Showcase: Mysto, Magician Detective
Men of Mystery
by Libbylawrence
A handsome man with graying hair walked through the streets of a colorful neighborhood. He moved with the elegant slightly theatrical manner of one accustomed to being on the stage. Even as he made his way through the city, he maintained something of a theatrical manner in his walk and in the way he held his head. He had the habit of stroking his bare upper lip as though he had once been used to caressing a mustache in that spot.
He frowned as a boy with a shaved head and heavy dangling earrings passed by with a large portable cassette player on one arm. The so-called music that blared out of the machine disturbed the older man who stopped in his tracks and glared at the oblivious youth who shoved passed him.
“Disrespectful young punk should have a keeper then again; he may not be any different from my own grandson! They share a love for the same kind of noise,” he thought. He started to raise his hand and lowered it again. “I could have that infernal tape player out of his grasp and in pieces on the sidewalk before he could blink an eye but that’s not the right way to deal with him. He and his kind own the world now. I’m just a relic of a forgotten age. I should be gathering dust like the clippings from my scrapbooks back home. I’m a useless man who is closer to the grave than the cradle. No one cares about me and I don’t know that I can blame them for their apathy!”
He leaned against the wall and as the shade of an awning sheltered him from the warmth of the sun, he remembered the scene that had preceded his abrupt departure from his apartment. He had been eagerly awaiting the arrival of his daughter Leslie and her son Mike when their car had pulled up outside his apartment unit and he had heard Mike’s still strident young voice above the heavy metal that blared from the radio. “Mom, I hope Gramps doesn’t pull out those ratty old books of his. It’s bad enough to have to waste an afternoon in that smelly dump without being bored to death!” he had said.
Leslie had urged the boy to lower his voice and she had added, “Your grandfather was a famous and respected magician and a hero as well!”
Mike had rolled his eyes and replied, “Mysto? That was a lame name. Real heroes are guys like Cyborg or Batman!”
Rick Carter had stepped outside and greeted the pair with sincere warmth and affection. He had brushed aside Mike’s remarks as merely being the callow comments of an immature and undeveloped mind. However, he had not been able to forget the words or entirely overcome his own hurt feelings.
He had tried to enjoy their visit and he could see clearly that both his daughter and her son had a real affection for him but affection did not necessarily equate with respect or admiration. After they drove off hours later, Rick had puttered around the apartment before turning on the TV.
He remembered seeing a pair of magicians performing their act on a talk show and the sight and sounds of their act had repelled him. “Profanity and violence cloaked in the trappings of illusions. This is nothing more than trash!” He had switched off the set and stormed out of his apartment. He just felt like he had to get away.
None of the small events had been enough to upset a man who had in truth been a real hero but the combination of things added to a growing sense of discontent had been too much for him and had produced an uncharacteristic depression.
Now, he leaned against the wall and glanced over to peer inside the windows of the strangely quaint little shop. He saw rows of glass containers, exotic relics, and a décor that combined a trace of the Orient with something he could not quite identify even considering all of his own travels.
On an impulse Rick Carter entered and took a closer look around the odd little shop where he saw shelves lined with jars and containers. Odd scrolls, pictures, mirrors, and things he could not identify if his life depended upon doing so, filled the space which seemed oddly larger on the inside than it had from without. The most striking and precious object in the shop was not inanimate. Nothing of metal, glass, or wood could equal the dazzling glamour of the woman called Madame Xanadu.
She swept into the room without a sound except perhaps the silken rustling of her alluring purple gown. Her spike heels made no sound as she seemed to float across the shop in a sea of exotic perfume which intoxicated the observer almost as much as did the lovely woman’s dark and compelling beauty. “I welcome you, Rick Mysto Carter. I am Madame Xanadu, and I sense you need succor of a kind I may offer freely this day,” she said.
Mysto said, “Well, I am flattered that you recognize me but I’m not really looking to buy anything. I even left my wallet back at my apartment.”
She touched his sleeve and led him to a table where she sat down, crossed one bare leg, and gazed directly into his soul. Haunting eyes with heavy eye shadow and luminous appeal bore into his own eyes as she stared into his soul and held his glance.
