This one rang a bell with me, though, Whoopsy had said, because he was doing a magic act onstage at the time.
But that incident wasn’t really similar to our cases. The guy hadn’t vanished, he’d just gone a bit transparent. And it had happened to him, not to an assistant.
Why make a magician’s assistant disappear?
Or maybe…maybe that wasn’t the most obvious question, I realized slowly. Maybe the question I’d been overlooking was…
I slapped my forehead. “Of course!”
Duke jumped. “What?”
“There’s something else we know about the victims,” I said. “Something so obvious, I can’t believe I didn’t think of it before!”
“That’s how it is with obvious things,” Satsy said. “But, darlin’, what’s obvious?”
I wrote it under Golly’s name, then wrote the same word under the name of each of the other victims:
Onstage.
“Every one of them disappeared onstage,” I said. “While in performance.”
“Well…yes. So?” Satsy shrugged. Then his eyes widened. “Oh. Oooh.”
“Great balls of fire!” said Duke.
“As far as we know, these are the only disappearees so far. Since they were all onstage at the time…”
“Then that can’t be coincidence!”
“At least, coincidence seems unlikely. That means that either an entity causing these disappearances specifically wants the victims to disappear during performance, or else the right conditions for disappearance only occur during performance.”
“Hot damn, I think you’re onto something, Esther!” cried Duke. “Pardon my language.”
“So why would someone or something want the disappearances to occur during a performance?” I asked.
“Publicity?” Satsy guessed. “To spread panic? To demonstrate power? To prove something to the public?”
“Hmm. Public attention,” I mused. “That might explain why there’ve been multiple disappearances. Maybe the, er, perpetrator never realized that the Herlihys would keep the disappearance of someone as almost-famous as Golly Gee so quiet after it happened.”
“Right,” Duke said. “Maybe the son of a gun thought it’d be in all the morning papers or something!”
“And when that didn’t happen,” Satsy said, “he…she…it…uh, the perpetrator caused another disappearance, hoping this one would draw attention! And when that didn’t work, either—”
“Wait a minute,” I said, spotting the flaws.
“What?”
“I don’t think it makes sense.” I shook my head. “If you wanted to be sure the disappearances would be noticed, would you really choose a B-list pop singer in an off-Broadway show with a scant audience?”
“Well…”
“And when that didn’t create public furor, would your next victim be Clarisse Staunton, an amateur performing in a private household for some children?”
“Hmm. I think I see your point,” Duke said.
I nodded. “If public attention is the goal, why pick these victims? Why not choose a really famous act, such as David Copperfield? Why not arrange for a disappearance to happen on live television? Or in front of a packed house on Broadway? Why not choose someone whose disappearance would be difficult to keep quiet for days—or even hours?”
“Like the mayor!” said Satsy.
“Or Donald Trump!” said Duke.
“Oooh,” said Satsy. “Wouldn’t it be cool to make Donald Trump disappear?”
“Also,” I said, “once you realized that Joe Herlihy wasn’t eager to publicize what had happened, why go to the trouble of making more victims vanish? Why not just make sure that a bright spotlight got turned on Golly’s disappearance, despite the magician’s silence?”
“Good point,” Duke said. “So far, there’s just one inside-page tabloid story about Miss Golly Gee and one quick paragraph about the Great Hidalgo misplacing his assistant during his act. That seems like a pretty pitiful PR effort for something powerful enough to make four people disappear within a week.”
“So, all things considered,” I said, “I think we can say that the quest for public attention is not why the disappearances are occurring onstage.”
“So what else could be the reason?” Duke wondered aloud.
“Someone is trying to destroy the acts?” Satsy suggested.
“An enemy of all four magicians?” I considered this. “Barclay’s a banker and Joe’s married to a producer,” I noted, “so I’m sure they’ve both got more enemies than we could count. It would probably be more productive to figure out who Duke’s and Delilah’s enemies are and narrow it down from there.”
