Julia thought, then said, “It would have to be Alfred Hitchcock.”
Olivia clapped her hands. “Mine, too. Oh, we’ll get along splendidly. Please, Julia, say you’ll be my new nurse.”
Yes,” Julia said, smiling. “When shall I begin?”
“Right now. Can you stay until five?”
“Yes, of course.”
Roland moved toward the door. “I’ll call the agency with the happy news.”
“Wonderful,” Olivia said with a grin.
Chapter Six
Back in the Catskills
Emma walked to Harry’s dressing room. She was concerned about Roy being in debt to a loan shark and wanted to get Harry’s take on things. She also wanted an opportunity to talk to Harry alone. Since Bardot had showed up on the scene, Harry hadn’t paid any attention to her. Emma was crushed because she’d always been Harry’s favorite. Now, she felt she’d been replaced by a Vegas bombshell.
She knocked on the door. “Harry? It’s Emma. Can I have a word with you before rehearsal?”
Harry didn’t answer.
Emma tested the doorknob, and found it wasn’t locked. She gently opened the door. She scanned the small room, and when she found Harry wasn’t there, she stepped inside. Her eyes were drawn to a side table with a blueprint lying on top of it. She walked over to the drawing and studied it. Hand-drawn with blue ink was a small version of the magician’s box. She read the description out loud: “Cat will be placed in box. Its back legs will be braced as shown.” She couldn’t read any more. She couldn’t believe her eyes. Her face clouded with anger.
“Oh, no,” she said, horrified. “I’ve got to stop this.”
“Stop what?” Harry asked, entering the room. “Hey, what are you doing looking at my stuff?”
“Harry, you’ve gone too far. You can’t do this.”
“Oh, really? So you’re the boss now.”
Emma stood her ground. “Your audience will hate this, and hate you for doing it.”
“It’s just a routine with the Siamese.”
“Cadabra will never stand for this.”
“Who said I was using Cadabra. It’s Abra. Roy will train her to do it, and if she can’t do the trick, I’ll find another cat that will. The animal shelter is full of cats begging to be adopted.”
“I’m pretty much sure if you go through with this, the animal welfare people will be on you like a tick on a deer. And if . . . if . . . Abra dies or is hurt,” she stammered. “You’ll go to jail!”
“Out!” Harry shouted angrily. “Get out of my dressing room, before I throw you out. If I find out you’ve mentioned this to anyone, I’ll fire you so fast your head will spin.”
Emma was taken aback by Harry’s loud burst of anger. “Fine,” she said, storming out, slamming the door behind her.
She refused to keep this a secret. She had to find Roy. First, she checked his dressing room. When she didn’t find him there, she rushed to the small kitchen area. Warren sat at one of the tables, drinking a cup of coffee.
Emma walked over to him. She stood with her arms crossed. “How dare you design that cat version of the magician’s box,” she accused angrily.
“Frankly, I don’t see how this is any of your business,” he replied smugly.
“I’m making it my business. I’m going to make sure no cats will ever be part of this trick.”
“I only do what I’m paid to do. Why don’t you do the same and mind your own business. So, if that’s all, why don’t you take a flying leap and get out of my face.”
“Jerk,” Emma said, stomping off.
She nearly bumped into one of the stagehands. “Have you seen Roy?”
“Watch where you’re going,” he said, annoyed.
“I’m looking for Roy. Have you seen him?” she asked again, this time with an irritated tone in her voice.
“He’s on-stage. Isn’t that where you’re supposed to be?” the stagehand asked sarcastically.
Emma glanced at her watch. “Oh, no, I’m late. Listen, thanks for the info.” She ran to the stage area and found Roy.
The Siamese cats were on their barstools, standing tall, until they saw Emma. Then Cadabra leaped down and ran over to her.
Emma picked her up. “Little girl, you’ve got to go back to the stool.”
Roy said, aggravated, “Set her down, Emma. Cadabra. Back,” he said, clicking his clicker.
“Waugh,” Cadabra meowed in a troubled voice.
“Now!” Roy commanded.
