Free Disappearing Nightly by Laura Resnick Page A

enjoy some tobacco told me what had happened.”
    Recognizing our assistant stage manager from this description, I said, “And the game was afoot.”
    “Oh!” Max smiled in pleased surprise. “Are you a fan of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s work?”
    “Not particularly.”
    “I am. Though it cannot be denied that some of the ideas he adopted in his personal life were most peculiar.” Max shook his head. “Séances, spirit guides, channeling…Really, the nonsense that some people are gullible enough to believe!”
    My head was whirling. “Max…”
    “Here we are.”
    We stopped in front of an old, ivy-covered town house. A big window on the ground floor displayed many books. The lettering across the window read “Zadok’s Rare and Used Books.”
    “You’re a bookseller?” I said in confusion.
    “It’s a sideline. Mostly to avoid unconscionable persecution by the Internal Revenue Service.”
    “Visible means of support?” I guessed.
    “It seemed best to assume a profession they could easily categorize. My predecessor lacked such a ruse, and they hounded him until he was obliged to abandon his duty here and flee the country.”
    “There’s Evil, and then there’s Evil. ”
    “Indeed.” He put his hand on the door, pushed it open and gestured for me to enter.
    “Don’t you lock your door?” The shop was obviously not open for business this late.
    “It is locked,” he said, as I brushed past him. “But since I kept losing my keys, it seemed sensible to cast a spell so that it’s always open to me.”
    I turned around as the door closed behindhim. “Okay, that’s it! That’s it. Who are you? Casting spells, melting the crystal cage, sensing Golly’s disappearance from two blocks away, breaking into the theater tonight without even touching anything, dragon’s blood, curses, black magic—”
    “Some aqua vitae, perhaps?” Max suggested with a concerned frown as my voice grew shrill again.
    I took a breath. “Yes.” Another breath. “Yes. That’s a good idea.” If ever there was a night when strong drink seemed advisable, surely this was it.
    Max turned on the overhead lights, then started rummaging around in a massive, dark, very old-looking, wooden cupboard. It was about six feet tall and at least that wide, and had a profusion of drawers and doors. Not finding what he wanted in the first two cabinet doors he opened, he tried another, higher up. A bunch of papers, a box of candles and some feathers fell on his head.
    “Oh dear,” he said, “I really should tidy up one of these days.” He closed that cabinet and tried another. Flames burst forth from this one, and a roar that sounded like the wailing of the damned emerged from its interior. Max slammed the door shut and muttered, “God’s teeth, not again. ”
    I had meanwhile retreated halfway across the shop. “Max, what is the—”
    “No, no, don’t despair,” he said cheerfully. “I know I’ve got some brandy here somewhere. I just can’t quite remember where…Aha!” He triumphantly held up a crystal decanter containing glowing amber liquid. Literally glowing.
    I said, “Um, I don’t think—”
    “I’ll just find some glasses, and then we can…”
    “Should you really keep a thing like that right here in the shop?” I asked warily. “Where, you know, unsuspecting customers might fiddle with it?”
    Apparently not understanding what I meant, he glanced over his shoulder at me. I gestured to the cupboard and its contents. “Oh, no need to worry,” Max said. “It’s enchanted. Only I can open it. Well, Hieronymus will be able to open it, too, if he ever manages to say the incantation right. Poor boy. It’s not his fault, of course…”
    “Hieronymus?”
    “My assistant.”
    As Max continued rifling through the cupboard, I backed a little farther away from it, feeling I’d had enough shocks for one night. I looked around, shivering with reaction, and noticed despite my jangled nerves that the bookshop was,