As Martha walked away and Elvin L. Cooper returned to his laptop, one of his secretaries approached from the other direction, carrying a computer notebook and a cell phone. The rhythmic click of her high heels caused Elvin to turn his head. He removed his sunglasses as she spoke.
“Your wife called and wondered if it would be okay to change tonight’s dinner reservations from six until eight. Her meeting at the art gallery was pushed back.”
“That’ll be fine, Linda. I’ll have extra time to work.”
“I’ll inform her right away, Mr. Cooper,” she said, flipping open the cell phone. “I thought I saw Gilbert heading this way,” she added as she drifted away.
“Duly noted,” Elvin remarked as he slipped his glasses back on and continued typing. The large butterfly, splashed with all the colors of an artist’s palette, fluttered underneath the umbrella and landed on the rim of the tea glass. Elvin L. Cooper briefly observed it with an amused smile as another voice interrupted his quiet afternoon.
“I’m going back to my office, Elvin. Get a chance to sign those papers?”
Elvin reached over and grabbed a thin pile of letters and documents resting on the morning newspaper and handed them to his usually antsy and overly-caffeinated agent, Gilbert Staves. “As requested, Gil.”
“Thanks.” He noticed the butterfly balanced on the edge of the drinking glass and swished it away. “You’ve got butterflies in your tea, Elvin.”
“Better than in my stomach,” he joked, removing his glasses to speak as the butterfly returned and landed on the back of Elvin’s hand.
“Looks like you made a new fan,” Gilbert said flatly. “Well, I’ll see you first thing in the morning, Elvin.” He waved goodbye with the signed papers.
“All right, Gil,” he said, eyeing the butterfly as he put on his sunglasses. Suddenly Elvin sat up arrow straight and the butterfly retreated in a graceless flight. He called to his departing agent. “Wait a moment, Gil. I want to ask you something.”
Gilbert Staves turned around and approached his boss, the shade from the table umbrella darkening his face. “What is it?”
“Why don’t you arrange an interview with that entertainment reporter–Eve Eloise is her name, I believe.”
Gilbert burst into a grin. “Good one, Elvin! I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said.
“I’m serious, Gil. I’d like to tape an interview for her show to air when TROUBLED WATER is released.”
Gilbert Staves looked as stunned as a student about to sit down for a calculus exam he had forgotten to study for. He stared at Elvin for several seconds, unable to speak. “You are serious,” he finally uttered. “Are you?”
Elvin L. Cooper removed his sunglasses once again, his green eyes now slightly gray and lifeless. “Deadly serious. You arrange everything, okay?”
“Well, all right, Elvin. I– I can do that,” he uttered, a puzzled look painted upon his face. “Sure… Sure…”
“You can fill me in on the details later, Gil.”
“Sure… And then you can fill me in on why you suddenly want to speak with the press.”
“Just mellowing with age.” Elvin L. Cooper waved him away with his sunglasses before returning them to his face. “See you in the morning.”
Gilbert nodded and walked away in a daze, shaking his head all the way out the front door and continuing to do so as he drove his car down the long driveway and out the front security gate. He didn’t know what to think.
Eve Eloise was sipping coffee at her desk and nibbling on a bagel when the telephone rang three days later. Her eyes popped open as large as clam shells and she nearly dropped her bagel when Gilbert Staves asked her if she wanted to interview actor Elvin L. Cooper. She said yes in a half dozen ways. Her heart pounded when Gilbert requested that the interview be taped in front of a live audience of five hundred lucky fans. Eve Eloise felt as if she had hit a Las Vegas jackpot.
Two months later, actor Elvin L. Cooper sat down in a makeup chair while people gawked at him as if he were a zoo exhibit. He smiled and joked and put them at ease. Twenty minutes later he sat on an easy chair opposite Eve Eloise, bathed in bright lights and the affectionate smiles of five hundred adoring fans who were chosen in a nationwide contest. Then the cameras rolled. The interview started. Eve Eloise took a deep breath, spoke for a few moments and then asked her first question.
“Why now?”
