Disappearing Nightly (3 page)

My mouth was dry. He was much better than Joe. “Why aren’t you performing?” I asked.

“I used to. Too much traveling.” He hung the chain around my neck. The crystal rested between my breasts.

“Oh, I can’t accept this. I—”

“I insist. Wear it and think of Magnus and magic.”

“But—”

“At least think about it. If you don’t feel right about keeping it, you can return it. Sunday at dinner, perhaps?”

I heard footsteps overhead and remembered why I had come here. “I, uh, think I’d better get Joe’s cage.”

“You’ll want to take a look at it. It’s upstairs. I’ll just—” The phone rang. He smiled apologetically. “This will only take a minute. Excuse me.”

He exited conventionally, lifting aside the heavy red curtain for a moment and then letting it fall into place behind him.

The call took more than a minute. After five minutes, I got bored and called, “Magnus? Is it all right if I go upstairs?”

There was no answer. After calling to him once more without results, I headed for the stairwell at the back of the building. I didn’t need hi
s help to examine the cage, after all. I knew how the thing was supposed to work. I’d give the cage a quick once-over while he was on the phone, then sign any paperwork while it was being carried out to the truck.

The second floor was even dustier, darker and more chaotic than the showroom. Why did Magnus keep the windows covered? Was the work he did so secret? After fumbling in the dismal shadows, I found a yank-cord for an overhead light and turned it on. I surveyed the vast tumble of boxes and cartons and equipment, and wondered how I’d find the crystal cage.

Where was Magnus’s staff? I’d heard footsteps earlier. Surely a place this size needed a few people, especially with all the equipment they appeared to be building or repairing. I glanced at my watch: it was after six o’clock already. Magnus’s staff must have quit for the day.

I was shoving past a wooden crate when I heard footsteps again. They were directly above me, on the third floor. Maybe whoever was up there could help me find my cage. I went back to the stairs and called, “Hello? Is someone up there? Hello? Can you help me?”

Footsteps approached the stairs. I ascended a few steps. An anxious-looking, slightly exotic woman appeared above me. She was petite, Asian, and wearing a tight animal-print outfit. “Um, hi,” I said. “I’m a customer. Magnus is on the phone, and I—”

“Esther?” Magnus’s voice boomed from below. “Esther, are you up there?”

“Yes!”

He seemed to come up the steps in a single bound. “What are you doing?” He sounded a bit breathless.

“I thought I’d look at the cage while you were busy. I was asking one of your employees to help me.” I gestured over my shoulder and then looked toward the woman. “Oh. She’s gone.”

He put a large hand on my shoulder and turned me away from the stairs, guiding me back into the maze of cartons and equipment. “You should never come up here alone,” he said. “It can be very confusing.”

“Yes, that’s why I asked that woman—”

“But I’m here now. And here’s the cage, good as new.”

It was indeed as good as new—although it damn well should be, I thought minutes later when I saw Magnus’s bill. “Wow. No wonder Matilda is pissed off at me for tearing it apart.”

“You did quite a thorough job.”

“How was I to know Golly wasn’t inside?” I looked at him curiously, remembering the note I had received. “Do you think this thing is safe for me to get into?”

“Absolutely!” he boomed. “You have my personal guarantee. Besides, this crystal I gave you—” he seized the excuse to touch my chest “—will protect you from all evil.”

“Evil?” I pounced. “Why did you say that?”

He blinked. “Figure of speech.”

“Magnus, do you think…?”

“What, love?”

“Oh, never mind. Just load it into the truck, please.”

Considering how bulky and unwieldy the cage was, I had expected him to need help getting it out to the truck. Silly me. He wasn’t even breathing hard by the time he was done loading it on board. On the contrary, he still had enough wind left in him to ask me out to dinner again.

Joe was at the theater when I arrived for rehearsal the next day. I was already in full costume and makeup when one of the nymphs came up to me and said, “I slept in the dressing room last night.” She made a vague gesture. “Big fight with my now-ex.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“Anyhow, someone slid this under the door in the middle of the night.”

“In the middle of the night? But the whole place is supposed to be locked up.”

“I know. It scared the hell out of me. I didn’t have the guts to get up and see what it was until the sun came up.” She handed me an envelope. “Anyhow, it’s for you.”

