I blasted into the Library, yanked the Paradox key out of the lock, and slammed the door shut behind me before I could be spotted by any cops or security guards. I made sure the door was shut tight, then spun around to come face to face with Everett, who was clutching the black book.
He looked pissed. His head was going bright red again.
“You are playin’ with fire, boy-o!” he exclaimed as he shook the book at me angrily. “You can’t go breakin’ laws, no matter how important it may seem. You go and get yourself locked up in jail, you won’t be doing anybody any good. Especially yourself.”
“Yeah, that was a close one,” I said as I hurried past him.
“It’s still a close one,” he exclaimed as he fell in behind me. “When you return, you’ll be going back at the exact same moment you left. The police will still be coming for you.”
Oh. Right. Forgot about that.
“Yeah, well, I’ll figure something out,” I said dismissively.
I went right to the circulation desk and reached below it to pull out the 1937 clothes I’d need to wear to blend in at olden-day Playland.
“You were right, Everett,” I said. “There’s way more to this story than we thought. It’s not just about Baz. Two ghosts are haunting Playland. Baz and Derby. They’re in limbo because neither of them knows what really happened the night Baz was killed. My guess is Derby thinks he’s the one who killed Baz. He left a candle in the Magic Castle, and a fire burned the place down. That’s his disruption. His spirit is probably trapped there as punishment. But it’s not the end of the story. There’s no way that little fire would have spread so quickly. I think the fire that killed Baz was set some other way. That’s what I’ve got to figure out.”
Everett flipped through the pages of the book quickly, scanning for details.
“I agree. The timing doesn’t seem to add up,” he said as his spectacles slid down onto his nose. He was gradually calming down and focusing on what needed to be done, rather than on the trouble I’d gotten myself into.
“As long as Baz’s spirit is hanging around Playland, protecting that machine, there’s no way I’ll be able to nab that crystal ball,” I said.
“I believe the police will have something to say about that as well,” Everett added.
“But if I can find the truth about what really happened that night, it might free up Baz and Derby so they can move on and leave Playland. That’ll give me a shot at getting the crystal ball and figuring out what’s going to happen to Theo tomorrow.”
“Simple as that?” Everett asked.
“Simple as that,” I replied.
“I do hope you’re right,” he said. “Do you have a plan for sleuthing out the truth?”
I pulled the sweater over my head and jammed on the floppy hat.
“Move the bookmark,” I said, gesturing to the black book. “Make it earlier that day, before the fire. I’ll stake out the Magic Castle. As soon as somebody does anything suspicious, I’ll have ’em.”
Everett took out the red bookmark and flipped through some pages, looking for the exact right spot in the story for me to enter.
“You’re a thinker, lad,” Everett said, chuckling. “Just like your father.”
I headed for the door on the far side of the Library, the one that would take me back into the story. Everett was right on my heels while flipping through the book.
“You need to be careful, Marcus,” he said. “If somebody has enough evil in their heart to murder Baz, they won’t think twice about hurting anyone who finds them out. The stories in the books may exist in their own dimension, but when you’re in it, you can still get hurt.”
“I’m not going to be a hero,” I said. “I just want the truth.”
“Which would make you a hero,” Everett said.
That made me smile. “Yeah, I guess it would.”
Everett closed the bookmark into the book and held it to his chest. “And that’s how you’ll finish the story,” he said with confidence.
I reached for the door and said, “No, the story won’t be finished until Theo is safe and we find Lu’s cousin.”
“Aye,” Everett said. “Good luck to you, lad. Keep your wits about you.”
“Always do,” I said, and opened the door that took me back into the workshop next to the carousel…in 1937.
The park was alive with people and excitement. I had gotten used to jumping back and forth in time, so I didn’t stop to gawk at the differences between Playland then and now. I just thought of it as two different places. When I stepped out of the carousel roundhouse, I saw that the sun was still up but shadows were growing long. If Everett had stuck the bookmark in the right spot, it was the afternoon of the big bad night. I had plenty of time before the fire would be set.
I wasn’t exactly sure what I should do, so I headed for the Magic Castle, thinking I would scout for any service doors that a killer could use to get inside and set a fire. On my way I passed a crowd of people gathered beneath a huge ladder that stretched straight into the sky. It had to be over a hundred feet high. At its base was a small pool of water that wasn’t much bigger than a backyard kiddie pool. On top of the ladder was a small platform, where a woman in a sparkly bright-red bathing suit stood. It made me dizzy just looking at her up there.
