by Debra Snow
Then again, Shaut had hinted that Mystique was gay. Did that suggest a man was the one to tempt him into his bedroom? The ME report and forensics didn’t say the body had been moved, but it wasn’t outside the realm of possibility.
She had an overwhelming desire to burst back into the room and twist Miss Gray’s arm until she told her everything. She took several deep breaths to calm down. Adrianna wasn’t going anywhere.
Pro would make sure of it.
She continued to the last dressing room, which had three guys all dressed in suit jackets, two had ties. There were also three cases similar to Shaut’s on their makeup ledge.
“Well, hello,” a forty-something man with a receding hairline, pencil mustache, and a bit of a gut said as she entered. “I hope you’re a groupie.”
“No, I’m NYPD,” she said and flashed her shield. “And you need better come-on lines. Who are you guys?”
A thin man in his twenties spoke up. “We’re the close-up performers. We go on during intermission.”
“Yes, I’m Tony Chiano,” the third man said as he did a rather nice waterfall shuffle, the cards flowing effortlessly from one hand to the other in a beautiful flow.
“And how did you gentlemen get into the theatre?” she demanded, looking from man to man.
“Side door in the audience,” Tony answered.
“Yeah, but if we’re late,” pencil mustache answered, “there’s a door at the end of this hall.”
“Thank you,” Pro said. “Break a wand.”
Pro heard Tony ask, “How did she know that expression?” as she went out.
She went to the end of the hall, and just as “pencil mustache” had described, there was a black painted door she hadn’t seen until she drew near it. It had a crash bar, and she checked to make sure it was secured. She realized the door could only be opened by someone on the inside.
She returned to Dressing Room One and peeked in. “Everything all right, Mister Shaut?”
He was dressed in a formal shirt and black pants with suspenders. He glanced to the door. “Everything’s fine. Did you see if the guys working intermission are here?”
“Yeah, they’re all in Dressing Room Three,” Pro answered. “You have magicians doing close-up during the intermission?”
“Yeah, it’s what makes our show unique. Magic from beginning to end. We’ve become a New York institution.” He then paused and looked at Pro for a moment, then blurted, “But who wants to live in an institution?” He then hooted at his own joke with a big, boisterous laugh. “Sorry,” he said as he calmed down, “that’s a joke I use in my show.”
Pro nodded, now concerned that the entire evening would be filled with sophomoric humor.
“You might as well go out front. No one can get in here without Selly knowing it,” Shaut said, and pulled a bow tie from the pocket of his hanging tuxedo.
“We are talking about a man who can pick any lock, and there is a door at the end of the hall. Are you sure you’re safe?”
“The door on this side of the building doesn’t have a place to put a key—nothing to pick!” he replied. “The door we came in is the only door you use a key besides the theater front door, and we don’t open those until we let in the audience.”
“Couldn’t Max sneak in with the audience?” Pro suggested.
Shaut chuckled. “That’s sounds like something Max would do. But be careful. Your dad is a master of disguise. You might not recognize him.”
“I see,” Pro considered the suggestion. “By the way, after the show I am arresting Miss Adrianna Gray, aka Adrian Novack. It turns out she was harboring Max.”
“What?” Shaut bellowed. “Damn, must have used that room she has hidden behind the bookcase.” He shook his head. “If it weren’t too late, I’d throw her out of the show and let you arrest her right now.”
“I was tempted, sir, but protecting you is my first priority.”
“That’s the problem with that broad: her brains are in her tits.”
Pro frowned. “Sir, I don’t find that helpful—or appropriate.”
“Sorry,” he prattled. “Just sometimes, I don’t know what she’s thinking. You have every right to arrest her, but she is the first act closer. I would consider it a favor if you could wait until the end.”
“I can’t leave without you, sir.”
“I want to tell you how much I appreciate you watching out for me, detective.”
“All part of the job,” Pro confirmed, and stepped out into the hall as she closed the door.
She leaned against the door for a minute. It might be worth losing her job if she could get away from these insane performers.
The early years of her life had been so chaotic, and all due to the fact that her father was an entertainer. It was always about the show, the last show, the next show, the show in a week. She realized that the people her father associated with were just like the people in these dressing rooms now. Self-absorbed, loud, pushy; was it performers in general or just magicians?
Pro heard footsteps and relaxed as Tom Chu walked into the dressing room area.
“You okay, Pro?” he asked with lifted eyebrows.
“I am now that my partner is here,” she said. “Shaut suggested that Max might skulk in with the audience. I want to go watch, see if I spot him.”
Chu frowned. “You really think he’ll come here?”
“I don’t know what he’ll do, Tom. But after his visit to the workshop and the sign that said, ‘Murderer,’ I think he’s fixated on Malcolm Shaut.”
“I’ll keep an eye back here, if you want to go examine the crowd.”
“Thanks, Tom,” Pro said and took a step up, then turned. “Oh, and it turns out Miss Adrianna Gray was hiding Max in some secret room when we were there.”
“What?”