Cadabra raced to the stool, jumped up, and stood tall. Roy moved over and gave her a treat.
“Good girl,” he praised, then to Emma, “While you were at lunch, I taught the cats the scaredy-cat routine.”
“You did? You should have let me know. I wanted to be here.”
“Sorry about your luck.”
“Roy, I’ve got to talk to you before Harry shows up.”
“Why?”
“Harry is having a magician’s box made for a cat, and he’s adamant that Abra will do the sawing-in-half trick.”
“That’s nuts. He can’t do that.”
“But, he is. I saw the drawing of the horrific thing in his dressing room.”
“Snooping? Or was it a chance meeting with the boss?” Roy asked facetiously.
“I wasn’t snooping,” Emma defended. “I wanted to talk to him before the rehearsal. He wasn’t there. I couldn’t help but notice the drawing.”
“It seems to me it would be dangerous for an animal to do this trick.”
“I know. I can only think of the unspeakable things that could happen if Abra didn’t do what she was trained to do.”
“Calm down. I’ll act surprised when Harry tells me about it, then I’ll try to talk him out of it.”
“Okay, you’re the best.”
Roy winked. “I’ll take that as a compliment,” then he added, “That explains something.”
“Explains what?”
“That Warren guy was just here. He took a measurement of Abra. When I asked him why, he said it was for a new costume.”
“Yeah, right,” Emma spit. “I just spoke to him in the break room. He told me to mind my own business.”
“Warren is always trying to get brownie points with the boss. Where’s Harry now?”
“I left him in his dressing room.”
“Hello, Roy,” Harry greeted, walking across the stage. He had a bounce in his step. He ignored Emma.
Bardot joined them, center-stage. “Good afternoon, everyone,” she said in a gravelly voice. She had a beautiful mane of long, blonde hair.
Harry made introductions. “Bardot, this is Roy, my animal trainer, and this is Emma, my royal pain-in-the-neck.”
Bardot looked surprised. “Why is this young girl a pain-in-the-neck?” she asked Harry.
Harry didn’t answer.
Emma’s face reddened. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Likewise. I’ve already met Roy,” Bardot said.
“Enough with the introductions, let’s get the show on the road,” Harry said. “Roy, put the cats back in their carrier. We’ll start from the beginning.”
“But that’s my job,” Emma protested.
Roy grabbed her by the arm. “Come on.”
They left the stage and stood by the carrier. Roy clicked his clicker and the Siamese jumped off their stools. They ran off-stage, side-by-side, like two horses in a Roman chariot race.
Roy opened the carrier’s gate and the cats dashed inside. He quickly latched it.
Emma said to Roy in a quiet voice. “What are we going to do? If Harry goes through with this, and something terrible happens to Abra, I’ll never forgive myself. I swear, if he kills her, I’ll murder him.”
“Calm down, Emma. Don’t let anyone hear you say that.”
“I’m just so upset.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll figure something out.”
“Raw,” Abra commiserated.
“It’s okay, sweetie,” Emma co
nsoled the Siamese, then said to Roy, “I love her so much.”
“I know you do,” Roy said, hugging her.
Harry yelled. “Hey, you two, what’s the hold up? I don’t have all day.”
Roy squeezed the spring-loaded latch and opened the gate. He said to the Siamese, “One . . . two . . . three, now, go—go—go.”
The cats flew back onto the stage and sprang to their barstools.
Up above the stage, in the sound booth, an engineer flipped a switch and eerie music began to play. The cats swiveled their ears forward and then backwards, in dislike of the music, which sounded like a modern twist on a 1950’s Sci-Fi score.
Cadabra sneezed at Bardot’s strong perfume, and assumed a meerkat stance. She stood up on her hind legs, dangled her forepaws, and sniffed the air. She turned her head to face Bardot, then she sneezed a second time.
Harry called to Roy. “Why’s she doing that?”
“She must be allergic to Bardot’s cheap perfume,” Roy said glibly.
“Now wait a minute, Mister,” Bardot protested. “My perfume ain’t cheap.”
