Seven Deadly Samovars (13 page)

Her sister’s voice was firm, “Goldie, you’ll have to push her, even if you have to offer more than she paid. We have to get our hands on that samovar and see what’s inside. It must be one of the gems.”

“You bet, kiddo! Sounds like that woman’s life is in danger,” Sterling said. “And you better call Caesar again, Godiva. Don’t forget, he’s got one of them, too. That makes him a sitting duck. And as if that’s not enough, our little Chili could be in danger when she’s around him.”

Goldie gasped as the reality hit her, but Godiva said, “Unk, don’t worry. I’ve got Ricky Thompson and Ivan guarding them, and besides, the Dumkovskys are still in Seattle. Those goons won’t leave until they get Mrs. Wurlitzer’s samovar, or at least what’s in it. I’ll call Caesar right after your act. In the meantime, I think we can trust Ricky and his crew.”

“
Oy vey
, such intrigue,” Flossie said. “Isn’t Ricky’s friend the one they call ‘Ivan the Terrible’? If anyone can smack those Russian bozos around, he sure can.”

They were almost to the Seattle Hilton when Goldie’s cell phone rang again. It was Mrs. Wurlitzer in a complete state of panic. She said when she got home, she found her maid bloody and unconscious on the living room floor. The ambulance came and rushed the poor woman to the hospital.

Mrs. Wurlitzer fussed and fretted, “I…can’t stay on the phone. Poor Emma. Promise you’ll call me first thing in the morning. I’m on my way to see her now and then I have to go to the police station and file a report.”

Goldie had no doubt about what happened. Just before she hung up, Mrs. Wurlitzer said, “Ms. Silver, you better have a good explanation for this tomorrow. My beautiful home is a wreck and it looks like the only thing missing is your blasted samovar!”

NINETEEN

       Flash Fitzgerald, a 93 year old magician was once known as the fastest hands in the magic world. As Flash shuffled onto the stage, leaning heavily on his walker, everyone in the audience rose to give him a round of applause that drowned out comments like, “My goodness, is that really Flash? I thought he died twenty years ago.” Or, “Poor old Fitzgerald, the only thing movin’ fast now are his knocking knees.”

Two young magicians assisted him as he wobbled his way up the stairs to the stage. Basking in the glory of the old days, the great Fitzgerald was instantly transformed into a caricature of the wonderful entertainer he had been nearly sixty years before. Strobe lights flashed and magician’s assistants in skimpy spangled outfits danced and pranced behind him on the stage. He was so excited, he almost spit out his dentures. With a flourish reminiscent of his days as the Flash, he gestured to the band to roll a fanfare, and then took a deep breath, exhausted from the effort.

He shuffled toward the mike and said in a quavery voice, “Welcome to the Icons of Illusion annual banquet.” There was a burst of applause. “Tonight we are honoring the three great Harrys. Now, some of you may favor Houdini or Blackstone, but I say Harry Silver was the greatest of them all.” The room rang with applause and shouts of praise for the twins’ father. Goldie reached over and squeezed her sister’s hand.

Flash started to tell a long story, but as it dragged on, the band drowned him out and he got the cue. Flash straightened up and squared his shoulders. “As a special treat, I am proud to present my dear friends Flossie and Sterling Silver, the remaining members of the Scintillating Silvers, who will now perform one of their famous illusions.”

To the astonishment of everyone in the audience, including Goldie and Godiva, Flossie and Sterling bounced out on stage like two youngsters, wheeling a huge brilliantly decorated wooden box. Goldie nudged Godiva. “I can’t believe it, Sis, look what Mom’s wearing. I didn’t know she still had that outfit. Look at her legs, she looks fabulous!”

Flossie, her tightly coiffed hair reflecting the stage lights, pranced to the middle of the stage in a gaudy blue and silver sequined outfit that barely cleared her slightly sagging bottom. She wore fishnet stockings and had covered her high heeled orthopedic shoes with silver sparkles. When she almost tripped, Godiva whispered to Goldie, “Let’s hope she doesn’t break a hip. I never would have thought she could squeeze into that outfit. It has to be more than fifty years old. But, I must say, she’s still a babe.”

“Yeah, well, an old babe.”

Flossie tossed her silver blue curls and gestured to Sterling, resplendent in a deep blue tuxedo with silver spangled lapels. He opened the box and they went through the whole routine, with Flossie getting into the box, disappearing and then reappearing. Goldie said, “I am so proud of them. I only hope I’ll be that sharp when I’m eighty.”

