Death Casts a Spell, Chapter 17

I had given some thought to the best place for Eleanor and Jeannette to meet. Somewhere private seemed best, since the meeting was likely to be emotional. That suggested my home, or perhaps Mr. Gallo’s office. But every time I imagined entertaining Eleanor in either place, I remembered Mrs. Jacoby’s threats toward Koko. I was already in this case far deeper than she would have found acceptable. If she found out, what would the consequences be?

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Death Casts a Spell

Ultimately, there was no good answer to the problem. Jeannette and Eleanor had to see one another, and doing it privately would be less likely to attract notice than a public meeting. But I would give Eleanor no notice, the better to prevent any chance of her accidentally spilling the beans. I dropped by the twins’ apartment to ask Jeannette to swing by my house on Thursday afternoon—and once she’d agreed, I asked Koko to invite Eleanor home after school that same day.

There was a knock on the door at twenty minutes before three. I opened it, and there stood Jeannette. She was still wearing her nice wool coat with the bright red buttons, and with her fair hair pulled back into a smooth chignon, she looked every inch the young society lady. Except for her expression; that was tense and drawn.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Pearl isn’t feeling well.” She met my eyes only briefly. “She started having trouble breathing late last night. Freddie won’t leave her side. We’re not sure—”

She didn’t finish the sentence. She didn’t have to. Freddie and Jeannette weren’t sure if Pearl would make it much longer. I felt a stab of helpless anger at the desperate unfairness of the whole situation. Pearl had been born into a family that should have been able to give her every advantage, every possible chance at a long and healthy life. But that family hadn’t wanted her. Pearl might rally; she might make it through this hard spell. Even so, it felt as though the span of her life had been cut short—neatly, coolly, ruthlessly—the morning Mr. Jacoby showed up at Freddie’s mother’s door.

“I’m so sorry, Jeannette.” I held out my arms to her.

She submitted to the hug, but she was too uneasy to embrace me for more than a moment. She pulled away. “Is Eleanor here yet?”

I shook my head. “I asked you to come early,” I said. “I want to talk.” I led her into the library, the cozy oak-paneled room in which Koko’s late father had stored his collection of books. It was Koko’s favorite room in the house, and it had quickly become mine as well. With its army of leather-bound volumes standing sentry against the world, it felt as though nothing very much could intrude on you here. And that made it seem like the perfect place to have a heart-to-heart with Jeannette.

I put her on the sofa and settled myself in Uncle Owen’s old, bottle-green leather armchair. “Jeannette,” I leaned forward and locked eyes with her. “I want you and Freddie to break with Vetrovsky.” I had been mulling the situation all night, and I couldn’t really see any reason for the twins to continue working with the magician.

“He’s been horrible to you,” I said. “And what he’s doing to Arthur Burrage is even worse. Also—” I shuddered a bit at the melancholy of the situation, but soldiered on. “If Pearl isn’t having the operation, you no longer have an urgent need for cash. What you need—” I leaned forward and put my hand on her knee. “Is time, to care for Pearl. You can bring her here, if you like. I can help you and Freddie find decent jobs. But you shouldn’t be associating with Vetrovsky any longer. It’s not safe, and it’s also not right.”

“That’s okay,” Jeannette said. “Vetrovsky told us last night, he’s done with Arthur.”

“He—what?” I had more arguments to marshal to my case, but they died in my throat. “Since when?”

“Since he realized Arthur’s out of money,” Jeannette said. “He’s spent everything he could already. Now Vetrovsky wants to cut him loose.”

I looked at Jeannette and didn’t know what to say. I was a little appalled at the cool way in which she had described the financial ruin of a man. But also, I didn’t quite believe it. “Arthur has rich clients,” I said. “Vetrovsky’s been trying to get him to embezzle from them.”

Jeannette frowned for a moment, then shrugged. “I don’t know anything about that,” she said. “I just know he said he’s done with Arthur.”

