The Magician's Secret

by Carolyn Keene

  “What do we do next?” George asked me.

  “I don’t—,” I started.

  “You two are so loud!” Bess stomped into the bathroom. “I’ll tell you what we do next. John Smallwood was staying at a hotel for the week, right? The Drake Lonestar magic show team has been here a week too. They’re also at a hotel. That might be a place to start searching for connections.”

  George’s face lit up. “You’re right! There aren’t that many hotels in town. It’s possible they’re staying in the same place.”

  So we weren’t going to figure out how Drake Lonestar made the courthouse disappear, and we weren’t going to figure out how the box vanished from the evidence locker, but we were back on track with my initial burning question: Was Smallwood in any way connected to Lonestar?

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Connecting the Dots

  IT WAS STILL DARK, BUT the sun was slowly rising when Bess, George, and I piled into my car.

  “I want the last doughnut,” Bess complained from the backseat.

  “No way,” George countered. “You already had two.”

  It had been my idea to quickly stop for coffee and doughnuts at the all-night diner. Thing was, I only wanted one glazed, and the employee insisted that a half dozen was cheaper. I shouldn’t have given in to the pressure. Or else, I should have just eaten the last one and prevented this whole heated discussion.

  “Going to check hotel registers was my idea,” Bess said. “That should be enough for extra chocolate cream privileges.”

  “I was up all night learning about magicians,” George said. “That should be my ticket to the treat.”

  “I was up too,” Bess argued. “Because you’re so noisy!”

  They kept at it until we reached the nicest hotel in town, the Towering Heights Resort. I’d texted Ned to find out where Smallwood had been staying. This was it. I pulled into a parking spot.

  Now, to see who else might have stayed there.

  It only took a minute to find out that the magician and his crew weren’t registered.

  “Rats,” I muttered as we drove to the second-nicest hotel in town. Then the third. And fourth.

  The sun was high in the sky when we reached the last option on our list: a low-budget hotel on the outskirts of town. It was called the Riverview, though it was so far from the river there was no way the name was true. The Highway Traffic View Hotel just didn’t sound as nice, I supposed.

  It was my turn to run in and ask the front desk about our missing magician.

  “Nancy? What are you doing here?”

  I whirled around to find Hugo sitting at a small table in the lobby, reading the newspaper and drinking a cup of coffee from the local River Run Coffee Shop.

  “I—” I wasn’t sure what to tell Hugo. After all, he worked for Lonestar. What would he do to protect his boss from going to jail?

  “We’re supposed to start tearing down the set today, but the police still can’t find Drake,” Hugo told me.

  “I assumed he’d be here at the hotel with you,” I said, watching as Hugo swirled the coffee in his cup.

  “He was. But now he’s not,” Hugo said. “Celebrity admirers can get really aggressive when they want to meet their idol,” he explained. “The first night we were here, a man climbed in through Drake’s hotel window. I had to chase the guy down the street. Drake always registers at hotels under phony names to avoid fans, but this one was more persistent than most and followed us back after rehearsal.”

  Hmm . . . So he might have been staying under a different name at one of the hotels we’d already visited.

  “So where is Drake now?” I asked.

  “I don’t know,” Hugo said, staring past my left shoulder.

  I turned and saw Ayela and Ariana entering the lobby. As they got in line for the vending machine, they waved at Hugo, who grinned back.

  He turned back to me. “Drake moved after that first night. He changed hotels, picked a fake name to register under, and got himself to rehearsals.”

  “But you’re his bodyguard! You let him do that without protection?” I asked.

  “The truly devoted fans know me by now; a lot of them follow me if they think I’m with him, so we often separate. He goes off the grid. No e-mail. No cell phones. It’s not a big deal. Drake knows to meet me at the train station on Tuesday.”

  “That’s when you’re leaving?” I asked. “Two days from now?”

  “Magic is really draining, so Drake likes a few days of rest before traveling to the next show,” Hugo said. “But like I told Officer Fernandez, I fully expect that he’ll be at the train station Tuesday.”