“All my enemies are in the condom business,” Duke said. “In magic, as far as I know, I’ve got only friends.”
That was one of the advantages of its being his hobby rather than his profession, I supposed.
“I don’t think Delilah has any enemies,” Satsy said. “Especially not in the condom business.”
“Hmm.” It seemed unlikely that the magicians or the assistants, with their varied backgrounds, all shared an enemy. Still, we couldn’t rule out the possibility until we could get them all together for a detailed group interview.
I drummed my fingers on the table, thinking aloud. “Why else might someone want the disappearances to occur during performance?”
“A joke?” Satsy suggested. “A particularly cruel one.”
“That’s a possibility,” I said. “Each time it happens, the magician panics in front of a live audience.”
Satsy said, “Some sick perpetrator might find that hysterically funny.”
“You mean, all of this might just be done for kicks?” Duke said in outrage.
“Maybe,” Satsy said.
I leaned back in my chair, contemplating another argument. “On the other hand, maybe it’s just that, for some reason, the conditions for disappearance only occur during performance.”
“In which case,” Duke said, “we’re back to asking, why does someone want to make the victims disappear?”
“If their disappearance is something that someone wants,” I said, starting to chase my tail. “Do you think it’s at all possible that the disappearances are just…” I shrugged. “I don’t know…an accident?”
“If they are,” Satsy said, “then why is this happening all of a sudden?”
“I never made Dolly disappear before,” Duke pointed out.
“And four disappearances? In one week? An accident?” Satsy shook his head. “You’re getting tired, Esther.”
“Yes, I am.” It had been a while since I’d had a good night’s sleep, and my brain was so stuffed with weird theories and demented speculation, I felt like it would start dribbling out my ears any moment. I put my head down on my arms and closed my eyes, trying to relax.
I heard footsteps, then Dixie’s voice. “Well, now, that Hieronymus isn’t so bad!”
I didn’t even open my eyes. Just listened.
She pulled up a chair. “He’s painfully shy, poor guy, and it sure is easy to understand why. But he’s kind of sweet, if you just draw him out a little.”
“Humph,” I said.
“We got to chatting for a while.”
“My Dixie can make friends with anyone,” Duke said proudly.
“By the way, Esther?” Dixie said.
“Yes?” I yawned.
“Hieronymus says that he thinks we’re on the wrong track.”
“Of course he does,” I grumbled. The cellar-dwelling creep.
“He’s been out all day chasing down a lead. He says he thinks the culprit in the disappearances is a mundane. He says we should look for someone with access to the prop boxes.”
“Well, that makes some sense,” said Duke.
“He’s really a very bright young man, Daddy. And a good listener, too.”
“Don’t tell Lopez about this,” I muttered. “I had all kinds of access to the crystal cage. And he already suspects me�
�.”
“Pardon, Esther?” Dixie said.
“She’s awfully tired,” Duke said. “Let her be, honey.”
I felt someone pat my back, and Satsy said, “Why don’t you take a little nap, Esther?”
“No,” I said. “I’ll, uh…I should, um…”
I fell asleep with my cheek pressed against The Exposé.
The sound of someone pounding on something woke me.
As I opened one eye I realized where I was, and lifted my head. I looked around, disoriented and groggy. I was alone at the table. The Exposé was creased and smeared from my sleeping with my face pressed against it. It was dark outside the shop window. Someone had turned on a light nearby, not close enough to wake me but close enough to ensure I wouldn’t wake up in the dark.
The pounding continued, and I realized someone was at the door. I rose to go see what the problem was, but then a note propped up near my arm caught my eye. I picked it up and read it, ignoring the pounding for a moment:
Esther,
Barclay called Dixie’s cell phone. He and Max are free! Details to follow.
We’re locking the front door and going to dinner. Then Duke and Dixie are coming with me to the Pony Expressive, to see the show and keep Delilah company. She needs moral support. Max and Barclay are coming back here to feed you and then bring you to the club, too. We all think you need a night off.