To say my blood ran cold would not be overstating things. My hand trembled as I took the envelope. My name was written on it in an elegant, archaic-looking hand that I recognized with a sinking heart.

Beneath my name was a single sentence:

Do not risk it.

Feeling sick, I opened the envelope. There was nothing inside except a newspaper clipping.

It was enough.

D
etective Lopez looked like he’d had a rough night on the tiles. I had a feeling I looked worse. In any event, there was no doubt that I looked ridiculous. Virtue’s flowing yellow and gold robes, elaborate headdress and sparkling makeup looked distinctly out of place in the squad room. If we had been anyplace other than New York City, I would be attracting attention. As it was, Lopez stared at me as if he dearly hoped I was a figment of his imagination.

“Someone left this clipping at the theater last night,” I said, handing him the envelope. “I think it must have been the same person.”

“The man wearing a duster who thinks Evil is among us?”

Surprised he remembered yesterday’s
conversation so well, I blinked. Glitter fell from my lashes to my cheeks. I brushed it away. “Yes.”

“I don’t think your hair goes with that outfit,” he said, studying me with bloodshot eyes.

“Just read it,” I snapped.

“No, I mean, I
like
your hair,” he said. “I just don’t think…Um, never mind. Sorry. Late-night bust. I’m a little…” Lopez shook himself, then opened the envelope, took out the enclosed clipping and read aloud, “‘Woman Vanishes into Thin Air.’” He gave me an enigmatic glance and continued. “‘The Great Hidalgo’s Marvelous Carnival of Magic and Illusion brought Catherine Harrington Lowell’s eighth birthday party to a crashing halt in her parents’ Upper East Side home two days ago. Having caused his beautiful assistant to disappear, the Great Hidalgo was unsuccessful in any of his attempts t
o make the woman materialize again.’” He stared at me. “Oh, Christ. You can’t be serious.”

“Come on, Detective. Don’t you find this too improbable for coincidence? Two women disappear during vanishing acts, and now
I’m
being warned not to do the vanishing trick? Don’t you think something strange is going on?”

He was rubbing his forehead again. “I think it’s a hell of a tabloid story.”

“They don’t mention Golly. No one knows about that yet.”

He closed his eyes. “Are you actually suggesting—?”

“Don’t you think we should talk to this Hidalgo guy?”

His eyes snapped open. “We?”

“Yes. After all, I’m the one at risk here, and y—”

“So don’t do the trick, Esther.”

“It’s my job!”

He shook his head. “This is crazy! This is
really
…” He paused, took a long breath and seemed to count silently to ten or perhaps recite The Serenity Prayer. Then he said more calmly, “Look, if you’re really worried about vanishing into thin air, shouldn’t you be talking to Herlihy? He’s the one who made Golly Gee disappear, after all.”

“That’s exactly what he thinks.”

“Is it really?”

“He’s irrational on the subject. I don’t dare tell him about this.”

“But you felt obliged to tell
me,
” he said wearily.

“You’re the investigating officer.”

“Miss Diamond—”

“You called me Esther a minute ago,” I said inanely.

“And I’m already regretting the impulse,” he replied. “Look, aside from the fact that I am an extremely busy, overworked, underpaid—”

“But this is what you’re underpaid to do!”

“There still isn’t anything for an investigating officer to investigate.”

“But—”

“Show me a corpse!” He made a sharp gesture of exasperation. “Show me evidence of blackmail, extortion, kidnapping. Show me a woman who was acting strangely—”

“Golly always acted strangely.”

“I mean, a woman who had changed her habits lately,” he said, “who seemed to be afraid of something. Give me one witness who saw a stranger backstage. Show me signs of a struggle. I’m a dedicated cop, Esther. Make me believe a crime has been committed and I’ll be johnny-on-the-spot.”

I indicated the newspaper clipping. “But what about—?”

“No. Don’t.” He shook his head and put his hand over mine. “Don’t show me cryptic notes from a prankster or tell me that women are vanishing into thin air as part of some mysterious scheme perpetrated by the forces of Evil.”

I looked down at his hand covering mine. He did, too, for a moment; then he took a quick breath and drew away.

I gave myself a mental shake and said, “But how do you explain—?”

“How do
you
explain it? Tell me what you believe.”

It was a little hard to admit fears to him that I wasn’t even really admitting to myself. “Um…”

“Esther, come on. The night I questi
oned you at the theater, you seemed like the most sensible person there.”