“You have the Eyes of the Ancients! You are a remarkable young woman! I can see that all too clearly! Perhaps, you are a bit too exotic to be real!” he muttered.
She laughed and leaned closer. She placed one elegant hand on his palm and said, “I am not a mirage or one of the illusions for which you have a justly earned renown! You are troubled. That much is apparent. Tell me what it is that haunts you?”
Mysto said, “Nothing really…I’m feeling a bit old and useless. My grandson came by and he is a bright boy with totally no interest in my old work. I guess I am still hungry for the roar of the crowd from my performing days. My magic act used to fill some mighty impressive houses. Now, I’m just a forgotten name from the past. I just wish I had made more of a difference.”
Madame Xanadu leaned a bit closer and her perfume seemed to overwhelm her guest. He felt a bit dazed and the shop became a bit dim to even his keen eyes. “Now, Mr. Carter, you above all men should know that there is power to be found in an understanding of the appearance of things. You have had a career of danger, drama, and heroism. What appears to be mundane or old fashioned or of little value to those who lack your own perceptive manner, may truly be of immense value and significance when viewed through eyes that truly see! I would have you gaze at the cards before us and let them show you a truer story!” she said.
She spread a row of cards across the table with a movement that was so graceful and sudden that even Rick Carter was taken by surprise. “Lady, I knew a gal with legs like yours would be a real draw on stage but you have a real talent for sleight of hand too!” he said.
She said nothing but lowered her eyes and waited as he too glanced downward. “The cards reveal much that I anticipated. They show that you and other men of courage and humanity accomplished far more than any of you ever knew! Listen, and we will see it all more clearly!”
As Mysto stared at the cards and then lifted his eyes again until they met the almost luminous eyes of Madame Xanadu, he saw the surroundings change. He saw a wide blue sky over a flat prairie and in place of the sultry woman’s perfume he smelled motor oil! He moved forward with a slight start as he heard the roar of an engine.
He looked around and realized that he was no longer in the strange shop. He stood within the open air confines of a stock car race track. He saw mechanics and owners and drivers and fans all around him and he also knew one other thing. He was a young man again and he had lived through this whole situation before.
Some part of him released his hold on the present and for a time Rick Carter was young, vital, and living in the moment in the early 1950′s again! He forgot everything that had happened to him after this one moment. It was as if he was living the event for the very first time!
“Mr. Carter? I can’t tell you what it means to me that you agreed to come here,” said a fat man who wiped sweat off of his bald head and reached out a moist hand before hastily withdrawing it and wiping it on his shirt.
“Mr. Davis, I presume! This is your stock car track. Forgive me for being startled, I did not expect to find a man of your position actually working on a car!” he said.
Davis smiled and said, “Shucks, Mr. Carter, I may have a bit of money these days but I still have oil and grease in my veins! The fellas let me tinker a bit with their cars. They like to butter up the owner, don’t’ you know?”
Mysto said, “I understand. Now, as to why I’m here, I am a bit of a motor car enthusiast myself and that is why I gladly offered to perform my act before the race on Sunday in exchange for the chance to soak up the sights and sounds of this fine sport!”
Peter Davis grinned and said, “Maybe, you can take one of the cars out for a spin when the track is clear. Between you and me, I got pull with the owner! Get it, I am the owner!”
Mysto nodded and stroked his mustache as he did so often when lost in thought. “I admit to being more comfortable in the skies in my plane but I certainly won’t turn down your kind offer!” he said.
As he followed Peter Davis across the pavement, he recalled the real reason he had abruptly altered his Midwest tour schedule and offered to do his act at the track. He had been practicing a small piece of business involving a series of linked rings in his dressing room following a very successful performance in Topeka, when a stranger had stepped out of the shadows and begun an earnest conversation.
“Richard Carter, you do not know me but I have heard of you and it is imperative that you heed my words although I am but a stranger. A man’s life is in peril and only you can prevent a murder that will be even more of a tragedy than any involved can imagine!” he had said.