Elvin L. Cooper’s movie opened in theaters two weeks later. On the week leading up to the premiere, Eve Eloise aired segments of her much envied interview every weekday on her live afternoon entertainment show BIG SCREEN BUZZ. She predicted that that week’s show ratings would soar, even for the repeated airings at night. She couldn’t wait to renegotiate her contact after scoring such a coveted interview. Even the commercial spots promoting the interview were a hit with the movie-going public.
“And is it true, Elvin, that you may show up at various theaters across the country unannounced to promote your new movie?”
“Anything is possible, Eve. I have a lot of years to make up for with my fans.”
“I’ll say. They’ll congregate around you like moths circling a flame.”
“It’s the least I can do.”
“And why this sudden change, Elvin? What has happened to that old quiet and shy personality of yours? Where did it go?”
“Oh, I still have it, Eve. But I have it folded away like an old shirt in the bottom dresser drawer. I have it stored behind glass like a dusty old trophy! I have it–”
ELVIN L. COOPER TALKS TO AMERICA! ALL THIS WEEK ON BIG SCREEN BUZZ WITH EVE ELOISE. AN EXCLUSIVE ONCE-IN-A-LIFETIME INTERVIEW YOU WON’T WANT TO MISS. SEE IT TONIGHT AND EVERY NIGHT AND FIND OUT WHAT THE BUZZ IS ALL ABOUT!
Elvin admired the tiny parakeet perched in the silver cage in the corner of his study as it preened its lemon-yellow and olive-green feathers. He unlocked the latch, opened the tiny door and placed a hand inside, extending his index finger. The bird immediately hopped upon the actor’s finger and Elvin slowly removed his hand from the cage and stared at his newest acquisition.
“I think buying this bird was a stroke of genius,” he said to no one in the room. The spirit of Belthasar swam inside the heart and mind and soul of Elvin L. Cooper like a twisted choking vine. “You may not think so, Mr. Cooper,” he added, still staring at the parakeet, “but I do. And that’s all that really matters, isn’t it?”
He walked over to a window, the morning sun gently washing inside. Elvin unlocked a latch and swung it wide open, inhaling a warm sweet breeze.
“Now things are going swimmingly here on the west coast, but I have another project back east that I need to check on. So I’ll take my leave of you, Elvin, for a few days. You’ll probably be a little confused, but that’s all right. Just think of these last few months as a wild dream. But don’t get used to your old ways again because I’ll be back. You might try to loosen up on your own, Mr. Cooper. Everyone says you look much better for it.”
Elvin stuck his arm outside the window, but the parakeet stood firmly upon his finger. Ocean waves swished hypnotically upon the shore in the background.
“Oh, and by the way–don’t get rid of the birdcage.”
In the next moment, the gray shading in Elvin L. Cooper’s eyes dissolved and reappeared in the eyes of the parakeet which immediately flew off into the morning light. Elvin stumbled backward, caught himself on the edge of a bookshelf and then plopped down in his desk chair. What had just happened? How’d he get in here? He slapped his hands to his face, a throbbing headache bubbling up at his temples the likes of which he had never experienced before. He wanted some aspirin and a very long nap.
The hot dry breezes of July swept through the pine trees and willows planted around town. Orange and black tiger lilies basked under sapphire blue skies. A week had passed since Independence Day and now everyone in the city eagerly awaited the upcoming weekend carnival–three days of games and music, food and rides, and plenty of good times. The Jordan fami
ly particularly looked forward to the annual summer celebration in the large field on the edge of town. It was always an event to remember.
But life went on as usual the day before the festivities. A white ice cream truck rambled slowly along a quiet road in one of the neighborhoods, its melodious chimes calling out to all who desired a frozen sweet confection on a sweltering afternoon. A young girl in a pink sundress waited near the edge of the sidewalk, money clenched in her hand as her mother watched from the front porch. She proudly made the purchase of a double scoop of strawberry ice cream after the white truck pulled up to the curb, then waved to the driver as he pulled away.