There was a drumroll coming from a guy standing near the base of the ladder. All eyes were on the woman. She was actually going to jump from that crazy-high perch into that little pool of water. If that wasn’t nuts enough, a guy walked up to the pool with a flaming torch and touched it to the rim. Fire spread quickly, forming a burning circle.
My mouth went dry. It was insane…and awesome.
The drumroll stopped. There was a long moment of silence as everybody held their breath, including me.
The woman jumped. She plummeted, picking up speed quickly. She did one twist, one somersault, and boom! She hit the water with a thunderous blast. Water erupted from inside the pool, dousing the flames.
I still hadn’t taken a breath. Was she okay? A couple of long seconds passed where I wasn’t so sure, but the woman suddenly popped up from beneath the surface, thrusting her arms to the sky in triumph.
An announcer called out, “Let’s hear it for the one, the only, Daring Donna!”
The place went nuts with applause. I clapped too. I wasn’t sure if it was out of respect for an incredible stunt or with relief that she hadn’t gone splat. A small band kicked in with an old-fashioned marching song as the woman climbed out of the pool and walked a victory lap around it while waving to the crowd. It wasn’t until then that I recognized her. I think it was more the bathing suit I remembered than the woman herself. It was the lady who Baz and the worker-guy in coveralls had been fighting over.
Daring Donna. The name fit. She was daring, all right. I kind of wished they still put on nutty stunts like this at Playland, but times were different then, I guess. It made me want to stick around to see what other death-defying shows they had going on, but I was on a mission and time was moving.
Looking past the crowd, I saw the familiar spires of the medieval-looking attraction that was the Magic Castle. The last time I had seen that building it was being destroyed by fire. But that wouldn’t happen until later that night. At the moment it was clean and intact. I couldn’t help but smile. Moving that bookmark around really did change where I entered a story. Amazing.
I had gotten halfway across the midway when I was shocked to see Baz headed my way. He wasn’t wearing his robes, but it was hard to miss him—he was so tall. His tight goatee was a dead giveaway too. The guy looked to be on a mission of his own. He strode quickly through the crowd with his head held high, as if he were operating on a more important level than the rest of us lowly peasants.
I followed him at a distance and had trouble keeping up with his long strides. People had to dodge out of his way or he would have walked right over them. I, on the other hand, had to snake in and out to avoid people.
Baz walked to the far end of the midway, opposite from where his show tent was set up. This was the Kiddie-Town section of Playland. He turned off the midway onto an intersecting sidewalk that led to a large wooden structure. It was a dome that covered an open-air dance floor. There were no shows going on, so the place was empty.
Almost empty. A woman sat alone on a bench outside the building.
It was Mrs. Simmons, the wife of the guy Baz had predicted would die. She still didn’t look so hot. Her eyes were red and puffy as if she’d been crying. Her hands were folded in her lap, where she nervously twisted a handkerchief.
Baz strode right up and stood over her, his long shadow throwing her into darkness.
I crept close and found a spot behind a tree that was close enough for me to hear what was going on, but not close enough to be spotted.
Baz glared down at her.
Mrs. Simmons kept her eyes on her hands, as if afraid to look up at him.
What was Baz doing? This poor woman had been through enough. She didn’t need any more grief from this ego-case.
“Dear Mrs. Simmons,” Baz said in a voice that was surprisingly gentle. “Thank you for meeting me.”
Mrs. Simmons lifted her chin, though she was too shy to make eye contact.
“What is it you want?” she asked in a meek voice.
“May I sit?” he asked politely.
She nodded, and Baz lowered himself onto the bench next to her. She sat there, stiff, as if the very presence of Baz was like sitting next to a disease.
“No words can tell you how sorry I am about the loss of your husband,” Baz said with what sounded like genuine sympathy. “I have no control over the visions I see. Oftentimes I learn of joyous news. Other times I receive warnings of grave danger. I regret that I was unable to convince your husband of the peril that awaited him.”
Huh? Baz actually sounded human.
Mrs. Simmons sniffed and said, “The things you see—are they images of a future that’s meant to be? Or does it create the future?”
Baz gave the question some thought and said, “No one can create someone else’s future. I certainly cannot. We all have choices. I simply see shadows of the way things might be.”
“So you had nothing to do with the accident?” she asked.
