by Kirby Larson
“No harm at all,” said Mr. Lee Shubert, cutting off Helmut’s opportunity to respond. He nodded to Jamie. “What is your thought, boy?”
“Do you have a piece of paper I might use?” Jamie asked. “As a substitute for a program?”
Both brothers patted their pockets. “What about this?” J. J. pulled out a letter, unfolding it as he handed it over.
Jamie took it, then let himself into Baby’s cage. He slowly unfolded the letter while Baby’s trunk agitated back and forth. “This won’t hurt you.” Jamie’s voice was soft and kind. “I won’t hurt you.” He held the paper out. But Baby backed against the bars at the rear of the cage, uneasy with Helmut there as well as two men he didn’t know.
“See?” Helmut said. “Uncooperative.”
As if comforting an infant, Jamie began to sing “Hush Ye, My Bairnie.”
Baby snuffled, patted Jamie with his trunk.
“I think he likes it,” the plumper Shubert said, amazed.
Pat. Snuffle. Pat. Snuffle. Pat. Snuffle. Then with a clumsy rocking motion, Baby moved away from the bars, toward Jamie.
“Take a look at this.” Jamie held the piece of paper out again. When Baby tapped it with his trunk, Jamie instantly fed him a sugar cube. “Good boy!” Another tap. Another sugar cube. Soon, Baby was taking the paper from Jamie each time it was held out.
“That’s amazing!” Mr. Lee Shubert exclaimed.
“This animal looks perfectly cooperative to me,” said his brother.
Jamie glanced at Helmut’s face, wincing at the fury he saw there. “It was Helmut who laid the groundwork,” he said quickly. “I merely reaped the benefit of his skill.”
“Of course, of course.” The Shuberts shook Helmut’s hand. “Anyone can see that. Well done.”
“Come upstairs with us,” said Mr. J. J. Shubert. “There is a bonus in this for you.”
Without so much as a thank-you to Jamie, Helmut left with the Hippodrome’s owners.
“Well, now you’ll be their pet.” Jamie looked around for a bit of fresh fruit to toss to Baby and found nothing. “Okay. Okay.” He patted his pockets. His salary was being quickly devoured by Baby’s needs. “I’ll be right back.”
He tore up the stairs and out the door to the neighborhood pushcart vendor.
“Oh, my favorite klots,” the vendor said by way of greeting.
“I’m glad to see you, too,” Jamie replied, throwing coins at the man in exchange for armfuls of fruits and vegetables. He turned and ran back to the Hippodrome’s basement, so preoccupied that he wasn’t watching where he was going. He was stopped stone-cold when he crashed into someone.
A female someone.
“Sorry, miss!”
“No harm done.” The female someone smoothed her skirts, picking up a rutabaga that had gone flying out of Jamie’s pocket. “Are you one of those vegetarians?” The young woman held the vegetable in her hand, wearing a thoughtful expression. “How fascinating.”
Jamie counted four strings on various slim and ink-stained fingers while he pondered a reply. Was it possible that eyes could be such a shade of brown? He felt he could look at those eyes every day for the rest of his life and never tire of their color.
He shook his head to clear it. What was happening?
“Uh. Not me,” he said. “It’s my—it’s Baby.”
She paused. “Your baby?”
He paused, too. Could he trust her? “Would you like to come meet him?”
“Yes,” she answered decisively. “Yes, I would.”
She followed him down the steps and into the basement, never making one comment about the odors. He stopped in front of Baby’s cage.
A trunk snaked out, feeling around for food.
The young woman laughed, offering up the rutabaga. Baby took it, munching happily. “I’ve never fed an elephant before,” she said. “His skin feels like leather. So soft.”
As he fed Baby the rest of the vegetables, Jamie cast about in his brain for words of reply. There were none. It was as if he were a toddler who’d not yet learned to speak.
Again a smile. “Are you part of the show?” she inquired.
“The elephant is,” Jamie said. “I’m his assistant.” Flustered, he shook his head. “That’s not what I mean.”
The fabulous creature pushed her spectacles up on her nose. “But I think being an elephant’s assistant sounds like a fabulous job. Better than mine.”
Jamie found his tongue. “What’s yours, then?”