“You remember me?”

His expression changed again. “I remember who had the tightest costume.”

“That’s not nice.”

He grinned. “On the contrary, I thought it was
very
nice.”

“You’re not supposed to talk to me this way,” I said. “You’re the investigating officer.”

“Good point.” He banished his smile, and I was sorry. “Please just tell me you don’t really believe you’ll blink out of existence if you do the vanishing trick.”

“No. Of course not,” I said. “Don’t be silly. No.”

He folded his arms. “Well, then?”

I felt kind of deflated. In the cold fluorescent light of the squad room, full of telephones, cops, coffee cups and criminals, I also felt pretty foolish. “So, I, uh, I guess I shouldn’t bother you if I receive any more of these—”

“Oh, no. Please stop by.” He grinned at me again. “These encounters are becoming the highlight of my dreary days.”

I sighed and rose from my chair. “I’m late for rehearsal. I should go.”

“Esther.” His voice stopped me as I turned to leave. “I’m serious. Let me know if you get any more warnings.”

I met his gaze. “I will. But you don’t think there’s anything to worry about.”

“I don’t. And I don’t want
you
to worry.” When I didn’t respond, he prodded, “Okay?”

I wasn’t as sure as he was, so I just repeated, “I’m late for rehearsal.” And I left.

The music cued me in to the final scene, the one where the Sorcerer tries to make Virtue vanish forever. Forever and ever and ever…Where
was
Golly?

I pushed the thought out of my mind. Lopez was right. And I wasn’t going to let a couple of silly notes and a mysterious disappearance destroy the show and ruin my career.

Besides, I’d done the vanishing trick many times during previous rehearsals. I knew exactly how it worked. There was nothing to be afraid of. Absolutely nothing.

Joe gave his speech, stumbling over his lines. His hands were shaking as he grabbed me and dragged me toward the crystal cage. His palms were so slick with sweat that he lost his grip on my arm and I went crashing to my knees, missing my song cue.

The director stopped the scene. We went back to the beginning of Joe’s speech. The next attempt was worse than the one before. He grabbed my arm again, and this time he hauled me off in the wrong direction. We went back and tried it again. Joe’s face was dripping with sweat.

Christ, he was more terrified than I was. He
believed
it, he really did. When he dragged me toward the cage this time, my resistance was real. How had Magnus
defined an illusion?
The shadow of the world as it might be, if you only believed.
Now on the brink of following in Golly’s wake, I suddenly believed with a vengeance. I believed so hard that my stomach churned and my eyes watered. I was shaking like a leaf as I sang a few lines begging the Sorcerer not to send me into oblivion.

Joe’s fear-glazed eyes looked half mad. He opened the glass door and ordered me inside. I stared at the gaping void and realized I didn’t want to find out what had happened to Golly Gee. I never, ever wanted to know.

“No!”
I screamed. I jumped away from the cage and threw my golden handcuffs onto the stage. “No, no, no, no!”

“What?”

“What’s she doing?”

“Esther!”

“What’s going on?”

“Oh God!” Joe cried.

The music stopped as chaos erupted onstage. Joe and I both kept screaming. The chorus ran around wildly. The Prince came onstage waving his sword. The director started shouting.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Matilda screamed right into my face.

I turned around and raced straight for the bathroom. I was panting like a long-distance runner by the time I reached it. Matilda was hot on my heel
s. I tried to close the door on her, but the scrawny little witch was a lot stronger than she looked.

Nausea overcame me a moment later and I abandoned the struggle in favor of reaching the toilet in time. She was something, that woman. She never lost a beat, not even as I knelt down and retched pathetically again and again.

“And if there is a repetition of that appalling scene,” Matilda shrieked, “you can forget about working in this show, or even in this town ever again! Do I make myself clear? Don’t think it’s too late for us to rehearse someone else into that part!”

“It
is
too late,” I mumbled, my voice echoing in the cubicle. “If you want to reopen tonight, it’s too late.”

“And another thing!” she cried.

I winced. Those were my mother’s favorite words.

Matilda plowed on. “If you upset Joe like this again—”

“Me?” I blurted. “
He
was the one who—”

“He has a very sensitive, artistic nature, and this ridiculous stunt that Golly pulled has ruined his nerves. He has given
everything
to this show, Esther.”

