“Ah.” Khyber nodded again.
“Some disappearees vanish on the basis of a strong desire to be elsewhere,” Whoopsy continued.
In which case, I should have vanished twenty minutes ago.
“And some disappear involuntarily due to an overpowering emotional state, such as frustrated love, anxiety, concern for the well-being of a loved one, fear of moral compromise…” Whoopsy had a good snicker over that last one.
“Or just plain fear?” Satsy suggested.
“Yes.”
“You know…” I began.
“What?”
“Maybe we know more pertinent facts about the victims than I realized,” I said slowly. I rose from my seat and went to the display board.
“What do you mean?” Delilah asked.
I erased the notes that I’d made yesterday and started over. I wrote the names of the four disappearees across the top of the board. Then, using a blue marker, under the name of each one, I wrote: Not afraid.
“We’ve talked about their mental states. Whatever happened once they were alone inside the vanishing boxes, the one thing we all seem sure of is that each victim was in a normal frame of mind upon entering the prop.”
“That’s right,” said Duke.
I picked up a pink marker and wrote: Wanted to stay.
“We know they each had plans in this dimension. Dolly wanted to go shopping. Golly wanted to win a Tony Award. Clarisse wanted to attend a bridal shower and to perform with Barclay at the Magic Cabaret on Saturday.”
“And Samson was really looking forward to taking his mother to Atlantic City next week.” When we looked at her, Delilah added, “They do it twice a year. They’re very close.”
I picked up a green marker and wrote: Spontaneous???
“We can assume the victims didn’t plan this. We know the magicians didn’t plan this. But does that mean it wasn’t planned? We don’t know yet.”
“That’s right!” Satsy said.
“Are these spontaneous events brought about by common circumstances we haven’t yet identified? Or are they planned events brought about by an entity we haven’t yet detected?”
“Priority research question,” Khyber said, taking notes.
“We can say confidently that the victims didn’t want to vanish,” I said. “Which means we know one more thing.”
“What’s that?” Delilah asked.
I took a red marker and wrote the answer on the board in big red letters. Four times. Once under each name.
MADE TO DISAPPEAR.
They all nodded.
“The two questions we must address,” I said, “are how and why were they made to disappear?” When they all nodded again, I added, “Figuring out one may lead us to answering the other.”
It was perhaps unfortunate that Detective Lopez chose that moment to enter the bookshop.
I froze when I saw him. He looked around, then froze when he saw me. Next to me, Whoopsy gasped and rose to his feet. Lopez’s glance flickered to Whoopsy, then rested there. He frowned, as if trying to remember where he’d seen him before.
“Hello!” Max stepped forward to greet Lopez. Mistaking him for a customer, he asked, “Can I help you find something in particular, or are you just browsing? Do be sure to check out our section on ritual sacrifice and prophecy, we’re having a sale this week.”
I covered my eyes with my hand, unable to bear the moment.
“Dr. Zadok, I presume?” Lopez said.
“Yes!” Max replied with friendly cheer. “Were you referred by one of our regulars?”
I looked up and said, “Max.” But my well-trained voice was dry and faint at the moment, and he didn’t hear me.
Lopez pulled out his gold shield. “Detective Lopez, NYPD.”
“Ah, you’re looking for books on reincarnation and reanimation,” Max guessed. “A wise investment. The mortality statistics for members of your profession are not encouraging.”
Lopez looked amused and a little puzzled. “Are you trying to threaten me?”
“Dr. Zadok,” Whoopsy said. “Fuzz.” He nudged me.
“Max,” I said, my voice carrying this time.
Suddenly realizing whom he was facing, Max gasped and fell back a step. “Detective Lopez!”
“Apparently I was expected.” He looked around the room, taking in the interesting assortment of people gathered there. When his eyes rested on Whoopsy again, he said, “How are you, Seymour?”
“Uh. Um.” Whoopsy looked anxious.
“Seymour?” I said blankly.
Lopez glanced at me. “Seymour Barinsky.”
