Chapter-ette Three: An Unlikely Surprise
I took a moment to take in the carnival poster rolled out on my desk. It was from show a month ago on Staten Island that featured ‘Dr Stefano von Cadwell – Mentalist & Spiritual Philosopher.’
“It’s just a drawing,” Miss Marple said, “but I can attest that it captures his likeness very well.”
“So you want me to find the missing magician?” I asked with a playful smirk that went unnoticed.
“He’s not a magician, just someone who makes his living performing different acts at carnivals and traveling shows.”
“How’d your cousin meet this . . . person?”
“Ironically enough, she was an assistant to a magician who introduced them.”
“A tale as old as time,” I sighed and rolled up the poster as best I could. I didn’t relish the idea of showing that around town, looking for leads. But a case is a case, as long as it pays.
“Thank you, Miss Marple. If you let me know where you’re staying in town, I can call in on your when I have anything to report.”
“Oh, you misunderstand, Mr. Spade,” she said standing up. “I’m coming with you.”
“That’s not how I . . .”
“I’ll pay you 125% your going rate, as marked in your advertisements,” she said pulling a newspaper clipping out of her seemingly bottomless, but surprisingly well-organised, bag.
“I50%, plus expenses,” I countered and held out my hand.
“I assumed expenses were extra,” she said and shook my hand, “and I would’ve gone as high as 175%.”
I could’ve driven us to the train station, but I hailed a taxi. This gave me a chance to talk to a member of one of the chattiest professions in the city. If you want someone to listen to your problems, talk to a bartender. If you want someone to talk your ear off with all the problems of the world, take a cab across town during rush hour. This ride didn’t take that long, but it did allow me time to ascertain which cabbies were likely to have been working the day Dr. Cadwell allegedly arrived in San Francisco.
By the time we got to the train station, we’d narrowed our potential interviews to less than a dozen. Miss Marple held the poster and I did the talking. It was an arrangement that got results quickly. We eventually found the cabbie who picked Cadwell up. I paid him to take us to the flophouse he dropped off the missing Lothario at. Miss Marple saved me bribing the world-weary woman behind the front desk by telling her about her jilted cousin. The old broad let us into Cadwell’s room. It looked like he’d unpacked in a hurry. Colourful clothes were covering every service and most of the floor, but we found a newspaper opened to the want ads. The only listing circled was for a circus.
“Seems just his sort of thing,” I said, surprisingly mad that this case looked like it would be over before the sun went down. Miss Marple just smiled and clapped her lace-gloved hands, causing her large purse to make an odd clanking sound.
The address on the circus listing took us to the offices of a third-rate talent agency in a rough part of town. This delighted Miss Marple to no end. Her smile was almost contagious.
Almost.
I was just telling the cabbie to wait, as I didn’t think we’d be very long, when a brightly dressed large man with an impressive beard stepped out of the agency across the street.
Before I could stop her, Miss Marple waved and shouted, “Dr. Cadwell!”
It took him a moment to focus on who was calling him. But I saw the recognition dawn on his face. He turned and made a break for it down his side of the street.
“Wait here,” I told Miss Marple, not expecting her to follow my instructions, and gave chase. I was hampered getting off the block by traffic, but once I was safely on the sidewalk I started catching up to Dr. Cadwell. He had the stride of an athlete, but the limp of an old athlete. When he turned down an alley, I was caught up with him easily enough.
But catching him was my first mistake. My second was tackling him to the ground. When I tried to pull his arm behind his back, he twisted onto his back and then rolled on top of me. I tried to wiggle free and, for a fleeting second, thought that I had succeeded. But that was just Cadwell lifting me off the ground.
Before I could come to terms with my predicament, the good doctor spun me ass over tea kettle. From there, he didn’t so much throw me to the ground, as hit me with the planet. I didn’t have a chance to catch the wind that’d been knocked out of me when he wrapped a massive arm under my chin with one of my own arms pinned to my ear. I’d been to a professional wrestling match before. I just never figured I’d see one again, at least not from inside the ring.
My vision began to go brown around the edges that quickly narrowed to an ever smaller tunnel. The last thing I heard before passing out was Miss Marple’s voice, “Steven, stop! Think of Siobhan and your . . .”