“Juggler.” The young woman mimed tossing balls.
Baby tapped her arm.
“I’m sorry, friend,” she said. “I don’t have anything else for you to eat.”
“He’s had plenty,” Jamie assured her. “Leave her be, you cheeky thing.”
“I’ll be late for rehearsal.” The young woman turned to go, and in that movement, Jamie’s heart nearly tore in two.
She paused. “Tell me, are they as intelligent as I’ve read they are?” A notebook appeared from her skirt pocket. A pencil appeared from elsewhere and was now poised over the paper.
Was she having him on? Jamie snuck an earnest glance at her lovely face, all lit up from the inside. He didn’t think so. “Whip smart,” he said, now doubly glad he’d read the books the other girl had given him. “And loving. They take care of one another.” His voice caught, overwhelmed by his memory of failing Kitty. His precious sister.
She peered over her notebook, catching his dismay. “I have been too nosy. I’m sorry.” She sighed. “I can’t help it. I am completely overcome with the need to gather knowledge. I know it is most unbecoming, but I can’t seem to stop myself. But if you do feel like sharing, I would be glad to listen.” She blinked those brown eyes at him.
And that was all it took. A dam broke inside, and all the sad Jamie had held within came flooding out: about Kitty and Baby and Helmut and the plan Audie had concocted.
“I see.” A smile as warm as a cozy fire spread across her face. “You’re a friend of Audacity’s?”
“Well, me and Baby,” he said, already regretting his confession. Oh, she’d have a good laugh over this with her friends later: a lowly orphan thinking he could be some kind of hero.
She grabbed Jamie’s hand and shook it, sending electric jolts up his arm and directly into his heart. “I’m her friend, too.” She leaned close, her peppermint breath whiskering against Jamie’s ear. “I’m helping Mr. Houdini to vanish one elephant. Perhaps I can be of assistance in vanishing this one, as well.” She put her fingers to her lips. “Don’t tell, will you?”
They could drag him through the East River and hang him by his toes from the el tracks; Jamie would never give up this creature’s secrets.
“I’d best be going now, miss.” Jamie was awobble with some emotion unfamiliar to him but which you, dear reader, would recognize as the first stirrings of true love.
“Soon, the city will be amazed at Harry Houdini, vanishing an elephant.” She pressed her hand to his arm. “But you and Audie will be the true magicians, Jamie Doolan. And it will be my great honor to be a part of your show.” With that, she was gone, leaving Jamie’s mouth hanging open wide enough for an elephant parade.
The dress rehearsal was a complete and utter disaster.
The head grip was all smiles. “Good sign, that,” he said. “Nothing left to go wrong tomorrow night.”
Oh, how Bert wished these words held truth. In a weak moment, he’d agreed to switch around a few acts. He sneezed. These allergies would be the death of him! Had he been feeling himself, he would have stood up to Mr. Houdini. Why he needed that juggling act to perform before him, Bert had no idea. And then that Oberon had been carrying on something awful about getting on the bill. His audition wasn’t half bad. Maybe Bert could find a slot for him. But it would have to wait until after tomorrow night. After the Vanishing Elephant. Bert sneezed again. Three times. His aching head. His itching eyes. His raw red nose.
A cup of tea would make him feel bet
ter. This backstage chaos could carry on without him for fifteen minutes, at least.
Bert took himself to his office, unaware that he had missed, by moments, a certain girl juggler who had entered carrying a piece of paper but exited without it. He also could not know that this same girl was at that moment conspiring with the assistant elephant keeper.
While Bert waited for the teakettle to whistle, he rummaged in the top desk drawer, seeking a packet of Digestive Biscuits, but instead finding a note he’d written to himself: Don’t forget M’s birthday. The note was days old. Which meant—he glanced at the wall calendar courtesy of Shaffer’s Theater Goods to confirm his suspicion—he had indeed forgotten his wife’s birthday. What else could possibly go wrong? He reached for the bottle of milk for his tea. This action brought him face-to-face with a sleek chocolate-striped cat with golden eyes.
“You!” Bert sneezed, reaching for his bottle of Dr. Leo’s Breathene. “You’re the reason I’m falling apart!” He stamped his foot. “Shoo!” Stamped again. “Scat.”
