By Ed Staskus

   When Oliver’s friend Donald turned ten his parents threw a birthday party for him and hired a magician to entertain the kids. The magician wore a black tux, a black cape with a red lining, a black top hat, and carried an ebony stick that was a gadget cane. Everybody at the party was mesmerized by his tricks. He called himself Mandrake the Magician. 

   Some of Donald’s so-called friends called the birthday boy Dumbo. He was on the chunky side, teetering on the edge of fat. His friendlier friends called him Donnie and suggested he stop eating Ho-Ho’s, which were frosted cream-filled cakes. He had either just eaten one or was planning on eating another one. He had an effigy of Happy Ho-Ho, the mascot of the snack, in a special place in his bedroom. Happy looked like Robin Hood, fit and trim, including a feathered hat. Donnie thought if he ate just one more Ho-Ho he would presto chango look just like Happy. No matter how hard he tried, though, he looked more chunky every day.

   The day after the party Donnie’s mother asked if he had seen her diamond necklace. She said it was missing. Donnie didn’t even know his mother had a diamond, much less a necklace of them. She said she kept it under lock and key in an organizer case on a shelf at the back of her closet.

   “The necklace case is still there, but the necklace is gone,” she said. “I don’t understand it. The box is still locked but my diamonds are gone.”

   The Perry police couldn’t make heads or tails of it. The house didn’t appear to have been broken into. The box didn’t appear to have been broken into. The only fingerprints on the box were those of Donnie’s mother. There were no clues whatsoever. They were stumped. They wrote a report and went back to the station to wait and see if anything developed.

   Donnie went to see Oliver on Sunday. Oliver was the Unofficial Monster Hunter of Lake County. He dabbled in solving crimes, too. When Donnie got there he saw that Oliver’s dad was barbequing. He invited himself to the picnic table and stayed the rest of the afternoon. The children put their heads together after finishing their hot dogs and slaw.

   Emma had joined Donnie and Oliver when she smelled the pigs in a blanket ready for mustard. She was Oliver’s older sister and right-hand man. She claimed to be the brains of the operation, much to her brother’s displeasure. She had been at Donnie’s birthday party with him. She was puzzled by the theft. There weren’t many cat burglars stealing gemstones in their neck of the woods.

   “When did your mom last see the necklace?” Emma asked.

   “Mom said she cleaned it the day before my party.”

   “When did she notice it was missing?’

   “The day after the party.”

   “That means it was stolen the day of the party,” Emma said. “Did you see anybody sketchy at your house that day?”

   “No, just my friends,” Donnie said.

   “Nobody more fishy looking than them?”

   “The magician was sort of fishy looking,” Donnie said.

   “I think that might be it,” Oliver said. “I don’t think he was the real Mandrake the Magician, at all. Real magicians are the most honest people in the world. They tell you they are going to fool you, and then they do it. I think it must have been the Clay Camel. If it was, he is the man who stole your mom’s necklace.”

   “Who’s the Clay Camel?

   “He is Saki, who is a master thief and a master of disguise. He’s a bad seed and a bad dude, too. Money means everything to him. He can change his appearance in seconds. I’m sure he pretended to be Mandrake.”

   “Before we get into the weeds, who is Mandrake the Magician, anyway?” Emma asked.

   “He used to be a stage magician about a hundred years ago,” Oliver said. “Then he started battling crime and injustice. He fights gangsters, mad scientists, and creatures from outer space. His hat, cloak, and wand were passed down to him by his father. His father’s name is Theron. He runs the College of Magic in the Himalayas. The Mind Crystal, which he is the guardian of, keeps him and Mandrake going strong. Mandrake can shape shift, levitate, and teleport. He is the fastest hypnotist in the world. All he has to do is gesture and his enemies see illusions. He lives in Xanadu, a mansion on top of a mountain in northern New York, near Canada. He doesn’t need anybody’s diamonds, that’s for sure.”

   “What about this Clay Camel character” Emma asked.

   “He’s a member of 8, which is a crime organization a thousand years old. Whenever they commit a crime, they leave the number 8 behind as a marker so everybody knows they did it. Saki leaves his own mark, which is a little clay statue of a camel. Did you see anything like that.”

   “My mom showed me a clay camel after the party,” Donnie said. “She thought it was mine. I thought somebody forgot it when they left.”

   “Now we know it was Saki, for sure,” Oliver said. “He’s going to be a tough nut to crack, especially if he has his daughter with him, which he probably does, since she loves everything shiny and expensive.”

   “My golly, he has a daughter?” Emma exclaimed in surprise.

   “Her name is Brass Monkey. She has faster fingers than even her father.”

   “How are we going to find them and get my mom’s diamonds back?” Donnie asked.

   “Maybe the real Mandrake could help?” Emma wondered out loud. “Do you have his phone number?

   “I have it somewhere,” Oliver said. He ran upstairs to his bedroom. He didn’t have a filing system, or any organizational system, at all. He scribbled things on scraps of paper and stuffed them into drawers. It usually took days to find anything. It drove Emma crazy. He finally found Mandrake’s phone number and ran back downstairs.

   “Where have you been?” Emma asked, exasperated at how long it had taken. “Donnie has eaten a half-dozen Ho-Ho’s already.”

   Neither Emma nor Oliver had a cellphone. They weren’t allowed. Donnie had one, though. Oliver borrowed it and stepped to the side. He called Mandrake the Magician. After a few minutes he stepped back to the picnic table.

   “He said he would teleport himself here in a few minutes.”

   Five minutes late there was a whoosh and a sudden burst of smoke under the cell tower at the far end of their backyard. A man in a black tux and cape and another man with black skin stepped out of the smoke cloud.

   “I brought Lothar with me,” Mandrake the Magician said. “He’s always a big help.”

   Lothar was Mandrake’s best friend and crimefighting partner. He had once been the Prince of the Seven Nations, an African federation of jungle tribes. He was invulnerable to most weapons under the size of a cannon, unaffected by heat and cold, and had the stamina of a hundred men. He could lift an elephant with one hand. No spells, incantations, or force bolts could hurt him. He wore a purple fez, short pants, and a leopard skin. He didn’t say much. Besides, his English was horrible.

   “Thanks for coming, the both of you. We need all the help we can get,” Oliver said.

   “Let’s get to it,” Mandrake the Magician said.

Next: Mandrake on the Move

Ed Staskus posts monthly on 147 Stanley Street http://www.147stanleystreet.com, Made in Cleveland http://www.clevelandohiodaybook.com, Atlantic Canada http://www.redroadpei.com, and Lithuanian Journal http://www.lithuanianjournal.com. 

A New Thriller by Ed Staskus

“Cross Walk“

“A once upon a crime whodunit.” Barron Cannon, Adventure Books

“Captures the vibe of mid-century NYC.” Sam Winchell, Beyond Fiction

Available on Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CRPSFPKP

Late summer and early autumn. New York City. A Hell’s Kitchen private eye. The 1956 World Series. President Eisenhower at the opening game. A killer in the dugout.