“My real name,” Whoopsy said faintly.
“You two know each other?” I asked in confusion.
Whoopsy sighed. “He busted me.”
“Back when I was in uniform,” Lopez said.
“You’ve got a good memory, Detective,” Whoopsy said.
“You made quite an impression.”
“What did you do?” Dixie asked.
Whoopsy replied with an air of defiance, “Indecent exposure, obscenity and disturbing the peace.”
“Several times, in fact.” Lopez said to me, “I had no idea you consorted with such persons.”
“He’s a librarian,” I said. “Or was.”
“I’m an artiste!” Whoopsy cried. “You were stifling my First Amendment rights!”
“So you remember me, too,” Lopez said. “I’m flattered.”
“Honey, who wouldn’t remember someone as cute as you?” said Delilah.
“Why, thank you.” Lopez smiled politely at her. I got the impression that Delilah’s feminine grace and clothing didn’t mislead him about her true gender. His gaze moved around the group again. This time it stopped on Barclay. “The Great Hidalgo?”
Barclay gasped. So did I. Lopez had covered more ground than I’d suspected.
“Um, yes,” Barclay said. “How did you…I mean, I’ve never been arrested.”
“I stopped by your office a little while ago. They said you’d be here.”
Well. That had certainly taken the challenge out of finding Dr. Zadok.
Rising to the occasion, Duke said, “Well, howdy, Detective. Very pleased to meet one of New York’s finest. I’m Duke Dempsey the Conjuring Cowboy, and this beautiful young lady here is my daughter, Dixie.”
“Oh, Daddy!”
Duke made the other introductions, which gave me time to collect my wits. That was when I realized my hands were liberally stained with the various colors of markers with which I had written, under the names of the victims, in letters that looked awfully big and bright to me now, phrases that might appear rather incriminating if viewed in the wrong context.
I was wondering if I could casually erase the whole board without being noticed when Lopez caught my eye. He glanced at the display board, then at my hands.
“Hello, Esther,” he said. “I assume there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation for all this?”
“What are you doing?” I demanded, trying to stop Lopez. “You can’t take him to the precinct house!”
Lopez replied, with patience that seemed to be fraying, “I have to question him.”
“We have rights,” I said. “You can’t make him go with you!”
“Esther,” Max pleaded, “calm down, I’m sure everything will be fine.”
I was far from sure of that. “No, Max, he can’t force you!”
“Not this very minute,” Lopez agreed. “If you’ll just give me a little time, though, I’ll come back with a warrant.”
“A warrant?” I blurted.
“If he won’t come voluntarily with me now for questioning, Esther, that’s the way it’ll have to be,” Lopez warned.
The bastard! “I can’t believe I almost went out to dinner with you!”
“You did?” Whoopsy said, horrified.
Khyber said to Whoopsy, “You have to admit he’s hot.”
Max said to me, “So you’ve met a young man you like? How nice!�
��
“I don’t like him that much,” I said, glaring at Lopez.
“You were going to date him?” Dixie asked.
“Honey, I’d date him,” said Delilah. “If he weren’t, you know, trying to arrest Dr. Zadok.” She leaned closer to Dixie and added, “Don’t you just love his eyes?”
“I don’t think he’s very nice,” Dixie said, shaking her head.
“Now, Dixie. Manners,” Duke admonished. “The man’s got a job to do, same as you and me.”
“But his job is interfering with our job,” Satsy said. “Detective, we need Dr. Zadok to help us find the disappearees!”
I said to Lopez, “Max hasn’t done anything wrong!”
“Then he’s got nothing to worry about,” Lopez replied. “Shall we go, Dr. Zadok?”
“All right,” Max said, trying to be a good citizen.
“No, Max!” I grabbed his arm and pulled him away from Lopez.
“You’re not helping him this way,” Lopez warned me.
“Why can’t you question him here?” I demanded.
“How will we know if there’s another localized dimensional disturbance if Max isn’t here to sense it?” Satsy cried.