Satsy
Relieved that Max and Barclay weren’t behind bars now, I figured I’d join them for a quick bite and then go home. Right now, my idea of a perfect night off was a hot bath followed by a quiet glass of wine and an early bedtime.
I looked up when I heard footsteps. Hieronymus came from the back of the shop, heading for the front door. He jumped nervously when he saw me, then gave me an exasperated glare.
“Didn’t you notith the knocking?” he said.
“Um, yeah. I just woke up. Wait,” I said, as he continued toward the door. “What time is it? Are we closed now?”
Hieronymus opened the door, brushed past the person standing on the doorstep and walked away. I stuck my head out the door and called after him, “Wait! Where are you going? What did you find out today?” He pretended not to hear me, and I didn’t feel like running after him. “Oh, good riddance anyhow,” I muttered.
“Excuse me?” said the man on the doorstep.
“Oh! I’m sorry. I think we’re closed now.”
“I’m looking for Dr. Zadok.” He was tall, slim, dressed in a nice casual-wear suit without a tie. Clean-shaven, he appeared to be about fifty, looked East Indian and spoke with a Masterpiece Theater accent.
“He’s not in just now. But if you’ll come back during business hours tomorrow…”
“This isn’t bookstore business. May I wait for him?”
The man seemed quite respectable, so I decided to let him in. Just to be on the safe side, though, I said, “Actually, Max is on his way here now. Should be just a few minutes.”
“He’s all right, then?” the stranger asked eagerly.
I glanced at him in surprise as I turned on some lights. “Yes.” I showed him toward the table and chairs. “Did you have reason to think he wasn’t?”
“He hasn’t answered any of my recent e-mails.”
“He doesn’t have a computer anymore,” I said.
The stranger stared at me for a moment, then closed his eyes. His lips worked silently, and I had the impression he was trying to control his temper. “Ah,” he said at last, opening his eyes. “Well, then. That explains it. And I seem to have wasted a trip.”
“Why didn’t you just phone?”
“I did. Several times. No answer.”
“Oh.” I had already noticed that Max had no answering machine. “Well, he’s been out of the shop a lot lately, Mr….”
He exclaimed, “I’m so sorry! Do forgive my lapse of manners. Allow me to introduce myself. Lysander Singh.”
“Esther Diamond.” We shook hands, then took our seats. “Can I offer you something? Tea? Water? Um…” I wasn’t sure what else we had on hand. I definitely didn’t want to search that big cupboard for the aqua vitae.
“Nothing just now, thank you.”
He studied my face, looking as if he was trying to decide whether to say something about my appearance. I scrubbed self-consciously at my cheeks, realizing they must be filthy with tabloid ink. “We’ve been working so hard lately,” I said. “I, uh, fell asleep on the job.”
His brows lifted. “You’re an employee here?”
“No, I’m…a friend of Max’s.”
“One whom he trusts enough to leave in charge here, I see.” His tone was courteous, but I sensed disapproval.
“Yes.”
“May I ask where Max is?”
“Police station.” I was still groggy. Otherwise I might not have answered so directly.
“Has there been a mishap?”
“You might say that.”
“The shop’s been burgled?”
“No…I…It’s complicated.”
“I see.” After an awkward moment, he asked, “Is Max’s assistant here? I think perhaps I should speak with him.”
“That was him just now,” I grumbled. “Leaving. Without warning, apology or explanation.”
“That was Hieronymus?”
“You know Hieronymus?” I asked in surprise.
“Well, we’ve never met…” His gaze roamed over the books stacked all over the table, then moved to the display board, which was covered in my multicolored notes. After a moment, he said faintly, with a frown, “There’ve been four mystical disappearances here?”
I gasped and rose to my feet. “Who are you?”