“Uh-huh.” I flushed the toilet and rose wearily.

“He has sacrificed his own career opportunities as a solo act for the good of the show.”

“Oh, come on.” I threw her an openly skeptical look before lurching toward the sink.

“He’s acquired all-new equipment, studied new techniques, worked with a coach, developed new
standards, trained day and night, refined his abilities. And in return, you completely disrupt a dress rehearsal and throw a hysterical fit at the climax of the play!”

“He was the one who wouldn’t perform, wouldn’t even rehearse after Golly—”

“Don’t mention her name!” Matilda screamed. “I never want to hear her name again!”

I splashed cold water on my face and rinsed out my mouth. Feeling a little more rational, I said, “I’m sorry about what happened today. If I told you why I got so scared…well, it would only make things worse, especially for Joe.”

She glared at me. “I need to know what you intend to do about tonight.”

“I intend to go on,” I said with determination.

“Fine. Can we try that last scene again, then?”

“No.”

“Why the hell not?”

“There’s something I have to do before tonight.”

“What? In God’s name,
what?
”

I looked at my dripping image in the mirror. “I have to talk to the Great Hidalgo.”

It took all afternoon to hunt him up via various booking agencies (all of whom seemed stunned that anyone was interested in the Great Hidalgo). I finally got him on the phone, and he agreed to meet me at Fraunces Tavern, a renovated eighteenth-century establishment down in the Financial Distri
ct. A nostalgic reminder of what Old New York must have been like two centuries and umpteen million people ago, the tavern’s location (and prices) virtually guarantee that you never bump into starving actors there. The Great Hidalgo, it turned out, was only a part-time magician; his real name was Barclay Preston-Cole III, and he worked for his father’s finance company.

“Miss Diamond?” A mousy young man approached my table in the corner.

“Barclay?” I didn’t even consider calling him Mr. Preston-Cole. He looked about sixteen, despite his twelve-hundred-dollar suit and his Rolex watch. He was a little taller than me, with wavy brown hair, fair skin, pink lips and big, brown, cow-like eyes. Kind of cute in a sensitive way. “Have a seat,” I said. I waved to the waiter and asked Barclay, “Are you old enough to drink?”

He flushed. “I’m twenty-two.”

He ordered a white wine spritzer, then insisted on picking up the tab for both our drinks. I let him. Mom had told me that the man always paid, and common sense told me that Wall Street bankers always paid.

“So, Barclay,” I said after he had relaxed a bit, “tell me about that society kid’s birthday party.”

He turned red again. “Oh God. Ohgod, ohgod, ohgod.” He looked around as if afraid we were being spied on, then leaned forward and whispered, “I swear to you, I’ll never do it again. Just don’t tell my father.”

I tried to look as if I was considering his request. “Well, I’ll have to know all the details before I make any promises.”

He swallowed and asked, “Who are you, anyhow? CIA? FBI? National Security Agency? NASA?”

The lad’s imagination was spinning out of control. “I’m with Equity,” I said.

“The actors’ union?” His voice broke.
Everyone’s
afraid of Equity.

“Special Investigative Branch.” Okay, I exaggerated a little. So sue me.

“Oh my God! I’m never going to work again, am I?” Barclay wailed.

“What do you care? You’ve got a good job on Wall Street. Nice office, your own secretary, expense account—”

“How do you know all of this?” he cried.

It had been a safe guess, but I said, “We have our ways.”

“I swear to you, I don’t know what happened! It’s not my fault!”

“Tell me about it,” I urged.

“I was really starting to get somewhere,” he said mournfully. “The act was getting better. All my hard work was beginning to pay off. I just got my first ever real booking!”

“Real booking?”

“You know, from strangers instead of society girls and old school chums.”

“Oh.”

“I’m supposed to perform at the Magic Cabaret on Saturday. It’s my big break! What am I going to do?”

“Can you work alone?”

“Not really. Besides, the disappearing act was my big finish, my best illusion! How can I face an audience without it?”

Seeing he was close to tears, I said, “This means a lot to you.”

He nodded. “I
hate
being a Preston-Cole. I hate banking and finance! All I’ve ever wanted to be is a conjurer. I’ve given everything to my art, and now it’s destroyed me!” He flung himself across the table and grabbed my hand. “What’s going to happen to me?”