Mysto had listened and something in the man’s manner or voice had convinced him to trust the dark clad man and follow his suggestions. Thus, he listened and learned that a killer was stalking the Davis stock car track and Sunday’s race would be the scene of an attempted murder.
Before he could do more but make certain he had the facts straight, the man was gone!
Mysto had smiled rather sardonically and muttered a comment about smoke and mirrors but in the solitude of his own hotel room that night, he had made the necessary changes to his schedule and he had planned to visit the Davis track as instructed.
Now, he followed Pete Davis around and listened as the proud little man bragged about his track.
“We don’t get the big names but some of our local boys are as good as any drivers you’ll find. Yessir, take Matt Weston’s crew. Ole Matt is as road savvy as they come. He’s had a rough season and this race means a whole lot to him. Some types all the skill in the world can’t change fate and Weston is in debt. If he doesn’t win this one then he may just have to quit the circuit.”
Mysto nodded as he watched a brown haired man talking to a crew near an impressive race car. “Weston seems a bit upset!” he added as he noticed the man raise one fist as another uniformed driver stepped closer.
They hurried closer and Mysto heard Weston bellow, “I’ll kill you, Cronin! I’ll see you go up in flames!”
The two angry men started to exchange blows until the more skilled Mysto stepped between them and separated them. “Gentlemen, save your aggression for the race!” he said.
Weston said, “Listen, Mister, this is private business! So take a hike!”
Davis said, “Matt, you can’t talk like that to a fan. This is Mysto the Magician. He likes the sport!”
Weston said, “Sorry! I guess I lost my head. But, I’m warning you Cronin, don’t make eyes at my girl again!”
Cronin, a handsome man with broad shoulders and a cocky manner grinned insolently. “Weston, I’m saving Kim from marrying a pauper! When I win this race, you’ll be through. I know your creditors won’t give you a second chance to repay all those loans!” He walked off and Mysto frowned as he saw Weston clinch his fists again.
“Mr. Weston, as a stage performer I’ve learned to watch the audience and I fancy myself to be something of a connoisseur of people. Well, you are made of sterner stuff than this. Do not despair. I believe you will win this race and win the girl as well. Remember, what they say about the course of true love never running smoothly.”
Matt Weston shrugged and said, “Cronin knows how to get me mad. He and I go back a long way. We used to even be pool hall buddies. Those days are gone. He hates me for taking Kim away from him and he’d love to steal her away from me as revenge!”
He smiled as a pretty red haired woman approached them along with a slightly reserved looking man with a pleasant if ordinary face.
“We heard the yelling clear across the track. Don’t tell me you let Steve provoke you again?” asked Kim Johnson.
Matt said, “Well, actually, I did! Kim, Jon, this is Mysto the famous magician. He’s going to perform at the race.”
Jon extended one weathered hand and said, “Nice to meet you. I came back to help out my old partner Matt because this race is not far from my place but I didn’t expect to meet a real celebrity!”
Mysto smiled and greeted the newcomers as he watched their expressions and tried to figure out if the passionate exchange he had interrupted carried the answer to the attempted murder he was planning to stop!
“Weston seems like a good man but he has a bad temper. His money concerns and his passion for Kim could be the triggers that transform a nice man into a killer. Still, something about Cronin makes me wary too!” he thought.
That night, Mysto walked around the small plaza where the drivers were staying. They were all using rooms at the Lincoln Hotel he found many of them over dinner in the hotel’s small but pleasant diner. He saw Kim and Matt at a corner table. The pretty girl was playfully feeding Matt from her plate. The more serious looking Jon was sitting nearby.
Mysto didn’t see Cronin but then from what he’d gathered the hard living driver didn’t seem the type to be content to spend his evenings in such a mundane environment.
Mysto frowned as he saw the happy scene change abruptly as Matt groaned and clutched at his stomach. In a matter of moments, the pleasant meal had turned into a nightmare as the driver’s pain became evident and a waiter hovered in concern.
Kim said, “He’s ill! We need a doctor!”
Mysto nodded in approval and saw the elderly man who had been identified to him earlier as Doc. Green enter the room with a worried waitress.
