker had to have been standing safely in the back out of sight by the audience. The only part of him in the locker were his arms and perhaps the top of his head.
She frowned as her fingers came across something wet and sticky on the back of the door. She held her fingers to the light.
Blood.
Was it Leo Rycroft’s blood, she wondered as she walked to a bathroom located off the dressing room. She turned on the tap water and washed her hand. He was bleeding when he fell against the locker. But if it was his blood, how did it get on the inside of the door?
She dried her hands and walked back into the workshop searching for any more signs of blood.
Now that she was looking for it, her eyes immediately found specks of blood on the floor.
Must be Rycroft’s blood, she decided as she followed the trail of blood across the room.
She froze as the sound of a can falling onto the floor and a low moan caught her attention, sending her pulse into overdrive. She glanced at the empty room and felt a shiver course down her spine.
“Hello?”
No answer.
She took a tentative step forward. Just then a soft thump sounded against the wall next to her along with a shuffling sound of boxes being moved about.
The Body in Davy Jones' Locker Page 8