I thought back to the conversation I’d had with Mr. Gallo. “And how does he intend to do that?” I asked. Each time I’d met Arthur, his fixation on Vetrovsky’s mystical theatrics had seemed absolute. Getting him to go quietly away, hat in hand, would be a job that must push even Vetrovsky’s powers of persuasion past their limits.

Jeannette’s eyes slid away from mine. “It’s—well, it’s complicated,” she said.

I shook my head. “I’m done with all this silly secrecy, Jeannette,” I said. “I’ll give you any help I can. But I want to know the whole story. Now.”

She bit her lower lip. “It’s something he’s done before,” she said. “Freddie told me about it. When he’s ready to get rid of a mark, and he doesn’t want them bothering him anymore, he kind of—scares them.”

“How?” I demanded.

“He makes them think they—killed someone. He stages one more seance. And then, during it, he has the mark prepare a cup of wine for Freddie. With herbs, spices, all sorts of magical-sounding nonsense. The wine—” Jeannette cast her eyes up to the ceiling, and I saw that she was ashamed of her upcoming role in this little drama. “The wine has the paralytic in it. It makes Freddie freeze up, collapse. Then Vetrovsky tells the mark he must have mixed it wrong. He killed Vetrovsky’s assistant.”

I was stunned at this recitation. It would certainly neatly solve the problem Mr. Gallo had outlined regarding marks who have overstayed their welcome. The hapless victim, if he even half-believed the story, would take himself off, never to be seen again. He wouldn’t return to ask for supernatural help, nor to bring the police to Vetrovsky’s door. He would be out of Vetrovsky’s life for good.

“And Freddie’s done this before?” I asked.

Jeannette nodded. “Twice. She said it’s terrible, but once it’s over—” she shrugged. “It’s over.”

I frowned at Jeannette. “And just when is she staging this play for Arthur?”

Jeannette looked down. “Tonight,” she said. “And actually, it’ll be me.”

I frowned at that. “Because Freddie won’t leave Pearl?” I guessed.

“Yes. Well, no. Actually, Vetrovsky wanted me to do it.”

“Why?”

She shook her head. “He said he wanted me to start learning more of the act,” Jeannette said. “But he doesn’t know we’re done with him. You’re exactly right. We need to spend our time with Pearl, and we don’t have to help him swindle people anymore. I’m doing this last job, tonight. Then I’m done.”

I shook my head. “Don’t go tonight,” I said. “Tomorrow, I’ll go down to Arthur’s office and explain the whole thing to him. I’ll tell him how it was all done—the wires, the sounds. If he decides to go after Vetrovsky legally, well, that’s what the man deserves.”

Jeannette bit her lip again. Then she nodded. “Okay,” she said.

I heard the front door open. That would be Koko and Eleanor. I went to go intercept them, motioning to Jeannette to stay where she was.

I’d been a little uneasy about asking Koko to bring Eleanor home—and not just because I wanted to keep our activities secret from Mrs. Jacoby. The last time I’d seen the two girls together, they hadn’t been getting along. And I wondered what they had talked about on the long walk back from St. Seb’s—whether, indeed, they had been able to talk to each other civilly at all.

I came into the front hall to find the girls shucking their coats. Both were smiling.

“And then Maggie asked if I was going to sit with you every day,” Eleanor said. “And I told her I was.”

Koko smiled shyly. “She must have been angry.”

“So angry!” Eleanor’s grin was triumphant. “But so what?”

I stared at them. “You girls made up?” I said at last.

Koko looked up at me, eager to tell the tale. “Eleanor sat with me at lunch today,” she said. “And then after a while, Dottie and Lois came over too.”

“And Annie,” Eleanor put in. “But she does whatever Lois tells her.”

“And Grace,” added Koko. “And then we all played jacks at recess.”

A small smile curved my lips. This was, perhaps, the most meaningful thing Eleanor could have done for Koko—to use her own social standing to bolster Koko’s. And I knew it had to have come at a cost. “Not Maggie, though,” I said.

“Nope,” Koko said happily. “Not Maggie.”

Eleanor shrugged. “She can sit with us if she wants,” she said. “It’s really up to her.”