The doctor led the trio of Matt, Jon, and Kim to a private room near the main lobby as Mysto suddenly clutched the waiter’s arm as he started to clear the now empty table. “I’d prefer you leave those plates alone for now. We may need to preserve the remains for later examination!” he said.
The waiter nodded and backed away from the table.
Mysto said, “I am no physician unless one could call me a metaphysician but I’d wager Matt’s food poisoning might be more than a matter of bad meat loaf!” He noticed that Matt was the only one of the trio that had ordered the meat loaf and the others had contented themselves with fried chicken. He turned as the local Sheriff entered the room and he stood up to greet the stout man.
“Sheriff Tupper? I saw one of your reelection posters when I came into town. I’m Rick Carter. I take it your presence here means Doc Green views Matt’s plight as being serious and potentially criminal in origin!”
Tupper said, “Who in the blue blazes are you? We don’t cotton to that kind of fancy Sherlock Hemlock stuff here!”
Mysto said, “Let me assure you that I meant no offense. I have reason to believe that Matt Weston is in danger. A source alerted me to the possibility that there was going to be a murder attempt here. Matt’s abrupt and extreme illness made me assume he had been poisoned!”
Dr. Green cleared his throat and stepped into the room.
“You must be a psychic as well as a magician, Mysto. I just concluded the same thing. Matt was poisoned. I have to wait on the county lab boys to examine the food but I’m an old pill pusher and I’d stake my reputation on it.”
Sheriff Tupper said, “Well, I reckon if you say so Doc. I’ll go along with it. We’ll take the plates and run some tests. Now, Mr. Mysto, is it? What brings you here and who is this mysterious pal of yours who can predict murder attempts?”
Tupper sputtered in anger as he realized that Mysto was gone! The suave sleuth had slipped into the kitchen while the doctor had occupied the lawman.
Jon was already there and he greeted Mysto as he entered. “The scene of the crime as they say in the pulps!” he said.
Mysto said, “Indeed, I believe that to be the case. How is Weston? I take it he will recover?”
Jon nodded. “I think so. Thank goodness. Still, I don’t like this whole situation. Cronin and Matt have been going at it for years and Cronin knows something that makes him look mighty suspicious to me. He knows Matt’s partial to meat loaf. Matt used to get a real ribbing over it from me, Cronin, and all his old pals.”
Mysto said, “That is interesting. Still, I can’t imagine that no one else in the diner ordered meat loaf. It is the special of the day. I can confirm that from the lovely Lucille when she returns from without.”
Jon nodded and said, “The waitress. I plumb forgot her name was Lucille. You didn’t even eat here but you caught that name tag. You got sharp eyes but I guess in your trade you have to!”
Mysto said, “Thank you. In any case, Lucille has much to answer for. She served your table and I know that all the meat loaf was not tampered with since other customers might have ordered it. It would be far too slim a grounds upon which to base a murder attempt to rely on Matt’s proven preference for the stuff! If it was poisoned then Lucille did it since she alone had access to his serving!”
Suddenly, he darted forward and shoved the door open. Lucille fell into his arms and gasped as Mysto pulled her closer and said, “You were listening outside. I smelled you unique perfume.”
Lucille said, “I’m not just some hash slinger. I’m also the cook. I have every right to be here.”
Mysto said, “Indeed, you do. And I have to right to ask you about this phone number?” He held up a slip of paper she had torn from her pad. It had a two digit number on it along with a faint powdery substance. “This number 12 is too small to be a phone number but I’d wager it is an extension number for Mr. Cronin’s room in this very hotel. He paid you or romanced you to plant something in Matt’s food.”
Lucille began to weep as she reached into her now empty pocket. “How’d you get that? I never felt a thing!”
Mysto smiled grimly and said, “I have picked up a few tricks like that in my time. Picking a pocket is not that different from manipulating props on stage!”
“He said it was just a joke. He promised it would just make him drunk!” she sobbed.
Sheriff Tupper burst into the kitchen and jabbed a finger at Mysto’s chest. “Now, lookey here, you…!” he began before Mysto cut him off with a commanding and resonant tone suitable for the stage.