“As I said, Lysan—”
“Where did you come from?” I demanded, backing away in dawning fear. Could he be our nemesis?
“Altoona,” he said. “Young woman, there’s no reason to—”
“Altoona?” The word sounded exotic and otherworldly. “Is that in another dimension?”
He blinked. “Er, no, it’s in Pennsylvania.”
“What? Oh!” I stopped backing away. “Oh. That Altoona.” My family had once stopped there for lunch on a road trip to the East Coast, during my childhood. “You…Are you causing these disappearances?”
“So there are disappearances occurring?” Then realizing what I’d just asked, he added, “No, of course I’m not causing anything! And who, may I ask, are you?”
“I’ll ask the questions, Singh,” I said, imitating Lopez’s cop tone. “What’s your business here?”
“Now see here, young woman—”
“Sit down,” I barked as he started to rise.
Startled, he sat.
“You’re no friend of Max’s,” I said, attempting to bluff the truth out of him.
“I never claimed to be,” he said tersely.
“Well?” I prodded in a menacing tone.
“I’m…a colleague of his.”
I gasped. “You’re with the Collegium!”
“He told you about the Collegium?” Singh sounded scandalized. His gaze flashed to the display board and he added, his tone growing genuinely appalled, “He’s told you about these disappearances!”
“So that’s how you know Hieronymus’s name,” I said. “You knew he’d been assigned to Max as an assistant.”
“As the most longstanding representative of the Magnum Collegium in the eastern half of the United States at this time,” Singh said, “I, in fact, authorized the assignment.”
I returned to my chair and sank into it. “Well, now we know who to blame.”
“For the disappearances?” he said in confusion.
“For burdening Max with that sulking, smirking, uncommunicative cellar-dweller who’s never around when you need him.”
“Am I to understand that you’re criticizing a junior member of the Collegium?” His tone could have frosted glass.
“I’m also criticizing you, Lysander,” I said, feeling all the crankiness of the
day return in full force.
His posture became even more rigid. “I realize, from the reports of his apprenticeship, that the poor boy’s unfortunate affliction prevents him from uttering certain incantations accurately, causing some unpredictable results. But I don’t see how that is any of your affair, young woman. Moreover, I would have thought that compassion rather than contempt would be the civilized response to his predicament, even in a savage outpost like New York City.”
“‘Savage outpost’? Oh, for God’s sake! This is the greatest—Wait, no, never mind.” I controlled myself and focused on the most relevant part of his comments. “Look, if Hieronymus’s speech impediment makes him a danger—”
“I didn’t say that. Besides there was only that one mishap.”
“Only that one?” I repeated.
“I think only a petty personality would count the others,” he said, eyeing me coldly.
I thought of the orange explosion in Max’s cellar the other day. “How many have there been?”
“Ah. I begin to understand,” Singh said in a snide tone. “You’re hoping to replace Hieronymus. You have ambitions to follow in Max’s footsteps.”
“Of course not,” I snapped. “I’m hoping to go back onstage as Virtue and move the show to Broadway.”
“What?”
“I’m involved with these people because of the disappearances,” I said, “and my objection to Hieronymus is that he’s rude, and also the worst team player I’ve ever met.”
“Fighting Evil is not a team sport, young woman!”
“My name is Esther!”
“And it’s not entirely surprising that Hieronymus’s manners might be a bit strained, considering that Max is evidently giving mundanes free access to his work, his lab and the secrets of the Collegium! This is most irregular!”
“Yeah, I guessed that,” I said. “But we’ve got a huge problem on our hands here, and Max can’t handle it all alone! By now, half a dozen of us have been on the job for forty-eight hours—though, frankly, it feels like much, much longer than that—and we’re still a long way from solving these disappearances or finding the victims. And I don’t see that Max’s ‘assistant’ is helping him much.”
“You are no judge of his assistant’s contributions. Or of the challenges facing us in our sacred work!”
Disappearing Nightly Page 15