Godiva raised an eyebrow. “When you’re eighty? Mom runs circles around you now. Just kidding. Yeah, me too.”

Magicians young and old honored the octogenarians as they completed the act. Then Flash Fitzgerald said, “Flossie, Sterling, it is my honor to bestow this year’s Greatest Icon of Illusion award to our dear, departed Harry Silver, a legend in the world of magic.”

The band played a rousing tune and Flash held out the trophy. A magnificent gold-plated rabbit emerging from a rhinestone studded top hat. The old magician almost fell over his walker as the spangled dancers gyrated behind him. Tears rolled down Flossie’s cheeks.

In a brief, emotional acceptance speech, Sterling said, “On behalf of my dearly-departed brother, Flossie and I vow to carry on the Silver tradition in Harry’s name, until we perform our final, permanent disappearing act.” As they left the stage to change back into their normal clothes, there wasn’t a dry eye in the house.

Later, Flossie plopped into the chair next to Goldie while Sterling chose the one next to Godiva. She patted her daughter’s arm. “Whew, I’m glad that’s over. Did you see? I almost tripped over my own feet? Some trick that would have been.
Oy vey
, girls, take it from me…it isn’t easy being a sex symbol at eighty. And I’ll tell you another thing, that outfit was in the closet so long I think it shrunk a couple of sizes.”

Sterling laughed. “If my boyfriend Leonardo the Lion Tamer wasn’t so jealous, I might make a show of chasing after you.”

Flossie patted him on the back. “Thanks for the compliment, Sterling, but you just stick with the boys.”

“Anyway, old girl, you did great. I was just happy you were able to make it in and out of the box. If you had gotten stuck in there, we’d have been in a real pickle.”

A very curvaceous young woman in a skin-tight evening gown extended her hand as she approached their table. “Ooh, I just had to come over to tell you how much I admire you two. Harry Silver was the best! An inspiration to all of us. When I was a little kid I saw your act in Las Vegas. I watched Harry turn a turquoise blue scarf into a peacock, and that’s when I vowed I would do the same act one day. My mother finagled backstage passes, and he told me to follow my dream and signed an autograph. I still have it.”

“So kid, do you have a gig now?” Sterling asked.

She inhaled and puffed out her ample chest. “Yeah, I work with four peacocks in my show and I owe it all to Harry Silver. Mara the Magnificent, you may have heard of me. I’m the headliner at the Glitz Palace on the Strip in Vegas. Of course, if I’d known those birds were so messy I might have chosen cockatoos. But, hey, everyone has cockatoos. I think I’m the only one in the business with peacocks.”

She leaned over Sterling, her cleavage even with his nose, and tweaked his cheek. “If you get to Vegas, I’ll get you some comp tickets to the show.”

“You never know,” Flossie joked. “My horoscope said I was going to take flights of fancy. By the way, these are my daughters, Goldie and Godiva. Gorgeous, aren’t they? They’re my best creation.”

Mara looked from sister to sister. “Wait a minute, I know who you two are.” She turned to Godiva. “Your daughter is Chili Pepper on the Flirting With Food Show. I love her…she’s so quick with the comebacks and I guess everyone tells you how pretty she is. I saw you in the audience once when I was watching the show.”

Godiva gave her a polite smile and nodded.

Then the woman focused on Goldie. “And you. I’ll bet you thought magicians didn’t read advice columns… well, I read your
Ask G.O.D
column all the time. I’d recognize you anywhere from your picture.”

“Hmmmm…is that so?” Goldie said.

Mara beamed proudly. “I’m probably one of the only people you’ve met who can tell you two apart thanks to my keen powers of observation. After all, what’s a magician without observation?”

Goldie held back her giggles and smiled as Mara’s satin clad bottom wiggled away from their table. Godiva said with mock indignation, “Well, I hope her powers of observation are better when she does her bird act. Hmmmph. Thinking Goldie was me. I’ll bet she can’t tell a peacock from a pigeon.”

Goldie snorted. “Are you calling me a pigeon?” They all had a good laugh. As the evening continued, other magicians came to their table singing Harry Silver’s praises. On stage young illusionists tried, with varying degrees of success, to reproduce some of the three great Harry’s best tricks.

When the banquet came to an end, Godiva drove a very happy pair of elderly entertainers back to the Hotel Monaco. By the time they got there, Flossie was snoring in the key of C clutching the golden bunny to her bosom, and Sterling sounded more like an F-sharp.

