Craig Davidson - Rust and Bone - Stories

“This is the magician …?” Jess managed.

“Who, Oogie?” Dr. Iyer chuckled. “Certainly not.”

“Well, he’s been practicing tricks all day,” said Lee. “I figured …”

Dr. Iyer shook his head. “The officer’s looking for the man Oogie’s been imitating lately.”

“I’ve been off the past week,” Lee said defensively.

“I’m the man you’re after,” the scrawny man piped up in a voice shrill as a piccolo. “I got magic like you never seen!”

“Cool your jets,” Lee warned.

Oogie grasped Jess’s hand and kissed it grandly. “Yes, milady, your eyes do not deceive you. It is I, Oogie Dellanthorpe.” His tone suggested the name passed over people’s lips with great frequency. “Or, as my legions of fans know me, the Mysterious Oogie.”

“Delusional, but quite harmless,” said Dr. Iyer. “A fascinating case.”

“I’ve been hiding out with my able-bodied assistant, Rhonda McMurphy.” Oogie nodded to his female companion. “The pressures of fame, you know. But don’t worry, I’ll soon be thrilling audiences again. I can leave anytime I want.”

“That’s not at all true,” Dr. Iyer whispered to Jess.

Oogie’s eyes fell upon Herbert. “Is it—could it be? ”

Herbert performed a polite bow. “Guilty as charged.”

“Dr. Iyer, about the other magician …?”

“Of course, officer. I have his address on file.”

Dr. Iyer ushered Jess into his office and closed the door, leaving Herbert to fend off Oogie alone. The office was small and cluttered, shelves stacked with outdated medical texts. In the corner, a little heater popped and cracked as its parts grew warmer and expanded.

“An interesting man,” Dr. Iyer said, speaking of her father. “Comes in every year around Halloween. Mr. Dellanthorpe was so enthralled he’s taken on a whole new persona.”

Dr. Iyer handed over a slip of paper with an address in Thessalon, a town two hours east. “I don’t even know the fellow’s name. He insists on using his stage name—the Inimitable Cartouche.”

By the time they exited the office, Oogie’s arm was draped chummily over Herbert’s shoulder. “You’re a fine fellow,” he said. “I like the cut of your jib.”

Jess pulled at her brother, making for the exit. “Well, thanks for everything.”

“No!” Oogie was reluctant to relinquish Herbert’s neck. “I’m … I’m putting on a magic show. Yes, it’s true: the Mysterious Oogie will perform tonight.”

“You’d really be helping us,” Dr. Iyer whispered. “Otherwise he’ll grouch all night.”

They agreed to stay. Lee guided Jess and Herbert to a sofa. Their presence prompted a great deal of curiosity; patients wandered out of their rooms, gravitating to the dayroom.

Oogie reappeared with a turquoise bedsheet pinned to the shoulders of his housecoat and a bristol-board top hat on his head at a breezy angle. Rhonda wore a sequined top and hoop skirt.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Oogie said. “Tonight I will dazzle you with illusions guaranteed to leave you questioning your sanity!”

“Ho ho ho, now, now, Mr. Dellanthorpe,” Dr. Iyer said in a singsong voice. “Let us choose our words a little …” he brought his index finger and thumb together, as though squeezing the juice from an invisible grape, “… more prudently, shall we?”

“Use what sense the good Lord gave you,” said Lee, “… or I’ll brain you.”

“We do not brain our patients, officer,” Dr. Iyer told Jess with a nervous smile. “We have a strict No Braining policy, in fact.”

Oogie shuffled a deck of playing cards. He strode over to a shrunken-apple doll of a woman, fanned the deck.

“Now, to remove any taint of duplicity—milady, have we ever met before?”

“I’m Marla,” the old woman croaked. “Your room’s next door to mine. You keep me up all night with grunts of self-gratification.”

“What I mean is, are we in cahoots?”

“I wouldn’t be in cahoots with you for all the silks in Siam.”

“Wonderful. Please select a card.”

Marla reached for a card. Oogie pulled the deck away and angled it differently. Marla reached again. Oogie snatched the cards away, stuffed half into his pocket and offered the remaining deck. Marla reached … Oogie pulled away. Rhonda performed a series of pirouettes.

“My formidable mental powers are useless!” Oogie was confused and dismayed. “This lady’s resistance is otherworldly. Tell me, aged crone, is there a metal plate in your skull?”

Marla had nodded off.

Herbert had been watching with mounting agitation. “Mind if I have a go?”

“Yes, give it a whirl,” Dr. Iyer said.

Oogie took a seat beside Jess, unruffled despite his failure. “I’m learning how to clog dance,” he told her. “Ordered special shoes from Scandinavia.”

Herbert fanned Oogie’s cards and knelt beside Marla, who snuffled into foggy wakefulness. Herbert asked her to take a card and show it to everyone but him. After Marla had done so, Herbert shuffled the remaining cards and directed Marla to slot her card back into the deck.

“When I tap the deck, your card rises to the top.” A light tap. “Remove the card, please.”

Marla’s face lit up. “The four of clubs—will you look at that!”

“Beginner’s luck,” Oogie huffed.

For the next half-hour Herbert ran through a series of card illusions: the Haunted Deck, Cutting the Ace, the Teleporting Card, the French Drop. Those who’d hung back earlier drew near. Everyone leaned forward, heads tilted slightly upward, bodies inclined towards Herbert like iron filings under a faint yet persistent magnetic pull. Following each trick the room burst with astonished laughter or low oooohs, followed by the disbelieving question: “How did he do that?” Jess watched her brother’s face change. Something peeled away from it, a layer so deeply ingrained she hadn’t noticed it until it was gone. The features relaxed, creases smoothing out, softening. She saw a trace of the boy she remembered.

“I must seclude myself in preparation for my final feat,” he said. “I ask the lights be dimmed. Everyone must remain completely silent. Any disturbance will ruin my concentration.”

“Herbert, are you sure—?”

“Hush, doubting sister.”

Herbert entered a room at the end of the ward. Following his departure the dayroom filled with excited whispers, like a cage full of birds. Lee tiptoed over to the dimmer knob and brought the light level down to a mellow dusk.

After a few minutes Herbert cried, “Behold!” and everyone craned to see the fabulous magician striding down the hallway …

… stark naked.

Herbert believed the only sure way to render oneself invisible required the removal of one’s clothes. Though he could still see his body—the pasty skin and thatch of curly black chest hair, the teacup-shaped birthmark on his hip—Herbert was utterly certain nobody else could.

“I am in your very midst,” he called out triumphantly, “and yet you cannot see me—ho ho ho! ”

A palpable surge of discomfort passed through the group. Most people looked away, shocked and deeply embarrassed. This only solidified Herbert’s conviction.

“Is this normal behavior?” Dr. Iyer asked Jess.

Herbert strutted through the group. He flipped a lock of Rhonda’s hair. “What’s that—the wind? No, madam, it was I!”

“Fellow’s equipped like a fox,” Marla said to no one in particular.

Herbert stopped in front of a black man wearing a porkpie hat. “Tell me, friend,” he asked. “As I stand before you, what do you see?”

“I see a damn fool! ”

“Herbert,” Jess said gently. “We can see you.”