“That’s what you call perfume?” Harry asked, joining in on the joke. “It smells more like bug spray. Sorry, my dear, don’t wear it on stage anymore. We can’t have the cats sneezing during a performance.”
Bardot gave a dejected look. “You’re the boss.”
Cadabra sneezed one last time.
***
After the rehearsal, Emma packed up the Siamese, and bungeed their cat carrier to a rolling luggage cart. Roy stepped over and said, “Maybe you should leave the cats here tonight?”
“Why? I’m taking them to my Grammy’s house.”
“I just checked the weather app on my new phone, and there’s a big storm heading our way.”
“I’ve driven in rain before,” Emma said.
“You win. Be careful. See you tomorrow night,” Roy said, then added, “Harry wants us here two hours before the show.”
“I can do that.”
“Don’t feed the cats tomorrow. They perform better when they’re hungry.”
“Got it,” Emma said.
Roy went back on stage and began flirting with Bardot.
Emma whispered to the cats, “We’re going to Grammy’s house. Trust me. There’ll be lots of food.”
Cadabra ran her tongue over her lips.
Emma giggled. “And, in the morning, Grammy will make you a great breakfast, too.”
She threw her cross-body bag over her shoulder, then wheeled the cart to the hotel exit. Opening the door, she was hit by a blast of hot, humid, late-spring air. A group of tourists were standing nearby. She was glad they ignored her. Usually she was bombarded by curious onlookers wanting to look in at the cats. That’s a first, she thought. The Siamese had many fans.
She wheeled the cart off the curb onto the paved lot and headed toward the back of the parking lot. She peeked in at the cats. They were spooned together. Cadabra was grooming Abra’s head.
“You guys are awfully quiet,” she observed. “Quiet before the storm,” she kidded.
A loud clap of thunder sounded overhead.
“Oh, no. I think I just jinxed it.” Emma began to wheel faster.
Abra whined.
“I know, sweetie. I don’t like storms either. I’ll try to get us to the car ASAP.”
Halfway to the car, the rain started — first a few drops pelted the top of the carrier, then a torrential downpour began.
“Just great,” Emma complained, getting drenched. She took off her summer-weight jacket and threw it over the cat carrier. She picked up her pace and ran the luggage cart through rows of parked cars until she found her Toyota Corolla. Hurriedly, she fumbled with her keys, and unlocked the door on the passenger side. She placed the carrier on the seat and secured it with the seat belt.
Emma startled when a strike of lightning hit nearby. Smelling the ozone, she panicked. She quickly collapsed the luggage cart and threw it on the back seat, then ran to the driver’s side. Getting in, she said to the cats, “Sorry about this.” She fired up the engine, and turned on the windshield wipers, which could barely keep up with the rain.
A second clap of thunder boomed overhead.
The Siamese began shrieking.
Clutching the steering wheel, she turned and looked inside the cat carrier. Quoting a famous Bette Davis line, she said, “Fasten your seatbelts, it’s going to be a bumpy night.”
Abra pawed the steel-wire door. Cadabra wailed a shrill howl. The Siamese began caterwauling.
“I’ve got to drive, so I want you two to settle down.”
The cats shrilled louder.
Emma drove out of the parking lot and made her way to the highway that would take them to Nyack. The Friday late-afternoon traffic was bumper-to-bumper. The cats continued their incessant, loud yowls.
“Please, calm down. You’re making me more nervous than I already am,” Emma said uneasily. “I’ve got things to figure out.”
She thought about the other reasons why she was so stressed. She had to find a way to stop Harry from endangering the lives of the cats. She knew going against Harry would get her fired, so she added the quandary of finding a new job to her problem list. She worried about Roy borrowing money from a loan shark. She knew he didn’t spend twenty-five grand on moving his new wife from Ohio. She’d worked long enough with him to know he liked to play the slots at the casino. And, the Mount Everest of worries, she thought, I’ve fallen in love with the Siamese.
She said aloud to the cats, “I’ve got to find a way to keep you. I can’t let that jerk Harry hurt you.”
The Siamese became quiet, and snuggled up to take a nap.