TWENTY

       After the “headliners” were safely tucked into their beds, the twins went back to Godiva’s suite and sat down at the table to brainstorm. Goldie dug around in her huge carpetbag purse and hauled out her yellow pad. As she scribbled on it, Godiva called Caesar.

“Darling, you won’t believe what Angel found out about those samovars.” She told him about the precious alexandrites, and said, “Now that we know the Dumkovskys are after something so valuable, I’m really getting worried about your safety. Even with Ricky and his men guarding you, I don’t think you should keep the samovar there in the house. Thank goodness you have a good security system.”

“That I do, love. You shouldn’t worry so much, because you see—”

Goldie was gesturing to Godiva. “Tell him to keep an eye on Chili, too.”

Godiva cut Caesar off in mid-sentence. “Um, Caesar darling, watch out for Chili till we get back. Your samovar is an open invitation. If those Russians manage to get past Ricky, they might try to break into the house or even the studio.”

“There, there, Godiva dear. Aren’t you being a bit melodramatic?” Caesar said.

“Not in the least, Caesar” Godiva shot back. “After all, one person is dead because of those damned teapots, or maybe even two if you count Father Augustine, although I’m pretty sure his murder wasn’t related to the samovars. On top of that, three others have been attacked already and I don’t want you or Chili to be next. We’re pretty sure they’re still in Seattle, but who knows. I’ll be home tomorrow afternoon.”

Caesar groaned on the other end. “I feel ridiculous having bodyguards,
cara mia
. I can take care of myself. After all, I’m Romano. And besides—”

“Romano, schromano, I don’t want my boyfriend to go from sitting duck to dead duck. Trust me. Goldie is coming back with us to Los Angeles and we’re going to get down to the bottom of this whole mess. Belle has a friend whose husband is an L.A. police captain, so maybe we can actually get some help from the cops this time.”

There was a silence. Then Romano said, “Godiva, my dear, if you are done chattering, I’ve been trying to tell you that I don’t have the samovar. Remember I said I was buying it for my mother for her birthday? I’ve already had it packed up and sent to her in Palm Beach.

Godiva gasped. “Gone?”

“Yes, in fact she’s already received it and she absolutely loves it. I can just imagine her serving tea from that beautiful samovar to all of her fancy bridge club friends. She even asked for Goldie’s number to thank her, but my
mama mia
is a bit of a pest sometimes, so I told her I didn’t have it.”

Godiva hung up and turned to Goldie who was still scribbling on the yellow pad. “Caesar doesn’t even have the blasted thing. He sent it to his mother in Palm Beach. What now?”

Goldie tapped her finger against her chin, lost in thought. Finally she said, “So, your Latin lover sent the samovar off to his
mama mia
in Florida? By tomorrow I suppose
la Baronessa
Romano
will be serving tea to the
grande dames
of Palm Beach from a lovely Russian artifact with a smuggled gem inside. It sort of complicates everything, doesn’t it?”

“Maybe it’s a good thing that the Dumkovskys can’t get their hands on it. On the other hand, they don’t know that, so it doesn’t get Caesar off the hot seat.”

Goldie let out a big sigh. “How did we ever get mixed up in something like this? All I did was order a few samovars for the shop. The tourists love them, a real showy souvenir of Russian America. You know, some of them don’t even realize that Alaska is a part of the United States!”

“Yeah, and you had to order those fancy teapots from a couple of big time smugglers.”

“Now wait a minute, Godiva…Minsky & Pinsky were legitimate antique dealers. I dealt with them for many years. I’ll bet they were duped, or something.”

“Right, or something.” Godiva paced around the room, trying to sum up everything that happened. “Sis, have you ever noticed we seem to get into situations like this even when we’re minding our own business?”

She ticked off the incidents on her fingers. “You order some samovars and the next thing you know bad things start happening. Your friend Mimi is murdered, Rudy’s friend Taku is in jail, poor old Father Innocent is beaten up.”

“Yeah,” Goldie added. “Then Belle gets burglarized and takes a pot shot at the thieves who skip town dressed up like a couple of ugly women and when they get to Seattle, they beat up another poor victim before we can stop them.”

Godiva sighed again. “And it isn’t over yet.”

As Goldie scribbled a few more notes on her yellow pad, she glanced up and saw Godiva looking at her with a twinkle in her eye. “Well, there is one teensy little bright spot. Look how much we learned about alexandrite. I never heard of it before. Now that I know there’s a rare gem worth more than diamonds or emeralds, I’ll have to see if my jeweler at Bijoux de Beverly Hills can find one for me.”