Mysto said, “Sheriff Tupper, Doc. Green, Lucille has a story to tell you. I would go pick up Cronin as well. You’ll find him in room 12 or at the pool hall down the street.”
Tupper sputtered and allowed Green to lead him out to where he gave instructions to his lone deputy. Lucille was taken away as well by the slightly overwhelmed lawman.
Mysto said, “I recalled you mentioned that in their friendlier days Matt and Cronin were pool buddies. His phone number which I removed from Lucille’s uniform pocket and the trace of pool cue chalk which remains on said slip of paper was enough for me to suspect Lucille had been involved with Cronin!”
Jon nodded in agreement. “Land sakes, you are a regular Mandrake!” he said.
Kim emerged from the private room and sobbed as Jon tried to comfort his old pal’s girl. “Kim, Matt’s going to be fine. Dr. Green told us both that earlier. Don’t fret so!” he said.
Kim said, “I know but he can’t drive tomorrow. Without the prize money, we won’t be able to pay his debts or get married!”
Jon said, “Look, I told him I’d help if I could. The farm’s not doing so well lately but we have a nest egg.”
Kim said, “No, we won’t bring you and your wife down with us.”
Jon said, “Well, then, I’ll just have to drive in Matt’s place. I am rusty but he and I used to be partners before my courting days led me away from the track.”
Mysto said, “That is very sporting of you but with a small child at home, surely you have too much to lose to risk yourself.”
Jon grinned and said, “OK, I’m willing to play Dr. Watson. How’d you know about my young’un?”
Mysto said, “I saw you ask some of the drivers to autograph a plush toy car you’d brought yesterday. I deduced it was for a small son.”
Jon said, “You hit that nail on the head but I’m trying raise my boy with a set of values and a sense of responsibility toward others. If I can help Matt then I’m going to try!”
Mysto said, “I admire those ethics. I would predict your son will turn out to be a fine man someday if he’s anything like his Pa. Blood will tell, you know.”
Jon said, “Thank you. Our boy is adopted but we love him like he was flesh and blood to us!”
The next day dawned bright and clear and remained so as crowds assembled around the noon hour for the race. Mysto felt the same old sense of exhilaration as he waited to go on the hastily rigged stage to perform his act. He had been a daring pilot before embarking on his career as an illusionist yet he had never truly felt as alive in the air as he did on stage.
He smiled after greeting the cheering audience and he performed one trick after another. The crowd gasped and cheered in unison and he felt the old thrill surge through his body. “While I warn them repeatedly that there is no such thing as magic, they still eat up every illusion as if I was Merlin himself! I suppose they prefer to think I am some wizard than just a dapper guy getting them to expect one thing while delivering the opposite through some agility and finesse and a bit of flash powder!” he thought.
He glanced across the track to where some of the drivers were in discussion. They would be ready to race in a matter of minutes. “Great Scott! How blind have I been?” he thought as he glanced down at his gloves.
He dropped a pellet that he had palmed earlier and as smoke filled the stage, he raced away. This was a dramatic way to end the act but it was not in his staged routine. He had merely adopted the smoke pellet vanishing act as a way to depart the stage early.
He pushed through a crowd of mechanics and grabbed Jon as he prepared to climb inside his car. “Get back! You must get back!” he yelled.
Jonathan frowned and moved away from the car as Mysto grasped his arm. “I think your car has been rigged. Cronin was not going to rely on the food poisoning alone to get rid of Matt. That white powder I foolishly called pool cue chalk on the piece of paper Lucy received from Cronin looked like cue chalk and Cronin was an avid player but I was wrong. I was smug. In my act, I often use certain chemical solutions which appear to be and are harmless when considered alone but when I add certain other compounds to them from say a wand or my gloves the chemicals react to produce desired effects like a glow or a flash for instance. Well, it occurred to me while I was on stage that the cue powder might have really been a certain chemical- derivative of magnesium to be exact which when added to other chemicals creates combustion! By itself the substance would be harmless and look like cue chalk!”
