Read Online Masters of Illusions by Mary-Ann Tirone Smith - Free Book Online

said, “Pleased to meet you.” And Dixie said, “Likewise.” Then Martha
     said, wearing her longest face, “I have to go to school now” And so Dixie whipped out from her big bag an eight-by-ten glossy
     of herself wearing sequins and spangles, entwined in the trunk of an elephant rearing back on his hind legs. She signed it
     for Martha, and said to her, “You can show this to your little pals.”
    The preliminary excitement of having a person come to the O’Neills’ who was not only a celebrity—well, kind of a celebrity—but
     who also had been in and out of the burning tent while remaining in complete control was nothing compared to the tension that
     grew and grew as Dixie spoke. Dixie turned out to be Charlie’s first concrete evidence that there might have been a firebug.
     Concrete, yet flimsy, Margie thought. Though Margie was always willing to suspend her disbelief for Charlie just the way she
     did for John Le Carré, she was pretty cynical.
    Besides her success at posing in such a way as to dramatize Alfred Court’s feats, Dixie also proved to be equally competent
     in an emergency. In the first moments of the fire she was the one who got the last of the big cats through the chute and into
     their string of wagons lined up outside the tent before they could panic and run back to where they came from, as frightened
     animals are apt to do—as frightened humans are apt to do, too. Margie, married to a fireman, had learned that dead people
     in burning houses were always found in their closets or under their beds. Charlie came home on those nights and would head
     straight to the war room, where his circus arsonist represented all arsonists, represented negligent landlords, kids playing
     with matches, old people with twelve electric cords plugged into one outlet. Margie couldn’t console him on those nights,
     only his search could. If she tried, she would only end up feeling frustrated. And annoyed.
    Dixie said, “I had half the animals out when I looked up and saw it starting. Up above me. Up the side of the tent. I sped
     ’em along. I said, ‘Hurry, hurry, hurry you pretty boys and girls.’ I called ’em that.” She sighed and smiled. “My cats.”
     The smile dissolved. “So Vickie and her two babies were the last ones out. Found I had to hose the three of ’em down. Singed.”
    Charlie said, “And they were?”
    “Leopards. Took a month before their spots looked normal again. Wish I could have done more, mister. More than just that.”
    “You prevented a bigger catastrophe, ma’am.”
    “Dixie.”
    “Dixie.”
    She sighed again. “Don’t know about that. People get off thinking about what it’d been like if the animals were loose. Just
     would’ve been sadder is all. Cats would’ve slunk together in a huddle and burned. But what I do know is I was hosing down
     Vickie and her babies while the people up against the chute were dying. ’Course I know I shouldn’t feel as bad as I do—my
     little bitty hose couldn’t have done a thing for that tent. See, it was attached to the animals’ drinking tank. Couple of
     gallons is all.” She looked to Charlie.
    “I understand.”
    “But I still feel bad. Keep on thinking that if the act ended just a minute sooner, I’d have spotted that fire right when
     it started—maybe could’ve gotten it out.”
    “You couldn’t have,” Charlie said. “The canvas was coated with gasoline.”
    “I know” She pushed up the sleeve of her dress and there was a skin graft peeking out. “Anywho, I didn’t even think to hose
     myself down. Piece of canvas blew into me. Stuck right on to my shoulder.” She dropped the sleeve and patted the spot. She
     looked up, “The paraffin.”
    Charlie asked, “What did you do after you hosed down the leopards, Miss… ?”
    “I told ya, honey. Just Dixie.”
    “Sorry.”
    “S’okay. I went and stood by Gargantua. Knew he’d be upset. We had him over in his sideshow cage not too far from the