The cat neither shooed nor scatted. She twitched her tail. Once. Twice.
Bert must have dozed off in his chair because the next thing he knew, the kettle was shrilling in his ear. He jolted, then pulled it off the hot plate and poured the steaming water over a spoonful of tea in his Brown Betty teapot. Where had the milk gone? And why had he left that saucer on the floor?
The tea steeped to a lovely caramel hue. Bert drank the entire cup and didn’t miss the milk, turning his attention to the stack of papers on his desk. He flipped through invoice after invoice, including one requisition for the use of a wagon and two cart horses, all of which he signed with a flourish. Paperwork and tea completed, Bert felt capable of handling any calamity upstairs, including a fish-deprived seal, an opera diva who refused to follow a seal act, and a troupe of bumbling jugglers. He whistled every step of the way, feeling quite chipper though he couldn’t say precisely why.
“When did you start to feel unwell?” Bimmy examined Audie’s face with concern.
“It’s likely just opening-night jitters.” Audie made her most pitiful expression and pressed her hands to her stomach. “Or maybe I shouldn’t have eaten that second sandwich at luncheon.” She hated misleading Bimmy in this way, but desperate times called for desperate measures. “You go on down to supper with Cypher. I’ll be fit as a fiddle after a little rest.” She smiled wanly. “The show must go on!”
Bimmy, already in costume, tugged at the tassels dangling from the hem of her skirt. “I don’t want to leave you alone.”
As if on cue, Min slipped through the window, landing with a soft thump on the floor.
“I’ll be in good hands,” Audie said. “Or rather, paws. Go on, now. I’ll meet you at the theater.”
“If you’ve still got your sense of humor, I suppose it can’t be too serious.” Bimmy shrugged into her coat. “But I’ll make sure it’s a very short meal.” She fumbled with the buttons. “Perhaps they could even wrap up my supper and I can bring it here to eat. Keep you company.”
Audie squirmed under the bedcovers. How could she have underestimated Bimmy’s loyalty and concern? “I think the smell of food might make it worse. An hour’s rest and I’ll be good as gold.”
Bimmy bent to tuck the quilt to Audie’s chin. “You’re always good as gold,” she said, placing a little peck on Audie’s forehead. “You rest, then. We’ll meet you at the theater.” Then she was finally on her way.
Audie counted to one hundred, as slowly as she could force herself. “One, two, three … ” It was agony. “Eighty-five, eighty-six.” She peeled back the quilt. “Ninety-nine. One hundred!” She hopped off the bed and grabbed the buttonhook to do up her boots. Min helped by snagging Audie’s coat and dragging it over.
“Thank you, Min.” Audie fastened the last few boot buttons and slipped into the proffered garment. “Fingers and paws crossed that everything goes according to plan.”
Min bounded out the window, while Audie snuck into the hallway to return an exceedingly important phone call. “Yes, it’s all arranged,” she said into the receiver. “Saturday it is.” That mission accomplished, she ducked down the back stairway. It was imperative that she not be seen.
At street level, she cracked the hotel’s rear door, peeking left and right before stepping outside. She adjusted her costume bag over her shoulder, then hurried off to see a man about a wagon, a pair of horses, and a very large container. Had her nerves not been in such a state, Audie would have realized that her exit had been observed. At a respectable pace, her acquired shadow followed, leaving a vinegary trail in her wake.
* * *
“I’m worried about Audie,” Bimmy confessed. “In all the years I’ve known her, I’ve never seen her unwell.”
Cypher poked at the meat loaf in front of him, making a mental note not to order the Blue Plate Special in the future. “I thought you said it was opening-night jitters.” He tried a bite of mashed potato with gravy. Barely edible.
“Whichever it is, she shouldn’t be alone.” Bimmy held on to the chair seat with both hands, legs swinging like pendulums. “I have a mind to go back to the hotel. Right now.”
“Stay put.” Cypher pointed his fork at her chair. “If she’s unwell, she needs rest and quiet.” He tilted his head in a sideways nod. “Sometimes even the best of friends need a breather from one another.”
Bimmy bit her lip. Had she worn out her welcome with Audie? They had chatted rather late into the night, talking about Houdini and Theo and the Pomegrantos. “I suppose you’re right,” she said glumly.