He wiped his hands across the steering wheel and sniffed his fingers. “I was right. This slightly filmy substance on your wheel would have ignited when you touched it. I can detect an odor from your driving gloves. They’ve been coated with minute traces of the same white powder and a trace of it remained on the piece of paper on which Cronin wrote down his number while seducing Lucille in order to get her to drug Matt! When that powder on your gloves hit the substance on the wheel, you and your car would have gone up in flames! Cronin must have tampered with your car and your gear before he was picked up last night.”
Jon shook his head. “You saved my life! I would have burned alive out there. Maybe, they would have written it off as a wreck and nothing more too! Cronin almost killed me in his mad quest to pay Matt back!”
Mysto said, “And yet, maybe he was not alone!” He hurried back and faced a crowd of mechanics. He waited for a moment and then after scanning the group, he tackled one rather gaunt figure.
As he wrestled the man to the ground, Mysto was joined by Sheriff Tupper who questioned the magician-sleuth and received this reply. “When I came in I passed through a crowd of mechanics. All of them had something in common except for one of them. They had oil or grease on their hands. One did not. His nails were spotlessly clean. I think he was not a real mechanic. He may be working for Cronin. Perhaps, his prints will be found on the altered wheel or gloves. His credentials need to be accounted for in any case!”
“Jon, if we do a once over on your car, you’ll be safe to drive for Matt. He’ll be listening to radio coverage from his hospital room! Perhaps, Cronin will talk when we confront him in his cell or his ally here will reveal his role in exchange for some mercy!”
Jon nodded and they began to work while Tupper led away the sullen hired thug.
Hours later, Mysto nodded with approval as Jon Kent won the race on behalf of his old partner Matt Weston. The winnings would pay off Matt’s debts and allow him to marry Kim. Cronin, Lucille, and the fake mechanic would go to jail for their efforts to keep the team out of the race through murderous means and yet, Mysto would occasionally wonder about the mysterious stranger who first tipped him off to the danger. “I don’t know how that man in black knew about the peril or why he asked me to handle things but I’m glad he did. Jonathan Kent was a fine man!” he said.
***
He blinked and found himself once more within Madame Xanadu’s shop.
She said, “The cards enabled you to relive one of your early cases. You saved more than one life.”
Mysto said, “I know. That means a lot. It always has meant a lot. I suppose my stage magician ego just acted up earlier. I’d like my grandson to respect me like he does heroes like Batman and Superman.”
Madame Xanadu said, “The stranger who brought you to the track knew something that I am only able to tell you now. Jonathan Kent’s adopted son would grow up to be Superman! In saving Jon, you enabled the young and future Superman to benefit greatly from the wisdom his father would impart to you over the years. Perhaps, without Jon Kent, Superman would never have become the hero he is and we all would have suffered for that loss. In many ways, Superman’s every good deed could be seen as flowing from your own efforts to rescue his father!”
Mysto gasped and said, “Incredible! I can’t believe it! Still, I can’t tell anyone. I can’t risk exposing Superman’s private life! Can you remove this data from my mind with hypnosis?”
Madame Xandau smiled and said, “You are a remarkable man! You are worthy of respect and admiration. I will do as you ask but I will leave the feeling that you and all you did in your career were of great value!”
She watched as Mysto departed the shop after her work was done. He would not recall the details but he would not lose his sense of pride and accomplishment again.
She turned to see the black clad figure of the Phantom Stranger as he stepped out of the shadows.
“I knew Mysto’s efforts would be of importance when I led him to the track but I could not reveal the truth behind his actions since in those days it was even less of my nature to directly involve myself with others except as a guide or an inspiration.”
Madame Xanadu said, “But how did you know the future that was in store for Jonathan Kent and his son?”
The Stranger said, “In truth, I was guided by forces beyond my own kin. In truth, the danger to Jonathan Kent was mirrored by perils that plagued several other parents of future heroes. That evil originated in the present but was dealt with in the fifties by other men of mystery like Mysto, Roy Raymond, Captain Compass and others. Perhaps, someday the full story may be told but not by one who ever can only move through the life as a stranger!”
He vanished as Madame Xanadu picked up the cards on the table.
She looked at them and her expression changed but she said nothing.