The girl beamed with joyous anticipation as she carefully walked back up the lawn toward the front porch, not wanting to taste the ice cream until she was comfortably seated in her favorite swinging chair with the print of singing frogs on the fabric. She smiled at her mother, quickly turning her head when a large black crow landed on a branch of a nearby sprawling oak. A sour grimace spread across the girl’s face.
“Don’t you even think about eating my ice cream cone, you old bird!” she sternly warned, pointing a finger at the crow before sprinting up the porch steps.
The crow cawed once and flapped its wings as it perched high above the silent street, its dull gray eyes reflecting the blazing summer sun.
“You’re not the one I traveled across country to see, little girl,” the crow thought, digging its claw into the oak branch. “I’m here to pay a visit to the Jordan family. Only question is–what shall I do when I find them?”
Suddenly the bird flew off above the rooftops in search of his prey.
CHAPTER THREE
An Unlucky Penny
The Ferris wheel turned slowly against the twilight sky, its metal spokes ablaze with alternating lines of icy blue and green lights. Stars peeked out in bunches over the field on the edge of town bustling with hundreds of carnival goers on a warm Friday evening in July. The aromas of sweet buttered popcorn and cotton candy drifted lazily through the air, competing with the calliope music from a twirling merry-go-round and the staccato pops of bursting balloons from the dart throw booth. The laughter of children and adults encompassed it all, rising from the festival grounds as lively as bubbles from a freshly poured glass of ginger ale. And as full darkness descended, the warm glow of the carnival lights increased as if keeping a silent and protective watch upon all who stepped within its radiant border.
Someone else kept watch from within the carnival grounds as well, observing the Jordan family stealthily and silently through ashen gray eyes.
Vergil dived into the sea of red, yellow, blue and green plastic balls, working his way to the bottom of the pile like a mouse digging a burrow into the soft earth. Sam and Sally Jordan kept an eye on their seven-year-old son from outside the lighted screen enclosure with some other parents, watching with amused grins as his dark brown head of hair popped up from under the colorful sea of spheres amid the other shouting and tumbling children. Vergil hooted and threw a fist in the air, then plopped backward and let himself sink underneath the plastic balls once again. He smiled and waved to his parents, beaming with pure joy as the last traces of his red, white and blue striped shirt disappeared beneath the surface. A woman in an orange blouse a few feet away also watched the activity through the screening, her gray eyes focused on Vergil.
“We should build one of these contraptions in the backyard,” Mr. Jordan said to his wife as he adjusted the glasses on the bridge of his nose. “Think of the hours we’d save chasing after him!”
“But imagine how bored we’d be with all that extra free time,” his wife joked, placing an arm around him.
“We could use some boredom,” he replied, scanning the enclosure through the mesh screening. Suddenly he couldn’t locate his son among the other children as they happily bounced about. “Hey, Vergil, where are you?”
Mrs. Jordan didn’t spot him either and pressed her nose against the screen. “Vergil?” she uttered, a tinge of concern in her voice.
A few seconds passed and there was still no sign of his colorful shirt or the mop of hair usually in a wild tangle above his toothy smile. Mrs. Jordan pressed a hand against the tent. Her eyes darted back and forth in a maddening search. Mr. Jordan’s stomach tightened. He was about to call Vergil’s name again when a familiar voice shouted out.
“Here I am, everybody!” Vergil hollered as he burst like a rocket from underneath the pile of plastic balls. “I can hold my breath underneath all this stuff even longer than I can in the pool!”
“I guess you can!” his father said, flashing a thumbs-up sign and exhaling.
“Warn us next time you’re going to stay underneath for so long,” Mrs. Jordan added, a slight quiver in her voice as her heart fluttered. She now followed the movements of her son with an eagle eye, amazed at his boundless energy.
“So maybe we won’t build one in the backyard,” Mr. Jordan commented to his wife as they watched Vergil dive again into the mound of plastic balls. “Besides, we probably wouldn’t be able to keep Chris and Molly away from it despite their ages!”
“No doubt.” She chuckled at the thought and looked at her watch. “It’s almost nine-thirty. I wonder what mischief our other two handfuls are up to right now.”
“You mean our two teenage handfuls,” he replied with a proud yet bemused smile. “Don’t be concerned. Since there are no troll-infested castles nearby, I’m sure they’re okay. Anyway, what kind of trouble can they find around here?”
