The Third Movement Page 11

  Mick pressed his lips together. “But something’s wrong. I can tell. Maybe not with Vernon… with your friends?” Theo said nothing but hung his head.

  “Close friendships can be tricky to maintain, much like an antique musical instrument. You can’t play too hard. And there is always the risk of things beginning to corrode.”

  Theo felt something clench inside his chest. But then he started to talk. Slowly. About the ventriloquist at the resort and, without being specific, how the Misfits were worried that the man had a wicked card up his sleeve. He talked about Ridley and how difficult she could be. Finally, almost reluctantly, he mentioned the odd mimicry he and his friends had heard around the town—the ventriloquist throwing his voice and trying to make the Misfits fight. Theo kept the radio transmitters to himself, though, worried about what Ridley would say if he revealed that piece of information.

  “I find it hard to believe that anyone could make a close group of friends fight,” said Mick. “The tension must have been there in the first place.” He drummed his fingers on the countertop. “Do you think maybe you’re jealous of one another?”

  “Jealous?” Theo echoed. “I never thought we were. Not until this summer. Not until the talent show.”

  “Maybe it would be better if you stopped trying to force the talent show. Take a break from one another for a while. Time apart can mend deep wounds.”

  “Maybe,” said Theo. He thought of his siblings and how far they all lived from one another. Coming together over the past week had felt good, but it had taken time and effort to get there. “I will consider it.”

  “I hope you do,” said Mick. “And music is always a good distraction.”

  “That too,” Theo answered. “My brothers and sisters and I have started riffing in our backyard. It has been fun.”

  “Perfect!” Mick stood. “Tell you what. I have something for you.” He waved for Theo to follow him into the back room again. Pointing at the shelf over the workbench, he said, “Pick one.”

  Theo’s stomach dropped. “You want to give me a metronome?”

  “They’re not doing any good sitting back here! Pick one and use it when you and your siblings have your next jam session. My gift to you. For being so kind to Emily.”

  Theo scanned the shelf. The last metronome on the right caught his eye. It had a heart-shaped weight. Emily’s face popped into his head as he told Mick, “That one is beautiful.”

  A couple of days later, Theo woke to the sound of the phone ringing. His mother knocked on his door and then opened it a crack. “Is it for me?” he asked, worried.

  “It’s someone named…” She glanced down at a scrap of paper. “Ollinissy?” She sounded confused. “They insisted I wake you. Is everything okay?”

  Theo sighed, putting on his slippers. “I shall let you know momentarily.”

  Padding down to the phone in the upstairs hallway, he picked up the receiver and asked, “Olly? Izzy? What’s wrong?”

  The twins spoke over each other. But Theo got the gist of what they were saying. There was an emergency at the resort. He needed to come as soon as possible.

  By the time Theo arrived at the Goldens’ suite, the other Misfits were already there. Carter and Leila had hitched a ride with the Other Mr. Vernon. And surprisingly, Ridley had spent the night with the twins.

  “Thank goodness you’re here,” Ridley said as he came into the living room. The furniture was all in place—there would be no morning dance practice for the Golden crew today. “We can finally get started.” She turned to the others, perched all around the room. “I motion that this meeting of the Magic Misfits begin immediately.”

  “Seconded,” said Leila.

  “Thirded,” Olly and Izzy answered at the same time. “Jinx!” they both cried out. “Double-jinx!” they both yelled. “Triple—”

  “Why are we here?” Theo interrupted. “Olly, Izzy, I apologize. But did someone get hurt?”

  “Not yet,” Ridley answered. “Thank goodness.” She reached around to the back of her chair and removed a large rolled piece of paper. Theo recognized the poster for Wendel Whispers’s ventriloquism show. “But someone will be if we don’t do something.”

  Theo, Carter, and Leila leaned forward. Olly and Izzy already seemed to know what this was all about. They flanked Ridley’s chair in support.

  Ridley handed the poster to the twins, who held it up for everyone to see. Ridley pointed at the words on the bottom of the poster. “I couldn’t stop thinking about what we were saying the other day. The anagrams.”