“Goodness, no!” Baz said, appalled. “I have no control over people’s lives.”
Mrs. Simmons nodded thoughtfully and said, “So if he had listened to you and gone home, would he have been saved?”
“I believe so,” Baz said. He looked to the ground. It was his turn to have trouble with eye contact. “Forgive me for not being more forceful with my warning. It is a regret I will forever carry with me.”
“That must be a burden,” she said. “Being able to see things like that.”
Baz shrugged, keeping his eyes down. Mrs. Simmons reached out and patted his hand. She was actually consoling him.
“It’s all right,” she said bravely. “Wasn’t your doing. You tried to save him. Thank you for that.”
Baz gave her a weak smile and reached into his jacket to take out an envelope.
“This is for you,” he said. “It isn’t a lot of money, but hopefully it will help you to make ends meet during this difficult time.”
Wow! Could it be true? Was Baz actually a softy?
“I can’t take your money,” she said. “Times are tough for everyone.”
“It isn’t all from me,” Baz said. “Every employee here at Playland contributed what they could. We’re a family, and we’ve lost one of our own. Please, we all want you to have it.”
Mrs. Simmons looked at the envelope, then took it and immediately burst into tears. She leaned into Baz’s shoulder, and he offered her a consoling hug.
I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. I thought Baz was an arrogant jerk, and maybe he was. Or maybe that whole superior thing was part of his act. But the guy went out of his way to take up a collection to help out the poor lady. It made me think that having the power to tell people’s futures might not be such a great skill. I wouldn’t want that kind of pressure.
So Baz was actually human. Go figure. More important, he said the words I was desperate to hear. The future that crystal ball shows, the future he sees, doesn’t have to come true. He used the magic word: might. I liked might. That meant things could be changed. There was hope for Theo. All we had to do was figure out what he had to be careful of.
Baz stood up, gave a respectful bow to Mrs. Simmons, and headed back the way he had come. I skirted the tree so he wouldn’t see me and then followed him again. I was feeling bad for the guy. He was going to die that night. Knowing he wasn’t a total jerk made his death seem that much more pointless. He might have had enemies, but he also had a heart. The Oracle Baz was a way more complicated guy than I had thought. More than ever, I wanted to solve the mystery of his death and free his spirit from the park. He deserved that.
He was almost back to the midway when a man leapt out from behind a concession stand. The guy grabbed Baz by the shirt and pulled him behind the small structure. Baz was caught totally by surprise. The guy started whaling on him, punching him in the stomach and ribs. Baz didn’t stand a chance. The guy threw four or five solid punches that made sickening thuds when they hit. He would have kept going if a woman hadn’t run up and pulled him away from Baz.
“Stop it, Ron! You’ll kill him!” she shouted.
I recognized the guy. It was the boyfriend who had threatened Baz with the sword. The woman was his girlfriend. Daring Donna. Her hair was still wet from her death-defying leap into the flaming pool.
The angry guy, Ron, pulled away from the woman and leaned down to Baz, pointing a threatening finger at him. “I’ll kill you, all right,” he snarled. “You won’t always have somebody around to protect you.”
The guy straightened up and grabbed the woman’s arm, ready to storm off. But the woman yanked her arm back. By then a crowd had gathered, and Ron didn’t look like he wanted to make a scene, so he left Daring Donna standing there and hurried off.
Donna went right to Baz, who was trying to sit up but was having trouble. He was hurting.
“I’m so sorry,” she said. “Now you know why I don’t want to be with him anymore. His temper is horrible.”
“My dear Donna,” Baz said, clenching his teeth to fight off the pain. “He is a coward. He never would have gotten the best of me if I had seen him coming.”
“That’s just it,” she said. “You’ll never see him coming.”
“Not true,” Baz said with a small smile. “I see all sorts of things. Don’t fear for me, my dear. Worry about yourself. Stay away from him. If you need my protection, you have it.”
“Thank you, Baz, thank you,” she said.
Daring Donna backed away and melted into the crowd that had circled Baz. Everyone stood there, staring in wonder.
Baz stood up straight, grimaced in pain from the effort, gave a theatrical bow, and announced, “And that, my friends, is the end of the matinee. Be sure to attend my show tonight for a far more interesting and enlightening performance.”
He strode off with his head held high as people laughed and clapped.
Gotta admit, the guy had style.