“I just worry that trouble seems to find them,” his wife said as she kept a close eye on Vergil, unaware that the lady in the orange shirt had quietly walked away.
Molly Jordan placed an index finger on either side of her face and pushed up, then sprouted a grin as wide as a pumpkin’s.
“Look at this face, Betsy! What do you think?”
“I’ll give it a B-plus,” her friend replied as the pair continued to contort their faces in the distorted mirrors deep inside Carnival Charlie’s Amazing Funhouse of Monster Chills and Incredible Wonders. Betsy folded her lips over her teeth to hide them, shut one eye and frowned. “What do you think of this one?” she mumbled.
Molly burst out laughing. “Excellent! Maybe you should go to clown school.” She gathered up a handful of her shoulder-length blond hair and held it above her head while batting her eyelids. “I love this new look on me! Think it will impress Jake Towner?” she giggled, puffing up her cheeks.
“Only if he likes goofy looking space aliens!”
They broke out in laughter, making more ridiculous faces in the mirror until they heard the solitary footsteps in the distance. They went as quiet as church mice.
“Quick! To the next room,” Betsy suggested with excited urgency.
They hurried along a brightly lit corridor, awash in wild swirls of purple, silver and tangerine. The girls separated when the winding maze split into two passages. They promised to meet up in the next section.
Molly walked alone through one corridor, its walls aglow with a rich forest green hue. The passage alternated between short sections that veered left, right or straight ahead. Molly had no choice but to walk along the crooked path as it switched its direction every few steps. She felt as if trapped deep within a cave. And there were those footsteps again. Was somebody following her? Then Molly screamed.
She quickly covered her mouth and laughed. The image of a giant fanged bat had suddenly appeared on the wall directly in front of her before instantly disappearing. Molly laughed again, thankful that her brother wasn’t here. She knew Christopher would have teased her endlessly for being so scared. She moved anxiously through the remaining awkward bends in the corridor, eager to meet up with Betsy. Then she heard the deadly dull echo of footsteps once more, getting louder, getting closer.
Molly instinctively turned around. Perhaps an attendant was wandering through to make sure everyone was behaving. Or had Betsy backtracked to catch up with her? The footsteps ceased. Molly shifted h
er eyes left and right. All was still, almost too still, but she turned back around and plodded onward, wondering when this annoying corridor would end. Molly felt more frustrated than the time she had searched room to room on her first visit to King Rupert’s castle. How tedious that little episode had been!
But before she could recall any more memories from her time spent in Endora, the monotonous thump of the footsteps returned. This time much louder. And now closer. Molly raced as best she could through the final turns in the crooked passageway. Left. Straight ahead. A quick right. Straight ahead again. And then–
Molly plunged into the gloom of the last chamber as the footsteps boomed loudly in her head. Someone was closing in fast. She looked around wildly in the pale light. Suddenly a hand grasped her upon the shoulder. Molly shrieked and spun around. Another voice yelped liked a frightened pup. Then the lights turned up and a set of doors at the end of the room slid open. A draft of cooler evening air drifted inside.
“Betsy! You nearly scared me to death!” Molly said, half laughing to her friend.
“Sorry,” Betsy replied with an apologetic shrug. “I thought you were part of the door frame. I heard someone following me and hurried to get to the end.”
“Me too,” Molly said, still aware of the steady beat of footsteps nearby.
She raised an eyebrow at the equally puzzled Betsy, then both girls turned around and spotted the answer. A pair of mechanically operated wooden shoes rose up and down upon a small square of oak wood in the corner of the room, stepping in place like a restless horse tethered to a post. Then the shoes stopped. For a few moments all was quiet except for the voices of other carnival goers drifting in from outdoors. Half a minute later the shoes moved again, though now not at all frightening in the glare of bright lights. Molly and Betsy giggled until a voice called to them from outside.
“Exit this way, ladies,” a man said. “I have to close the door and dim the lights. Others will be through soon.”
The Endora Trilogy (The Complete Series) Page 45