  Chills coursed across Theo’s skin. He had enjoyed the few days away from Wendel Whispers and Kalagan. The thought of the mystery zooming front and center again made him queasy.

  Leila read it aloud: “Bagful’s Metric Mimics Productions?”

  Ridley took out her notebook and opened it. Theo could see that the pages were filled with her handwriting. “I woke up this morning with those words racing through my head. They’re almost nonsensical, but not quite. I tested out the letters, rearranging them again and again. And look what I found.”

  She rested her finger against the page.

  The final line in the notebook read Magic Misfits crumble.

  Theo stood straight, bringing his hands to his mouth. He looked to Ridley, almost expecting her to be grinning with satisfaction, since she’d been right about the ventriloquist. But she looked just as frightened as the rest of them.

  “Cripes,” Carter whispered.

  “There’s no way this is a coincidence,” said Leila, shaking her head.

  “We need to confront him,” Ridley asserted. “Today.”

  “We already know where his room is,” said Izzy. “Let’s go now.”

  “Too dangerous,” said Carter.

  “We should tell Mr. and Mrs. Golden.” Theo glanced through the door to the kitchen, but all was quiet.

  “Mom and Dad left earlier to go teach classes to the guests,” Olly explained.

  “Then we wait until they come back,” said Theo. “I do not think we should leave this room until they do.”

  “What about Dean?” Izzy asked. “Maybe he can help us again.”

  Ridley rolled her eyes. “By doing what? Carrying our luggage?”

  “My poppa is downstairs in the kitchen,” Leila suggested.

  “And what will we tell him?” asked Ridley.

  Theo glanced at the poster again. Darling Daniel’s big glass eyes looked out at him, seeming to stare into his mind.

  “Everything,” Theo answered. “We tell him everything.”

  In the parlor just off the dining room, the group gathered at one of the couches hidden in a nook of densely potted foliage. They kept their voices down as they explained their worries to Leila’s poppa. When they finished, he said, “This is bad. This is really, really bad.”

  Theo grit his teeth. He had been expecting the Other Mr. Vernon to say something soothing like There must be another explanation or I will take care of everything. No worrying allowed! Instead, the man just sat there, biting his lip.

  “I need to talk to Dante,” he whispered to himself.

  “Did Mr. Vernon ever check in with you?” Theo asked.

  Carter and Leila shook their heads.

  “But Poppa said that it was all right,” Leila added. “That Dad can handle whatever it is he’s dealing with.”

  “And he can,” the Other Mr. Vernon asserted, although he still looked worried. “But we need to talk to this Whispers guy today. Right now if possible.”

  “We cannot go up to his room,” Theo pleaded. “We need to talk to him in public. He cannot do anything bad to us in front of others.” Make us crumble, he thought.

  “Spot on, Theo,” said the Other Mr. Vernon. “We get him to come to us.”

  “How?” asked Olly.

  “And where?” asked Izzy.

  “And when?”

  “And who?”

  “This is serious,” Ridley barked. The twins covered their mouth
s and stepped back as if out of a spotlight.

  The Other Mr. Vernon nervously bit at the inside of his cheek. “The front desk has a phone. And the lobby is full of people. Getting him down here will be as easy as baking a cake.” He rushed into the kitchen and returned moments later holding a thick rolling pin coated in a layer of flour.

  “Baking a cake is easy?” asked Olly.

  “It’s all in the wrists.” The Other Mr. Vernon then brandished the rolling pin toward the lobby. “Now—let’s get rolling!”

  SEVENTEEN

  The taxidermy bear looked down blankly at the friends from the top of the lobby stairs. Today it was dressed in a grass skirt and a coconut top. It almost made Theo smile. But worry hung from his heart, and his mind went back to the creepy poster. Why would someone want to target the Magic Misfits? A group of kids who were merely trying to have fun, make magic, and create smiles?

  “Carter and I wrote that anonymous letter to the Gazette,” Leila whispered. “Telling them about the transmitters in the dolls. We dropped it in the mailbox this morning.”

  Ridley nodded. “That was the right move.”

  “I’m scared,” said Olly. “What if the ventriloquist tries to hurt us?”

