Hide and Snake Murder by Jessie Chandler. Page B

out soon enough.”
    As she spoke, one side of the tall, rolling doors slid open. One of the magicians, the bucket drummer, and the Statue of Liberty entered the warehouse. Liberty deposited the powder-blue container that presumably held our bags near the door.
    The black mutt bounded along beside them until he got an eyeful of the three of us outsiders. He galloped toward us, yipping in delight.
    Liberty said, “Dave! Come here.”
    The dog leaped joyously and bounded back to Liberty. That voice … then it dawned on me. “Oh my god, is that you, April?”
    Liberty grinned a very non-mime grin. “Shay O’Hanlon, how are you?”

    I’d met April and Mary McNichi a number of years earlier when they were first starting out as an act playing small dives in Minneapolis. They bailed six years back and headed to a warmer climate. They pair spent some time in Key West performing during the Sunset celebration and eventually settled in New Orleans a year after Katrina hit.
    â€œAnd that’s what we’ve been up to,” April finished as she rinsed the last of the gunk from her hair and face in a sink attached precariously to the wall. She vigorously rubbed at her now mostly green-free hair with a towel.
    The rest of us had gathered around one of the tables. Mary had her chair balanced on its two back legs as she stroked Dave the Dog’s head. I was waiting for her to tumble end over keister. She said, “Why are you guys running from those two goons? It was lucky Houdini,” she pointed at the magician still in the Dr. Seuss hat who sat slouched on a bar stool, “realized you three were running from something more than the calories in a beignet.”
    Gabby said, “We simply moved up our little disappearing act a wee bit. It’s the finale of the day.”
    Baz asked, “Do all of you work together?”
    Houdini took off his striped hat, stuck his hand inside and pulled out a large gold coin. He flipped it in the air, snapped his fingers, and the coin disappeared. Cool.
    â€œNot all of the performers out in the Square do.” His voice rumbled from somewhere below his knees. “A while back a few of us decided it might be more profitable to gang up, so we rented this,” he indicated the space with a sweep of his hand, “and came up with a number of acts we could do together throughout the day.” He shrugged. “It’s been working okay.”
    April threw the towel aside and sat next to Mary. “Back to you. What’s going on?”
    I sketched out the bare minimum of what had happened in the last twenty-four hours. “We have two major problems. We need to find the stuffed snake and get it back to the goons, unless they do have Rocky. If they do have him, then we trade Baz here—”
    Baz barked, “That’s NOT part of the deal.”
    I looked at him with narrowed eyes. “If that’s what it takes … ”
    â€œEnough!” Coop said around another mouthful of gum.
    I shifted my gaze off Baz on onto April. “And we have to find Rocky.”
    Houdini slid off the barstool. “What’s he look like?”
    I said, “He’s about five-three, maybe 180. In his early forties, I think, but acts more like a kid. He always wears an aviator style cap. The kind with the ear-flaps.”
    Houdini nodded.
    â€œHe wears that hat no matter how hot it gets.” An ache formed in my temple, and I absently rubbed it with two fingers. “The current hat is blue plaid. He’s pretty round. He used to always wear this awful down-filled green winter coat all the time, and I mean always . But now he’s replaced it with a Twins jacket.”
    â€œThe guy loves baseball,” Coop added. “And has one hell of a throwing arm.”
    â€œYeah,” I agreed. “He does. The jacket’s varsity style, like kids in high school wear, and it’s navy blue with cream-colored sleeves.