“How will we get Dolly the Dancing Cowgirl and Sexy Samson back from the other side?” Delilah asked, getting teary again.
“Or possibly from another time-space reality?” Barclay added.
Lopez looked at me. “This is why I can’t question him here.”
I rubbed my forehead, then stopped when I realized I was getting tabloid ink on it. I had to admit Lopez’s position was not entirely devoid of reason. And there seemed to be no realistic way of preventing him from doing what he wanted, anyhow.
“All right,” I said. “But I’m coming with you.”
“Actually,” said Lopez, “I would prefer that Mr. Preston-Cole come with us. I have some questions for him, too.”
Dixie seized Barclay’s hand. “He can’t go with you! We have to rehearse!”
“Rehearse?” Duke repeated.
“Barclay’s not going to miss his big break at the Magic Cabaret tomorrow,” Dixie announced.
“That’s not tomorrow,” I said, “it’s Saturday.”
“Tomorrow is Saturday, Esther,” Lopez said.
“Oh!” I’d lost track. “How time flies when you’re fighting Evil.”
“Indeed,” Max said.
“What?” Lopez said.
“Never mind,” I said.
“We talked about it last night,” Dixie told us all, “and I’m going to perform with Barclay tomorrow.”
“What?” cried Satsy.
“Honey, no!” Delilah protested.
“You can’t do that!” Max cried. “It’s not safe!”
“It’s sure not!” Duke agreed.
“Dr. Zadok, Mr. Preston-Cole,” Lopez said, “let’s go.”
No one paid any attention to him.
“I’ll be perfectly safe,” Dixie said firmly. “We won’t do the disappearing act.”
“Well, that might be all right,” Khyber said judiciously.
“Can we be sure?” Satsy asked.
“Yes,” Dixie insisted. “The disappearing act is the only thing we have to fear. “
I saw Lopez’s expression as he looked at me. “Don’t look at me like that.”
“As long as we leave that out of the show,” Dixie continued, “there’s no reason to worry about us performing tomorrow.”
“Boy, I don’t know, Dixie,” Duke said, shaking his head.
“Daddy, I promised Barclay, and I won’t let down a friend.”
“What do you think, Dr. Zadok?” Barclay asked. “I’ll cancel the show if you don’t think it’s safe.”
Lopez scowled and folded his arms, looking at me as if this delay was my fault. I scowled back.
While we glared at each other, Max stroked his beard and said, “Well, as long as you don’t attempt the disappearing act until we’ve solved this case…”
“Speaking of solving—” Lopez blinked when Delilah shushed him.
Max nodded. “Yes, all right. I believe Dixie and Barclay can safely perform at the cabaret.”
Dixie squealed with delight and gave Barclay a hug. Barclay blushed and said to Duke, “That is, if it’s okay with you, sir?”
“As long as you make sure I get a good seat for the show!” Duke replied. “I can’t miss seeing my little girl onstage in New York City, now can I?”
“Oh, Daddy!”
Barclay and Duke shook hands.
“Esther,” Barclay asked, “is it okay if we miss some research duty today so we can go rehearse?”
“Of course,” I replied. “The show must go on.”
Lopez said to Barclay, in a cop tone that made further protest seem unwise, “First, we have some business to take care of down at the station. Let’s go.”
Looking pale and wide-eyed at this reminder, Barclay said, “I think I should call my lawyer.”
“You’re not under arrest,” Lopez said, “I’m just asking you to answer some questions, as a law-abiding citizen, about Clarisse Staunton.”
“Oh, God!” Barclay looked panicky. Dixie murmured encouraging words to him.
“I’m coming with you,” I said firmly to Lopez.
“Suit yourself,” he replied.
“No, Esther.” Max squared his chubby shoulders. “I need you to stay here and mind the store for me. Please?”
“Max…”
“I was once questioned by the Inquisition,” he said, trying to reassure me. “I feel sure this won’t be that bad.”
I didn’t like letting him go without me, but I doubted I could help him much at the police station anyhow, and I hated to refuse a request he was making with such a heartfelt expression.