I followed him as he made his way back toward his show tent. He wasn’t walking as quickly as before and was hunched over a little. I think the beating Ron had given him had done some real damage. It explained why Baz was in so much pain during the performance he would give later that night. He probably had a couple of busted ribs.
Ron had suddenly become my number one suspect. He’d threatened to kill Baz, and Baz would be killed that night. It didn’t take Sherlock Holmes to connect the dots. But I had to know for sure, which meant I probably had to catch Ron in the act of setting the fire.
Waiting for Baz outside his show tent was Hensley, the park manager.
“You’re a fool, Baz,” Hensley said.
Baz strode right past him to the tent. “I’ve been called worse,” he said as he disappeared inside.
Hensley followed him, and I quickly snuck in after them. I crouched down near the door, where they couldn’t see me but I could still hear what was going on.
Baz went straight up onto the stage and began polishing the various swords he used in his act. He wasn’t moving as smoothly as before. He was definitely hurting from the beatdown he’d just gotten.
Hensley stayed on the floor in front of the stage, his hands on his hips, looking up at Baz.
“You’re better than this,” Hensley said. “You’re doing a two-bit carny act for rubes when you could be rolling in it. You can see the future for Pete’s sake! You can predict things that’ll happen! Think of how much that could be worth! Tell me who’s going to win the World Series—I’ll bankroll the bets. We’ll clean up. Look into that ball of yours and see who’s gonna be the next heavyweight champ and we’ll be rich. You tell me things that’re gonna happen, and I’ll find a way to turn it into cash. What’s stopping you?”
Baz stayed focused on the sword he was polishing. “My gift is a responsibility, not an asset,” he said. “I have ethics.”
“Ethics schmethics!” Hensley exclaimed. “Where do you think your paycheck comes from? It’s from the saps who pony up good coin to come to this park and watch you show off that so-called gift. I don’t see you turning down that money. Ethics go out the window when it comes to cold hard cash.”
“Indeed,” Baz said. “Anyone who would skim a percentage from Playland’s daily receipts has no ethics whatsoever.”
Hensley stood up straight as if Baz’s words had hit him like a bolt of lightning. “What’re you sayin’?” Hensley asked.
“There is much about the future that I see,” Baz said. “It’s quite the disturbing burden to learn someone close to you has done something horrid. It raises the question, what should I do with that knowledge? I’m sure the police would love to hear my tale.”
“Are you threatening me?” Hensley said, his anger growing.
He made a move to step up onto the stage, but Baz quickly pointed his sword at the man. Hensley stopped short.
“I’m telling you that I know what you’ve been doing,” Baz said. “You’re a thief, Hensley. You’re stealing from every last person who works at this park when you skim the gate receipts. And you wouldn’t even contribute a dime to help Simmons’s widow.”
“It was an accident! Accidents happen! Wasn’t my fault.”
Baz straightened up as if Hensley’s words had a horrible odor. “You will resign from Playland,” Baz said coldly. “Now. Today. Do that and no one will ever learn of your odious little thefts. You have my word. Take your money and go. But if you stay, I don’t need to look into your future to know it will involve a jail cell.”
Hensley balled his hands into fists. If Baz hadn’t been pointing a sword at him, I think he would have jumped up onto the stage and start swinging. There was a tense moment where the two stared each other down.
“Turn me in and you’ll regret it, pal,” Hensley said. “You can count on that.”
“What I count on is never seeing you again,” Baz said. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I must prepare for my performance.”
Hensley headed for the exit. “Watch your back, pal,” he warned as he spun on his heel and hurried out of the tent.
I had to duck behind a large stand-up sign for The Oracle Baz so he wouldn’t see me.
Baz went back to polishing his sword as if nothing had happened. The guy was icy cool, considering that his life had just been threatened by two different people. I now had two prime suspects who could have set the fire. Or who were about to set the fire. Somehow I had to figure out which one would do it, or if it was somebody else entirely. The only thing I felt certain of was that Derby hadn’t done it. There was only one way to know for sure: I had to see it happen for myself. So I snuck out of the tent and headed for the Magic Castle.
Night had fallen. The lights of the park had sprung to life. I passed several people who were walking in the other direction, headed toward Baz’s tent to get in line for the next show. After having been through it all once already, I figured I had about twenty minutes before Baz would see something disturbing in his crystal ball and suddenly end the performance and go back to the Magic Castle.
Sometime between now and then, the fire would be set.
I had to be there when it happened.