The Trick, the Trade, and the Tale of Three Thieves

To the dreamers, to the daft, to the shrewd, and the hasty,

Welcome and thank you for coming to this magician’s final show!

This old man is weary and just a bit crazy,

But not yet too tired to give this magic thing one last go!

I know you may wonder, what will his final trick be?

Just how will this magic man delight and deceive?

Rather than bore you with scarves in old sleeves,

I’ve chosen to entice you with the tale of three thieves—

Detective Molly shifted her weight while leaning against the back wall of the auditorium. The arches of her feet moaned and complained, making it known to her that she had been too kind to the gentleman to whom she had given her seat. Ignoring their grievances, Molly scanned the silvery wisps and balding heads that peppered the room, catching sight of what had made the old magician pause.

She spotted a gangly fellow entering through the side doors, a pool of light briefly illuminating a group of nearby spectators. The man whipped his mustachioed face left and right, whispering Molly’s name and apologizing as irked audience members quickly hushed him. Attached to his wrist in handcuffs was one part of the problem they had solved earlier.

Molly waved her arms, grabbing Detective Skinner’s attention. Spotting her, he wordlessly passed by their superiors—Detectives Crane and Yu—and dodged near impalement by a grouchy spectator’s flailing cane.

“Did I miss anything?” he asked breathlessly.

She glanced at Detectives Crane and Yu, whose whispers sounded purposefully unquiet.

“By daft, I think the magician means our two idiots on the B-team,” Yu stated, “Couldn’t even bother booking ‘em without Crane and I, eh?” he remarked, referring to the apprehended.

Molly rolled her eyes, turning her attention to Skinner. “The magician just started.”

Gliding closer to the first row, the magician recaptured the audience’s attention, lifting a golden hat off his head and holding it before a member of the crowd, as if asking for change. Like the lining of a candy bar, his golden costume glittered magnificently under the stage lights.

This morning at the coffee shop,

Where many of you used to visit,

I sat alone with my little black book,

My cappuccino, and some biscuits.

I sat amongst the same three customers,

Who often complained of my eccentric demeanor.

And those three are here tonight,

Hungry to see me retire, yes, they’re so eager.

Though initially hesitant, members of the crowd clapped as the magician pulled out steaming coffees and amber cookies from his hat, offering them to members of the front row. The magician began his performance by recalling the day’s events, forcing Molly to relive how her day had collided with the magician’s.

***

Molly stood quietly with Detectives Skinner, Yu, and Crane at the coffee shop, leaning forward slightly to allow a curly-haired barista to pass behind her. She stared at the menu longingly, wondering which coffee would best lighten the weight of her eyelids.

The carrot-haired barista stared blankly at Skinner, who seemed unaware that his indecision had created a line.

“Hurry up, kids, I haven’t got all day,” barked Crane by the window, exchanging the empty coffee cup in his hands for a pair of sunglasses.

Skinner, quickly blurting out a request for a black tea, beckoned Molly forward just as the carrot-haired barista stepped away. Replaced by the curly-haired barista, Molly greeted her and reached for the wallet in her back pocket. The words “mocha with skim” wedged in her throat. She stared at the barista’s ringlets, patting and searching the pocket that normally housed her wallet. It was bare but for a useless penny.

“No wallet?” asked Skinner, exchanging a nervous look between the penny and the barista, whose expressions mirrored one another.

Molly bit her lip, “Damnit, I might have left it in the car—”

Skinner turned to the barista, handing over his card again. “I can cover. Mocha with skim, please.”

“Thank you,” muttered Molly, dropping the penny into the shop’s tip jar. “I’ll treat you to the next one.”

Skinner snorted, staring at the lone penny in the vase. “Obviously. If we hold them up any longer, I think they’ll make us do desk work again,” he whispered, sneaking a peek at their superiors. Though Crane’s bulging eyes hid under the cloak of tinted glasses, his lips remained tightly pursed as if an enemy had snuck salt into his coffee.

Collecting their drinks, Molly and Skinner stepped past a petite woman knitting and followed Yu and Crane to the exit. Just as Yu opened the door, the ring of the door’s shrill bell became enveloped by a deafening shout.

The four detectives swung around. They watched an old man in a gleaming golden suit madly flail his arms about, wailing. Yet none in the shop appeared to have taken notice.

“It’s just that old bat of a magician trying to lure a crowd again,” huffed Detective Yu, “I hear he does this every week. Don’t waste your time,” he said, leaving the shop after Crane.

Skinner hesitated and looked to Molly. She stood immobilized, watching the golden man frantically scan his table and belongings, only finding panic in the folds of his face.

***

I shouted and hollered, “The secrets to my tricks!

They’re in my small black notebook, I think it’s been nicked!

I need it for my show, the finale of my career,

You may think that I’m crazy, but I swear it was here!”