“I told her we are bringing her in for questioning after the show. I wouldn’t mind sticking her surgically-perfected rump in a cell for a few hours.”
Chu smiled. “I think that can be arranged.”
19. The Hanged Man
Pro stood in the lobby of the theater as the doors were opened at 7:30 to let in the audience for the 8:00 show.
She stood on the top of the stairs and watched the people walk in as the stage crew did double duty as ticket takers. She also saw a few people go to the small window of the box office to claim and pay for tickets.
She kept her eyes moving through the crowd, watchful for someone the height of her father. But her eye was caught by the bare-headed black man as he walked in.
Luther gave her a glance and a smile that made her knees go weak. Pro shook her head, annoyed that she felt like a school girl again. She was in her late twenties, and developing a crush was not a way to create a lasting, adult relationship.
She knew that from her last romance.
She walked down the short flight of stairs, trying to control the goofy grin on her face. “Hello there. You made it.”
“That I did.” He smiled broadly. “You look great for a lady still at work.”
“Let me make sure they got you,” she said, and the pair of them joined the line at the box office. Pro still watched the people as they entered and made their way up the stairs into the theater.
Luther was about six-two, and with Pro being five-eleven, he bent only slightly and whispered in her ear, “Who are you looking for?”
“Is it that obvious?” she answered, eyes still on the crowd.
“To me it is,” Luther murmured. “And don’t worry, I know you’re on duty.”
“I promise I’ll sit with you during the show.”
“That’s all I need,” he smiled. “But if you can give me a rough idea of who you’re looking for…”
“Fine,” Pro said. “White, male, about six-two, tall, thin, probably wearing a disguise…”
“You mean like him?” Luther said and gave a nod of his head toward the stairs.
Pro had only glanced away to talk to Luther, but turned to see a tall fi
gure with a hat, heavy glasses, a big nose, and a long beard.
“Gotta go,” Pro said and pushed away from Luther and into the crowd. The tall man had just given his ticket to one of the women from the stage crew, who tore it in two and gave him back one half.
“Ticket?” the crew member asked Pro.
Pro stopped and flashed her billfold and spoke in low tones. “I’m part of the team protecting Mister Shaut. I gotta see the man who just went in—”
That said, she pushed past the befuddled usher and headed down the aisle. She noticed that on the stage, they had closed an outer curtain, which hid the logo in the light box from prying eyes as they readied the show.
But she fixated on the man. She looked him over up and down. Yes, the body type was correct. The man was Max’s height and build. She couldn’t believe her father would try such an old trick as a hat, beard, and a fake nose.
The man sat right at the aisle, and Pro went down on one knee next to him. She grabbed his beard and gave it a tug. “You gotta lotta nerve showing up here!”
“Ow!” the man said as he turned to face Pro. With a start, Pro let go of the beard that was still quite attached to its owner. The man’s brown eyes looked her over in shock. “Do I know you, miss?”
This close, Pro could see that the beard was actually quite real, as was the large nose.
“Geez, I’m sorry,” Pro said and got to her feet, embarrassed. “I mistook you for someone else.”
He rubbed his whiskers. “It’s nice a lady like you mistook me, but please be gentle next time.”
“Sorry,” Pro murmured and turned away. People were coming down the aisle to get to their seats, and she perceived what a salmon going upstream must experience as she attempted to return to the lobby.
She finally got out to see Luther step away from the box office, his ticket aloft. He approached her in two quick steps. “Was that your suspect?”
“False alarm. I pulled the beard of a guy I didn’t know.”
Luther smiled. “Why, Detective Thompson, I had no idea you were so forward.”
Pro grinned in spite of herself and relaxed a little. “Oh, you have no idea how forward I can be.”
“I can’t wait to find out,” he approved. “I also asked for your ticket and you were correct, you’re right next to me.” He handed her the small cardboard card.
“Let me text my partner, and I’ll join you right before the show starts.”
“If you need help subduing anyone, I do have experience,” Luther assured her.
She looked at his strong arms and wide chest. “Oh, I have no doubt of that. Thanks, Luther.”
“Anytime, Pro,” he said and headed up into the theater.
She stepped outside and watched for any stragglers. She pulled out her phone and instead of a text hit the button to phone her partner.
“Chu.”
“It’s Pro. Anything amiss?”
“Not here. I assume you checked backstage when you arrived?”
“Not much to see. Just the dressing rooms and the bathrooms on the second floor.”
“Aren’t there more dressing rooms up there?”
“Yes, but the lights were out. I figured no one was there.”
“Okay, good to know.”
“I’ll keep a lookout here. I have that security guard, Luther, out here as backup.”
“From the size of him, I think you’re in safe hands. Seems like you two hit it off.”
“So far. Been a long time since I dated, so I hope I still can read the signs.”
“From the way he looks at you every time you’re near, I wouldn’t worry.”
“What?”
“The entire time we were at Mystique’s place, he was staring at you like a lovestruck puppy.”
“Thanks for that. Later, partner,” Pro said as she hung up the phone. So, Luther was mooning over her all the while she was looking at him like he was the last lollipop on earth. Not a bad way to start a relationship.