  “I’m hungry,” said Izzy. “What if the kitchen runs out of lemon squares before we get any?”

  Theo was glad for the twins’ banter. It was a good distraction. The Misfits kept their eyes on the elevator doors by the front desk, waiting for Mr. Whispers to appear.

  A few minutes later, a voice boomed from behind them: “I know you!”

  Turning, Theo found Wendel Whispers standing over them. He was cradling the real Darling Daniel dummy like a baby. Both were looking right at the Misfits.

  Wendel had not taken the elevator to the lobby! Mr. Vernon’s advice flashed through Theo’s mind: Magicians must be prepared for all sorts of outcomes. They had missed this one for sure.

  Darling Daniel’s head swiveled between the Misfits, as if taking them in. “What’s wrong?” he screeched. “Cat got yer tongue?”

  “You two rode in the hot air balloon with me yesterday,” said Wendel. He looked at Theo and Leila, whose faces flushed. Theo pressed himself backward into the love seat, expecting the man or the dummy to reach out and throttle him. Instead, Wendel smiled. “Wasn’t that fun?”

  “It was very pretty up there,” Leila answered, her voice a squeak.

  “I’m thinking of going again today,” said the ventriloquist.

  Darling Daniel added, “It’s my turn to ride in the sky.”

  Several guests had noticed the ventriloquist, and a small audience was forming. Some of the guests were even holding Darling Daniel replicas.

  “I’m sorry I left you home yesterday,” Wendel told the dummy. “But you insisted you weren’t feeling well.”

  “Only because I didn’t want to eat that slop you were having for breakfast!”

  “Tell a lie, deal with the consequences,” Wendel stage-whispered to the dummy. Then he glanced at the Misfits and smiled again.

  This time, Theo was fairly sure the smile was not meant to be nice. He looked to the front desk, where the Other Mr. Vernon was caught up in conversation with a receptionist. Ridley moved suddenly toward the ventriloquist.

  “You can quit your charade, Mr. Whispers,” she said, her tone clipped.

  Wendel flinched. “Excuse me?” he said, dropping all pretense of performing for the people passing through the lobby. He tried to step around Ridley, but she positioned her chair to block him. She almost ran over his toes. “Whoa,” Wendel said. “A little close, don’t you think?”

  “We know who you work for,” Ridley continued. “And we know what you two are up to.”

  “Ridley,” Leila whispered urgently.

  But Ridley went on. “So, you can just quit it now. We’re not going to leave you alone until you pack your bags and get the heck out of Mineral Wells.”

  Wendel straightened his spine, rising to his full height, his pale face turning the color of the red roses in the large vase by the front door. “And just who do you think you’re talking to, young lady?”

  Ridley inhaled sharply as if she was about to let him have it.

  “Ridley, wait!” Theo said. “The Other Mr. Vernon will help.” He ran toward the desk as the confrontation continued loudly behind him. “Wendel Whispers is here!” he shouted, skidding to a stop.

  The Other Mr. Vernon whirled around, then practically galloped across the room, flour puffing out behind him like a steam engine. Theo raced after him.

  Olly and Izzy were now holding the poster open, and Ridley had her notebook out and was showing her anagram work to the ventriloquist. His brow was scrunched, and his mouth was a slack little O.

  “I had nothing to do with that,” he said. “Someone here at the hotel must have put this poster together using a very old picture of me and my dummy.”

  “Hello, Mr. Whispers?” the Other Mr. Vernon interjected. “I’m the chef here at the resort. I called you down to the lobby. My daughter and her friends have experienced some difficulties this summer, and we hoped you could answer a few questions.”

  Wendel rolled his eyes. “I can assure you, sir, that I have nothing whatsoever to do with any secret messages this young lady has discovered in my show’s promotional materials. Magic Misfits crumble? I don’t even know what a Magic Misfit is!”

  “We’re the Magic Misfits,” said Carter, glancing at his friends. “We do magic.” He snapped his fingers and a deck of cards appeared in his other hand. He fanned them out, revealing the suits and courts. Leila placed her hand on his shoulder, and he stood straighter. “And we’re misfits.” He brought the cards back into a pile. “And we don’t believe a word that you’re saying.” Spreading the cards again, he revealed them all to be blank.

