asked.
“I put him in the prop box and make him disappear.”
“It’s a gorgeous box,” said Satsy.
“Looks like a tiny Philistine temple,” said Khyber.
“We’ll need to examine it,” said Max. “But please, do continue.”
The rest of her story was quite familiar by now. She somehow knew Samson had disappeared. She felt it when it happened. Opening the tiny temple and searching for him merely confirmed what she already knew.
“Knew,” Delilah repeated. “Then I screamed and became hysterical.”
After a brief period of confusion, she was hauled offstage, and the master of ceremonies told the audience there’d been a little accident during the act, but no serious injuries. The rest of the show continued.
“But I didn’t perform during the second set tonight, of course,” Delilah added, her eyes tearing up again.
After a moment of contemplative silence, Satsy asked, “So what do we do?”
“I’d recommend panicking,” said Whoopsy Daisy, “but we’ve already tried that.”
“Which is why we’ve called you, Dr. Zadok.”
Delilah put her hand over Max’s. “Please, tell me the truth. Do you think Samson is…” Her voice failed her.
“No,” I said firmly. “Definitely not. It’s our theory that the, er, disappearees are just being moved between dimensions, not being hurt.” I had no idea what I was saying, but Delilah looked close to a meltdown now, and I saw no reason to be negative just because we knew nothing.
“Disappearees?” Khyber repeated.
“Do you mean…” said Satsy.
“Are there others?” asked Whoopsy.
I glanced at Max. He looked lost in thought. I glanced around—the club was noisy and no one was paying any attention to us. I gestured for my companions to lean forward so I could lower my voice a bit, then I took a deep breath and explained everything. After their initial exclamations of shock upon learning that Sexy Samson was the fourth victim, they listened to me in taut, stunned silence. When I finished my account of the scant and bizarre facts, everyone remained quiet for a moment.
Then Whoopsy zeroed in on what he found to be the most startling fact of all: “So Golly Gee is really a woman? I would have sworn that was just bad drag!”
“Girlfriend, tragic drag,” said Satsy.
The phone rang, waking me up. Without opening my eyes, I fumbled for it on the nightstand beside my bed. “Hullo,” I mumbled.
“You’re through in this business! Do you hear me? Through! Through! THROUGH! ”
Needless to say, I was by now holding the phone well away from my ear. When gurgling sounds followed these threats, as if my caller was strangling on her own rage, I brought the receiver within speaking distance and said, “Thank you for your concern, Matilda. Yes, I’m still feeling quite weak.”
“I’m at the theater, Esther! I’ve seen the crystal cage!” Gaining volume again, she screamed, “What the hell do you think you’re up to?”
I was so tired that, for a moment, I had no idea what she was talking about. Then I remembered the night’s events, including watching Max turn the expensive prop into a twisted, charred vestige of its former self. I sat up in bed, rubbed a hand over my face and tried to think while my producer kept abusing her vocal cords.
When there was a break in the regularly scheduled programming, I said, not even needing to disguise my voice to sound frail and shaky, “What are you talking about, Matilda?”
It took a little time to convince her of my ignorance; but, hey, I’m an actress, I’m good at this. She may not have abandoned her suspicions, but she did at least abandon her accusations.
In a tone that was only middling hostile now, she informed me the crystal cage was on its way back to Magic Magnus’s shop for repairs. “ Again, Esther.”
“Maybe it would be a good idea to have two of them,” I said.
“We can’t afford two of them!”
“Does Magnus think he can fix it?” But preferably not very
“I put him in the prop box and make him disappear.”
“It’s a gorgeous box,” said Satsy.
“Looks like a tiny Philistine temple,” said Khyber.
“We’ll need to examine it,” said Max. “But please, do continue.”
The rest of her story was quite familiar by now. She somehow knew Samson had disappeared. She felt it when it happened. Opening the tiny temple and searching for him merely confirmed what she already knew.
“Knew,” Delilah repeated. “Then I screamed and became hysterical.”
After a brief period of confusion, she was hauled offstage, and the master of ceremonies told the audience there’d been a little accident during the act, but no serious injuries. The rest of the show continued.
“But I didn’t perform during the second set tonight, of course,” Delilah added, her eyes tearing up again.
After a moment of contemplative silence, Satsy asked, “So what do we do?”
“I’d recommend panicking,” said Whoopsy Daisy, “but we’ve already tried that.”
“Which is why we’ve called you, Dr. Zadok.”
Delilah put her hand over Max’s. “Please, tell me the truth. Do you think Samson is…” Her voice failed her.
“No,” I said firmly. “Definitely not. It’s our theory that the, er, disappearees are just being moved between dimensions, not being hurt.” I had no idea what I was saying, but Delilah looked close to a meltdown now, and I saw no reason to be negative just because we knew nothing.
“Disappearees?” Khyber repeated.
“Do you mean…” said Satsy.
“Are there others?” asked Whoopsy.
I glanced at Max. He looked lost in thought. I glanced around—the club was noisy and no one was paying any attention to us. I gestured for my companions to lean forward so I could lower my voice a bit, then I took a deep breath and explained everything. After their initial exclamations of shock upon learning that Sexy Samson was the fourth victim, they listened to me in taut, stunned silence. When I finished my account of the scant and bizarre facts, everyone remained quiet for a moment.
Then Whoopsy zeroed in on what he found to be the most startling fact of all: “So Golly Gee is really a woman? I would have sworn that was just bad drag!”
“Girlfriend, tragic drag,” said Satsy.
The phone rang, waking me up. Without opening my eyes, I fumbled for it on the nightstand beside my bed. “Hullo,” I mumbled.
“You’re through in this business! Do you hear me? Through! Through! THROUGH! ”
Needless to say, I was by now holding the phone well away from my ear. When gurgling sounds followed these threats, as if my caller was strangling on her own rage, I brought the receiver within speaking distance and said, “Thank you for your concern, Matilda. Yes, I’m still feeling quite weak.”
“I’m at the theater, Esther! I’ve seen the crystal cage!” Gaining volume again, she screamed, “What the hell do you think you’re up to?”
I was so tired that, for a moment, I had no idea what she was talking about. Then I remembered the night’s events, including watching Max turn the expensive prop into a twisted, charred vestige of its former self. I sat up in bed, rubbed a hand over my face and tried to think while my producer kept abusing her vocal cords.
When there was a break in the regularly scheduled programming, I said, not even needing to disguise my voice to sound frail and shaky, “What are you talking about, Matilda?”
It took a little time to convince her of my ignorance; but, hey, I’m an actress, I’m good at this. She may not have abandoned her suspicions, but she did at least abandon her accusations.
In a tone that was only middling hostile now, she informed me the crystal cage was on its way back to Magic Magnus’s shop for repairs. “ Again, Esther.”
“Maybe it would be a good idea to have two of them,” I said.
“We can’t afford two of them!”
“Does Magnus think he can fix it?” But preferably not very
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