Once at her grandmother’s house, Emma parked in the back of the Victorian, underneath a covered carport. She climbed out, and lifted the cat carrier. Her grandmother, Pearl, met her at the rear door.
“You got lucky. It stopped raining a few minutes ago,” Pearl said.
“Hi, Grammy. We’re back.”
“I see that,” Pearl said with a big grin. “Hurry in. I’ve got a pot roast in the oven with potatoes, onions, and carrots, cooked the way you like it.”
“Aw, I love you, Grammy,” Emma said fondly. “The cats are stressed from the drive, and the thunderstorm didn’t help. I think I’ll lock them up in my bedroom.”
“Lock them up? My word, let’s not make that mistake again. I closed the doors to the rooms with the breakables. They can run all they like. Oh, and while you were gone, I went to the pet store and bought cat food — the premium stuff.”
“Oh, that was sweet. They’ll love it. They haven’t eaten all day, except for the treats Roy gave them.”
“Come to the kitchen,” Pearl directed, walking through the mudroom to a kitchen with appliances that hadn’t been updated since the sixties. She moved over to the gas stove and turned the oven dial off. “How was work today?”
“Roy taught the Siamese a new trick.”
“He’s the animal trainer, right?”
“Uh, huh, he’s very good at his job, but sometimes he can be Mr. Creepy.”
“Mr. Creepy? How do you mean?”
“He’s like thirty years older than me, but he says these cheesy pick-up lines,” Emma said, setting the carrier down. “I get along with him okay, but sometimes his innuendos bother me.” She opened the carrier, but the Siamese remained inside. “It’s okay, girls. Come on out. We’re safe here. No more storm.”
The Siamese shifted from side-to-side, then sat down on their haunches.
“I bet they’re hungry,” Pearl said. “I’ll feed them now.” She opened a can, scooped out dollops of food, and put it on china plates. “Here, kitty, kitties,” she said, placing the dishes on the floor by the refrigerator.
The Siamese sniffed the air, then darted out of the carrier. They raced over to the plates and began eating ravenously. “Raw,” Abra said in a muffled voice.
“You’re welcome,” Pearl laughed. “What’s the name of
the one that just talked?”
“That’s Abra. The other one is Cadabra.”
“How can you tell them apart?”
“Abra is a bit smaller than her sister.”
“My goodness, they’re hungry,” Pearl observed.
“Roy says cats are easier to train when they’re hungry. When they do a good job or learn something new, he gives them a treat, so it’s not like he’s starving them.”
“Speaking of starving, can you set the table while I take the roast out?”
“Sure, but let me do that. Where are the hot pads?”
“Here,” Pearl said, handing them to her.
Emma opened the oven, removed the roast and set it on top of the stove. “Oh, my goodness, Grammy, you’ve outdone yourself. It smells delicious.”
***
After they finished their meal, Emma rose from the table and took the plates to the sink. “I need to talk to you about something,” she said seriously.
“By all means, come back and sit down,” Pearl said, concerned. “I know something is bothering you, because usually you’re talking my ear off, but tonight, you’ve hardly said a word.”
“I’ve got a problem at work,” Emma began, then recounted the magician’s box story to her grandmother. When finished, she asked, “What am I going to do?”
Without skipping a beat, Pearl advised, “Take the cats away from that awful man.”
“And, do what, Grammy? Where will I take them? They can’t live with me, because I travel all the time.”
“Well, that’s a no-brainer. Bring them here. I’ve got plenty of room in this old house for two little stage cats. It’s been lonely since my old tom cat died,” Pearl said sadly.
“I miss Boots too, but I can’t just take the cats.”
“I’d say it’s more like a rescue mission.”
“The cats are worth a fortune. Harry’s a jerk, but he’s not stupid. He’d smell a rat as soon as the cats went missing, and would call the police. I’d be the number-one suspect.”
“Let’s put our heads together and come up with a plan where we wouldn’t get caught,” Pearl plotted.
“Did you say we? I don’t want you involved in this.”
“Hear me out. Maybe after the performance, I can help.”
The Cats that Stopped the Magic Page 4