  “I don’t know what to tell you,” said Wendel, unimpressed. “Where’s the manager? Maybe he can settle all this.”

  “There’s no need to involve Mr. Arnold,” the Other Mr. Vernon answered. “Like I said, we just hoped to ask you some questions.” He glared at the kids. “That is, if everyone would just calm down for a moment. Shall we sit?” He then shooed away what was left of the curious crowd that had gathered.

  Wendel Whispers rolled his eyes again, set down Darling Daniel, then sat beside him on a love seat. Sighing, he said, “Someone please tell me what this is all about?”

  Leila began. “Earlier this summer, my friends and I stopped a man named B. B. Bosso from stealing a giant diamond during a magic show here at the resort.” Theo expected to see some glimmer of recognition in Wendel’s eyes, but he only stared angrily at the Misfits. “Bosso was trying to pin the theft on my other dad, who owns the magic shop in town. The two of them knew each other back when they were kids. They were in a magic club just like ours. Theirs was called the Emerald Ring.”

  “But you know all this already,” said Ridley.

  “Do not deign to tell me what I know,” Wendel said indignantly.

  “A few weeks ago, another member of the Emerald Ring came to town,” Leila continued. “Sandra Santos, also known as the psychic Madame Esmeralda. She performed here at the Grand Oak Resort, then she and her cohorts broke into my dad’s magic shop and tried to steal an important notebook.”

  “I’m beginning to see a pattern here,” said Wendel, though he looked more bored than intrigued. “I assure you, however, that I have nothing to do with this magic shop you keep talking about. Nor with any old magic club. I don’t even do magic. I’m a ventriloquist!”

  “That’s the thing,” said Carter. “We know you were part of the Emerald Ring. We overheard you say that you’ve been to Mineral Wells before, a long time ago. We have a picture of you with the club from way back when.” He flipped open his satchel and pulled out the antique framed photo. “You even have the same doll!”

  “Caught red-handed,” Ridley growled.

  “I got Daniel out of a catalog decades ago,” Wendel explained, “as did h
undreds of aspiring ventriloquists all around the world. The model is quite common. The boy in your picture must have ordered his from the same company.”

  “But the boy looks just like you!” Theo said in disbelief.

  “And any good magician should know that appearances are illusions.” Wendel sniffed. “How many people in this country do you think have similar haircuts and comparable eyewear to the boy in this photograph? Thousands?”

  “But you’re the one who showed up here,” said Ridley. “In Mineral Wells. With the same dummy. What are the chances?”

  Wendel sighed. “They are low, I will admit. You do realize, however, that I was invited to come here. If you’re all so suspicious of me, maybe you should look into who books the talent at this resort.”

  The Other Mr. Vernon blinked. “That’s a good point.”

  “Besides,” Wendel went on, “I can prove to you that I am not the boy in that photo.” He took off his glasses and leaned toward the Misfits. “Look into my eyes.”

  “Don’t do it!” shouted Olly, leaping in between the ventriloquist and the rest of the group.

  Wendel nearly fell off the love seat. “I’m not a hypnotist!” he cried out. “I am merely asking that you notice my eye color.”

  “Blue,” said Ridley. “So what?”

  “Bright blue, to be exact.” Wendel gestured to the photo of the Emerald Ring. “The boy in your picture has brown eyes.”

  The Misfits went silent. “He’s right,” said Leila. “This boy’s eyes are dark.”

  “That can’t be,” said Ridley. “We know this is you!”

  “Do you have any other proof?” asked Wendel as he stood. The group was silent. The Other Mr. Vernon looked mortified.

  “The creepy dolls that you made appear all around the town,” Ridley barged on. “The dolls that literally everyone is carrying.” She reached into the pouch behind her chair and pulled out a Daniel doll.

  “Those were a hotel promotion I had nothing to do with,” said Wendel. “Again. Honestly, I’ve never met a group of kids with such wild imaginations.”