Not a bad way at all.
She went inside the lobby, up the stairs, and took one last look around the theater, just as the lights began to dim. She quickly sat in the aisle seat next to Luther.
“I figured you wanted to be on the aisle,” he murmured. Pro was amazed that even talking quietly he could sound so damn sexy.
“Yeah, thanks,” Pro whispered.
Music began playing, an upbeat version of “That Old Black Magic.” A voice announced over the sound system. “Welcome to A Night of Wonder, and here is your host for this evening, Malcolm Shaut!”
The music shifted into a triumphant blaring of horns and Shaut came through the closed curtain, resplendent in his tuxedo. Pro had to admit, he was much more impressive on stage than he was in real life.
“Good evening, and welcome to the show. I am happy to announce that as of this week, A Night of Wonder has broken the record for the longest running magic show in New York City!”
This received applause from the audience, and Shaut waited until it subsided.
“The record we broke was set by us at our last show,” he said, which got groans from the crowd. “But all kidding aside, we have been running continuously in New York City for twenty-five years.”
Another round of applause filled the room.
“I was fifteen when I started this show,” Shaut kidded. “But seriously, we have some of the best magical talent from around the world, and I want to introduce you to our first act. Opening for us tonight is an act that always delivers. How about a hand for Brent the Great!”
The curtain opened and Shaut stepped to the wings. There was a small table held up by a black metal stand center stage, which bore a three-tiered candelabrum. Music began to play, Brent came out in a red velvet suit jacket, red tie with formal pants, and a wing-tip collar shirt. The crowd applauded as Brent acknowledged them.
Pro frowned for a minute. Where had he been backstage?
As music played, Brent pulled a candle from the holder, and with a gesture, it seemed to melt and become a white silk handkerchief, which Brent put into his front jacket pocket.
He picked up the second candle pulled, the silk from his pocket to cover it, and it vanished. When he opened the handkerchief, a series of folded silks began to bloom in the center of the white silk. More and more unfolded, until he held an impossible amount of different colored silks in his hand. Finally, as the last silk unwound, a small rubber ball was in the center.
He picked up the ball and set the silks on top of his table. He bounced it once, twice, and then threw it into the air, and it was gone. The audience applauded. Brent took the final candle and seemed to press down on the top of it. It began to shrink until all he held in his hand was the small, white rubber ball he had vanished moments earlier.
“This guy’s pretty good,” Luther whispered to Pro. She nodded. She was surprised, even though Brent had talked about doing his own act, she didn’t expect his skills and routining to be so strong.
He took the small ball and bounced it, and all at once there was two. With the flip of his hand there were three. He reached up and pulled a fourth ball out of the air. When he turned back to the audience he had white rubber balls between the fingers of both hands, eight in total. The music stopped as he put the balls away behind his table.
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” Brent said in a powerful voice, so unlike the whiny one he used most of the time. “I want to share with you an effect of my own creation that I have been working on for a long time. I will need someone willing to select a card.”
A man raised his hand in the front row, and Brent asked him up on stage. He quickly had the man select a card and sign it with a permanent marker that appeared at Brent’s fingertips.
Brent had the man return it to the deck, and after a series of clever shuffles, handed the volunteer cards and asked him to locate his selection. As the man searched the deck, Brent pulled out a clear plastic bag with slips of paper in it.
“It’s not here,” th
e volunteer explained, and Brent nodded in agreement.
“How surprising! Now, in this bag I have all the numbers of the audience seats here tonight—literally hundreds.” He opened the bag and let the man look and pull several out, and he noted they were all different. The man put the slips back in the clear bag, and Brent shook it up to mix the papers.
“Focus your mind, and reach in and select only one,” Brent said. The volunteer reached in and held one slip aloft. “Read it!”
“Seat C10,” the man said.
“The person in C10, please stand,” Brent said as a woman stood up shyly. “Would you reach under your seat and see if anything is there?”
The woman folded up her seat and retrieved a white envelope from the bottom of it.
“Would you bring it to me, please?” Brent coaxed.
She brought it to the stage, where Brent took it, thanked her, and asked her to return to her seat. Brent ripped an end completely off and asked this volunteer to hold out his hands. He hit the envelope, and a card fell into the audience member’s open palm. The assistant looked at it and smiled, then held the signed card up for all to see as the audience went wild.
“Thank you. You may keep that as a souvenir,” Brent said as the man returned to his seat. “I have one more effect I want to share with you—”
There was a pop like a small explosion, and Pro found her hand went to her service weapon. One of the lights in the illuminated sign hanging from the backdrop must have blown as the remaining lights flickered. She relaxed and took her hand out of her jacket.
Brent looked back to the crowd. “Nothing important, folks, just a—”
He stopped as the audience was “oohing” and “aahing.” He turned back to the sign as a line began to appear over the logo in what looked like fresh blood. Then, suddenly, the lines linked together to form a word: Murderer. The blood began to drip onto the floor as it flowed out of the sign.