The girls exchanged a delighted giggle, and I found myself beaming in admiration. I was so proud of Koko, for having helped Eleanor, even when it had seemed like there was nothing to gain. And I was proud of Eleanor, too, for having finally recognized Koko’s generosity, and responded in kind.

I put my hand on Eleanor’s shoulder. “You can stay and play as long as you like today,” I said. “But first, there’s someone who’s waiting for you.”

I brought Eleanor into the library. She stared for a moment, then flew to her sister. Jeannette gathered her up in her arms and the two held each other for several moments.

Then Eleanor pulled back. “Where have you been?” she demanded.

“I’ve been safe,” Jeannette told her. “I should have told you where I was. Ellie, I’m so sorry.”

Eleanor’s eyes filled with tears. She rubbed them away, glaring at her sister. “I had no idea where you were. It’s been awful.” Her voice broke on this last word. “I’ve been all alone.” She tried to keep scowling at Jeannette, but her lower lip began to tremble. Finally she dissolved into sobs and buried her head in her sister’s chest.

Jeannette looked like she wanted to sink into the floor, and I couldn’t say she didn’t have it coming. But she stroked her sister’s hair and repeated her words of apology. “I promise, I won’t leave you alone again,” she said. “No matter where I go, or what I do, I’ll always be your sister.”

They sat together for a long time, talking quietly, before Jeannette said she had to go. I walked her to the door.

“So we’re agreed,” I said. “You won’t go back to Vetrovsky’s tonight.”

She looked uncertain. “He won’t like it,” she said.

“Then come here. Or, if Pearl isn’t well enough to move, send for Mr. Gallo.” I put my arm on her shoulder. “But I want you to promise me, Jeannette. You have to be done with this.”

Jeannette hesitated, then nodded. “All right,” she said. “I won’t go. I promise.” She turned and walked off down the street. I watched her. For all her similarities with Freddie, now that I knew them, it was easy to distinguish the twins from one another. Even from the back, Jeannette had a quiet stateliness to her walk—a change from Freddie’s attitude of brash confidence. Despite their similarities, each girl was exactly herself.

And each self was a province of its own, a tiny universe of passions, foibles, and fears that uniquely placed its stamp upon the world. No two people could truly stand in for each other, no matter how much they might have in common.

My breath caught in my throat. This—the one-of-a-kind wonder of every human soul—was exactly what Vetrovsky’s illusions had been working to conceal. Arthur’s one dear daughter was dead, a fact so implacable that Vetrovsky’s stagecraft hadn’t been enough to suppress it. For that, Arthur’s desire, too, had been necessary. His willing self-deception had been the only thing that allowed him to pretend, just for a little while, that Alice was in his arms.

But that self-deception was wavering. And it was easy to understand why. Arthur was torn between the mystical and the rational, between his longings and the cold, hard facts. If Vetrovsky had given up on tipping him over into real faith in the supernatural, it made sense for him to cut him loose.

But a sliver of doubt licked through me. What if he hadn’t given up? In that case, Vetrovsky would be looking for something to close the deal—to move Arthur from reluctant fascination to complete and unquestioning conviction. In order to do that, Vetrovsky would have to offer him something more than stagecraft and spectacle. It would have to be—I shuddered—something real.

“Jeannette!” I called. She had disappeared into the mottled shadows cast by the trees up ahead. I ran out into the street and halfway down the block calling after her, but with no luck. She was gone.

I ran back to the house and found Koko and Eleanor sitting on the floor of the library, chatting amiably about Koko’s collection of novels. Eleanor was smiling, and—wonder of wonders—Koko had been so casual as to kick off her shoes.

“I have to go out,” I snapped at them. “Eleanor, it would be best if you went home.”

Both girls looked up with worried expressions. “Is there something wrong?” Koko asked.

“Is Jeannette okay?” said Eleanor.

“Everything’s fine,” I said. “Koko, I’ll be home before dinner.” I put on a calm smile. It was, as it turned out, less convincing than I’d intended.