Cypher set down his utensils, catching something in Bimmy’s eyes that tugged at his well-protected heart. Something he recognized. He cleared his throat. “I planned to go by myself,” he began. “But I could use a hand with my after-supper errand.” He raised an eyebrow at Bimmy. She did not seem to be taking the bait. “Escorting Miss Theodora Quinn to the theater.”
“Oh?” She leaned forward the tiniest bit. “Do you suspect trouble tonight?”
He had her now. Best to play it up. Set the hook. He lowered his voice. “I can’t talk here.”
Bimmy considered. He could sense her about ready to agree. “Well,” she started. “I suppose there is safety in numbers.”
Cypher smiled, triumphant. It seemed he knew a thing or two about young ladies, after all.
“As long as we hurry,” Bimmy added. “I don’t want to keep Audie waiting at the theater, you know.”
“Yes.” He sighed. “Yes, of course.”
* * *
Theo answered at the first knock. “I’m almost ready!” She waved them inside. “Come see my laboratory!”
Her hands darted about like finches—scattering bits of string—as she took them on a quick tour. By the time Theo finished showing off her volumetric pipettes and sample tubes and all the different varieties of flasks—Erlenmeyer, and Florence, and filtering—her face was flushed with joy.
“It’s wonderful.” Bimmy eyes glowed with interest. She could imagine herself in just such a place. Someday. Not now, but someday.
As if reading her mind, Theo said, “I meant it about the standing invitation.” She brushed a stray lock of hair away from her face. “You are welcome to join me at any time.”
Bimmy nodded her gratitude. “I don’t think I could be a city girl,” she said.
“I’m hoping to move out to the country somewhere. Peace and quiet and—” Theo stopped. “It’s a big dream, I know. But one must have dreams.”
Cypher pulled out his pocket watch and tapped it. “We’re running late.”
“I’ll be only a moment!” Theo turned off this Bunsen burner and stoppered that beaker. She dug her costume bag out from under a mountain of papers. “Ready!”
Cypher took the bag from Theo, struggling with its weight. Had she packed bricks along with her ballet slippers, tunic, and tights? Setting such questions aside, he flagged a cab and they were soon inside. Once they were settled on the smooth le
ather seats, jostling their way to the theater, Cypher removed a small notepad from his vest pocket. “I’ve been doing some background work on our Mr. Oberon. Does the name Wylie Wurme ring any bells?”
Theo shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
“He lived in your boardinghouse at one time.” Cypher checked his notes. “For several years, off and on. Seemed to have formed a friendship with your landlord.”
“Bad taste in friends, if you ask me,” Theo said.
With one ear on the conversation, Bimmy watched the street activity outside the carriage. She mulled over Theo’s invitation. Bimmy Dove, assistant scientist. That had a lovely ring to it.
“Be that as it may, I was wondering if you had ever seen any of Mr. Bottle’s visitors.”
Theo shook her head. “I can’t say that I have. Though if I’m engrossed in an experiment, the President of the United States could come to call on Mr. Bottle and I’d never know it.”
It gave Cypher pause to think of Mr. Taft in conversation with one such as Billy Bottle. The image so distracted him that he lost his train of thought.
Bimmy started at the sight of a familiar shape. Wasn’t that the girl from the train station? The one selling pickles? She leaned forward for a better view, only to have her vision blocked by a wagon bearing a gigantic cask. After it passed, there was no sign of the girl.
Theo spoke again. “I’m sorry I can’t be of more help.”
“There is one more thing.” Cypher consulted his notes as the cab drew up to the Hippodrome. “Have you spoken with anyone at the theater? Even a few words after rehearsals?”
“I have followed my orders to the T,” Theo replied with great sincerity. “I promise. I haven’t spoken to a soul.”
“How do you know about that?” Divinity squinched her eyes at the triplets, who were hiding behind the dictionary table, across the library. Lilac fought back tears. The tenderhearted triplet was no match for Divinity’s icicle glare.
Violet reached for her sister’s hand and squeezed, sending along some of her own stalwart spirit with the motion. Emboldened, Lilac took Lavender’s hand, passing along the positive energy.