“All right,” I said. “I’ll wait here for you.”
“Let’s go, gentlemen.” As they left, Lopez looked over his shoulder at me. “You and I will talk later.”
It sounded much more like a threat than a promise.
CHAPTER
9
Whoopsy checked in by phone later that day. “Any news from the prisoners yet?”
“They’re not prisoners, they’re just being questioned in connection with the case,” I replied.
“Sweetie, you are so naive. A good-looking cop turns on the charm, and—”
“I haven’t noticed him making much effort to be charming to me,” I said grumpily.
“He’s had them in custody—”
“They’re not in custody,” I insisted.
“—for hours.”
I glanced at the clock. It was late afternoon by now, and I was more worried than I was letting on to anyone. “Don’t worry. Barclay’s got lawyers.”
“Speaking from experience,” Whoopsy said, “a fat lot of good that’ll be in dealing with police persecution.”
“How about you?” I decided to change the subject. “Any luck in the stacks today?”
“Yeah! Delilah and I found something interesting. An account of a magician who vanished onstage.”
“One that Max doesn’t know about?”
“It’s not part of our case. This was yonks ago.”
“How many yonks?”
“Many. This was back in the days of vaudeville. I looked the guy up, just in case, but no luck. He’s been dead for years. Natural causes.”
“But he vanished onstage?” This was the first case we’d come across that sounded at all similar to ours.
“Well, he didn’t exactly vanish. He was onstage one Saturday afternoon, doing his regular act, and he gradually got sort of…transparent for a while.”
“Huh?”
“Kind of see-through. Not invisible, but an eyewitness claimed he could see through him.”
“It was part of the act?”
“No, apparently the magician didn’t realize what was happening. Just kept on delivering his patter, as if nothing odd was going on. And then, slowly, the effect reversed and he lo
oked normal again.”
“Did anyone ask him how he’d done it?”
“Yes. But he had no idea. It just happened.”
“Hmm.”
“We found this account under a whole category of similar cases we’re reading about, all spontaneous and involuntary. So far, no real disappearees, they’re all just people who got a little transparent for a while. This one rang a bell with me, though, because he was doing a magic act onstage at the time.”
“Good work, Whoopsy. Let me know if you turn up anything else.”
“Roger. I’ll check in later to see if the prisoners have been freed.”
“They’re not—” But he’d already hung up.
I walked over to the table where Duke, Dixie and Satsy sat with piles of books. They all wore identical expressions of anxiety.
“Was that news about Max and Barclay?” Duke asked.
“I’m afraid not.” I was about to relate Whoopsy’s anecdote when the bell chimed, heralding a new arrival. I peeked eagerly around a bookcase to see who it was. “Oh. Hieronymus.” I couldn’t keep the disappointment out of my voice. I glanced behind me and saw three pairs of shoulders sag after hearing me greet him. I relieved a little of my nervous tension by saying snappishly, “Where have you been all day?”
Hieronymus glared at me, then walked to the back of the shop with his head down, looking sullen.
“That boy is useless,” I muttered.
“Someone ought to tell him that Max is being questioned by the police,” said Satsy.
“If ‘someone’ means me,” I said, “then it can wait. I’m in no mood for his sulks.”
“I’ll do it.” Dixie patted my hand. “You shouldn’t have to do everything, Esther.”
She was a sweet girl. “Thanks, Dixie. He’s probably gone down to the lab. It’s—”
“Back of the shop, down the stairs?”
“Right. Uh, the lab is a little weird. So is Hieronymus.”
She made a pretty little gesture indicating she didn’t mind, then went off to inform Hieronymus that his master had been taken down to the station house by Detective Lopez.
I stared at the display board, wondering if there was any relevance to the story Whoopsy had just told me.
I read what I’d already written under the names of each victim: Not afraid. Wanted to stay. Spontaneous??? MADE TO DISAPPEAR.
Why would someone or something make four magicians’ assistants disappear?
Disappearing Nightly Page 14