Chapter Nineteen
We reenter Julia’s Bureau, and both Kiyoko and Nirav try to make eye contact, checking that I’m okay. I am unused to this type of attention, so I simply ignore them. Ignoring feelings is healthy, is it not?
Pax removes the telegram from his pocket again.
“Our next recruits,” he says. I push in for a closer look.
Pax surprises me by smelling like soap and sawdust, but in my mind’s eye, the scent of vanilla—the too-sweet smell of oleander from just moments before—remains.
I spy the last few names on the list and begin reading them aloud:
“ ‘Mademoiselle Clarice DuBois.’ Marked through.”
Pax shakes his head. “No. Already asked and answered. Emphatically, in fact.”
“Well, she is a bit obvious,” I say. If there’s such a thing as a famous clairvoyant, it is Clarice DuBois. “I don’t trust fame.”
Pax’s eyes glimmer. “Ah, Stella and her trust issues.”
Ouch. That small sting makes me plow forward with the idea: “Clarice DuBois is definitely a yes. She’s already booked as one of the entertainers at the affair.”
Pax appears to see the reason in this. “I’ll reach out again. See if I can get us all an appointment. But fair warning: Clarice DuBois is a hellcat. If you get scratched, that’s on you.”
Kiyoko and I slide eyes at each other. I read the next name on the list:
“ ‘Edgar Cayce.’ ”
“He’s dead,” Kiyoko says.
It’s true. I am. Deader than a doorknob.
I chuckle before I realize that to these folks, it looks like I’m laughing in the face of death. I point to the next line. “And those fellows. The Davenport Brothers? They’re likely on tour. Their spirit cabinet is a big hit on the vaudeville circuit. They won’t leave that kind of fame for us.”
Pax grins wickedly. “It’s true I’m not as effective at recruiting the gentlemen as I am the ladies.” He directs an exaggerated wink at Kiyoko and me. These winks and chuckles: I realize he’s trying to lighten the mood after our heavy discussion.
Kiyoko ceases sweeping and smirks at him. “Don’t be an ass.” Her gift is taming beasts, and Pax looks sufficiently scolded.
I continue reading the last group of names: “ ‘Leah, Maggie, Kate, the Fox Sisters, stop.’ ” I spit out a laugh. “You can’t be serious. The Fox Sisters?”
“No,” Kiyoko says. She doesn’t look up from sweeping. “Not those women.”
Stop, indeed!
Not the Fox Sisters.
The Rochester Rappers. They are a NO.
I mean, this whole plan should be, but definitely
don’t pursue THEM.
“ ‘The raps heard round the world.’ ” I say. “That’s how they market themselves. They are nothing if not excellent hucksters.” Sisters, scamming together. Just as Daisy and I used to. My heart twists.
Pax looks stricken. “I feel an obligation to at least check them out.” He is loyal to the memory of his friend, William Stead. “They are the very foundation of the Spiritualism movement in the States. They’re on this list for a reason.”
“They shouldn’t be,” Kiyoko says. She tosses a dustpan full of dirt out the back door.
“We could use more hands.” Pax looks at the sagging ceiling, like he’s calculating something. How does one instinctively know how many hands are needed for a heist? “I’ll shoot them a telegram now.”
Early the next morning, Pax receives a two-word telegram in reply from the Fox Sisters: “SCREW YOU.” Those sisters paid thirty whole cents to give Pax the what-for. Kiyoko, Nirav, and I cackle for the next two hours.