The coattails of the magician’s jacket trailed behind him as he jogged across the stage, his hat flying off his head and landing on the floorboards. The crowd’s giggles developed into gasps as doves began to rocket out of the fallen hat. The white blur of feathers chased him as he projected his next lines mid-pursuit:

I looked all around me, hoping a kind stranger would lend a helping hand,

I looked to the three customers, who wouldn’t even pay me a glance.

I watched two detectives detect nothing and leave,

I stood all alone, my art gone with a thief.

I broke down and sobbed, I fell to my knees,

My writings, my drawings, all stolen for free!

But in the middle of heartbreak, I finally found,

The good soul I needed and whose kindness abounds.

Molly’s cheeks warmed as the magician scooped up his hat, turned around, and caught the doves by surprise. The birds zoomed into his hat like a train into a tunnel. The audience held its breath as they waited for the white blurs to burst through the fabric’s other end, but none did.

The magician violently shook his hat, demonstrating its emptiness to the crowd. He then flung the hat in the air, letting the gold kiss the velvet curtains before catching it behind his back. Applause erupted from the crowd briefly before he motioned for quiet.

Slowly, the magician began to wring his hat like a wet towel until milk oozed from its crevices. He grinned as some members of the crowd shrieked, wondering how he had liquified the doves.

A lady detective walked over to me,

She asked me how long it had been since I’d seen,

My little black notebook, if I gave it a guess?

I told her five minutes, no more and no less.

She looked to her partner, who stood by the door,

Told him to standby, she could solve this for sure.

Her partner closed shop, let none come or leave,

“If the suspects are here, then so is the thief.”

The lady detective gathered all in the space—

Even the baristas who looked glad for a break.

She looked at the suspicious three suspects before her:

The knitter, a student, and good ol’ man Parker.

She spoke to the knitter, who stared at her fabrics,

Asked, “Do you hate the magician? And all of his antics?”

The knitter said, “Yes, he’s a nuisance and yaps like my mother,

but I make art myself, I would never steal another’s.”

She turned to the student, who folded his arms,

He gave her a smirk and turned on his charm,

“He’s a nutcase, but trust me I’ve got all the books I need.

And when he acts strange, I just get up and leave.”

She turned to ol’ Parker, who raised a gray brow,

Said, “I’m an old soul, his secrets mean nothing to me now!

I come to this shop ‘cause they keep it so clean,

And he’s only a small trouble in my daily routine.”

The magician paused as the audience murmured names, claiming which of the three they believed had stolen the little black notebook. Just before the crowd became unruly, the magician raised a finger, motioning the lights to come on.

“If you haven’t figured out who was the thief, I believe my next little poem should help,” he teased, realigning his hat on his head.

The lady detective looked around and said with a smile,

“These three wouldn’t steal something that wasn’t worth their while,

It’s the baristas who took the thing that you desire,

To scare you off and bring back the customers they require!

Just as the crowd exclaimed in realization, the magician raised a hand over his eyes, searching the back for Molly and Skinner. He beckoned them forward as their gazes connected. The two young detectives passed by the stunned statues of Crane and Yu, sauntering down the aisles with the carrot and curly-haired baristas in tow.

The magician smiled as he beckoned the auditorium lights back off, turning to the baristas handcuffed to the detectives.

“You two, anything to say for yourselves?” he said, tapping his foot.

The baristas exchanged looks and grinned:

We say hello again, Mr. Magician,

There’s little to discuss,

We’re not guilty of robbery,

Only guilty of doing what you asked of us!

The magician’s eyes crinkled as he threw his head back. With a nod and snap of his wrinkly fingers, their handcuffs collapsed to the ground.

Molly and Skinner’s eyes went wide to the tune of the audience’s gasps. As both young detectives’ heads whipped left and right for their suspects, their panic rose: the baristas had vanished.

Before Molly could protest, the magician bent down to where the female barista had stood and lifted a wallet that had appeared in her place.

“Wait—that’s my wallet!” Molly protested. The magician held the wallet away from her reach, lifting his other hand to request patience.

When I rallied my thieves to dream up this illusion,

They asked how would I bring my career to a conclusion?

I said I wanted to show what was rarely given to me,

I wanted to show the best magic I’ve received.

I hope all of you remember that even the oddest of our kind,

Are not odd at all, deserve kindness and our time,

And for your kindness today, Molly, I trade you to give,

My treasure with a reward where your wallet once lived.

The magician chuckled as Molly shimmied to check the back pockets of her pants. Finding nothing, she glanced up to catch the magician drop her wallet into his golden hat, reaching deep inside to pull out a little black notebook instead. He held it out to her.

Before she could mutter a thank you, he snapped his fingers and vanished.

In the moments where the audience finally recognized the magician as the third thief, Molly solved the answer to the magician’s riddle. Undoing the notebook’s band, she flipped to its back cover, cracked open its back pocket, and pulled out a piece of paper folded and wedged inside.

Reading its contents, her mouth dropped: a check in her name for $20,000.

Before it too could disappear, she shoved the check back into the notebook and bolted off the stage, screaming of joy. Her feet no longer complained, instead feverishly dancing to the beat of the audience’s final applause.