  “Hugo!” Ariana and Ayela ran toward us.

  “Nancy!” Bess and George called my name as they entered the hotel.

  “The radio!” they cried at the same time as Ariana and Ayela yelled, “The radio!” Apparently the four of them had been listening to the same station.

  Hugo and I rushed to the closest TV set, in the hotel bar. A handcuffed Drake Lonestar was on the screen, flanked by Officer Fernandez on his left and Officer Collins on his right.

  Beyond them were screaming fans, desperate to get a glimpse of the magician. There were countless women carrying signs that said I LOVE YOU and MARRY ME! A guy was standing on the courthouse steps selling Drake Lonestar T-shirts. The crowd was chanting his name.

  Even with all the chaos surrounding him, we clearly could hear Drake shout, “I’d rather spend a lifetime in prison than reveal how my magic is done!”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Jail Time

  I’D NEVER DRIVEN SO FAST in my life.

  When Bess, George, and I arrived at the courthouse, Drake Lonestar was already inside—getting booked, I presumed, but I hadn’t a clue under what charge.

  The courthouse was usually closed on Sunday, just like Saturday, but today, like yesterday, it was bustling.

  Reporters were milling around, waiting for a story. My dad was off to the side with Ned. Even at a distance, I could see that Ned’s hair was standing up and his suit, the same one he’d worn the day before, was rumpled. He’d clearly been working all night.

  Hugo, with Gritty Grand’s nieces in tow, pulled his rental car into the space next to mine, and all six of us ran across the parking lot together. I raced up to Ned.

  “I wondered when you’d show up,” he said, kissing me hello on the cheek. “News travels fast in River Heights.”

  “I saw the arrest on TV.”

  He nodded. “But the news only reported that Lonestar was picked up. An hour ago John Smallwood was also brought in for questioning again.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  Ned opened his mouth, when my dad cut in. “Tell her everything,” my father told Ned. “Every detail.” He looked at me. “We need your big brain on this one,” he said.

  “Big brain?” I laughed. “A genetic mutation from your side of the family, I believe.”

  “And a good thing, too. Now put that mass of gray matter to use and figure out what is going on, okay?” My dad gave me a kiss on the top of my head.

  “I’ll try my best,” I told him, then returned my gaze to Ned.

  “The police finally found Drake Lonestar. Turns out that unlike you or me, he needs a lot of sleep,” Ned said. “He was in bed in his hotel room.”

  “Performing magic is exhausting,” I repeated what Hugo had told me earlier.

  “Right.” Ned rolled his eyes as if Drake was simply a prima donna who had no idea about real work. “Anyway, the officers discovered that not only was the magician staying in the same hotel as Smallwood, but the two men had rooms across the hall from each other.”

  I lurched forward in surprise when Ned quickly added, “Apparently the magician was initially put into the same room as Smallwood, but that was a mistake.” He shook his head. “When Drake walked in, Smallwood was in the shower. The hotel cleared it up, putting Drake in the room across the hall.”

  “Shower? That must have been awkward.”
I chuckled at the thought of walking into a hotel room that was already occupied. “So they had a moment where their paths crossed, but that doesn’t prove they knew each other or that Lonestar was involved in the gem theft,” I said, furrowing my brow. “Did Lonestar have the missing box or the jewels?”

  “No,” Ned admitted.

  I’d seen Lonestar in handcuffs. “What are the charges against him?”

  “He’s under investigation for the jewel theft. The police are focusing on the Lonestar and Smallwood connection.” Ned added, “That’s why Smallwood is being questioned again.”

  “Under investigation,” I echoed Ned’s words. “Lonestar shouldn’t have been arrested, then. Escorted to court, yes, but no handcuffs.”

  “I’ve got this one.” I turned to see Officer Fernandez approach. “Lonestar was arrested for disorderly conduct.”

  I raised my eyebrows. That was unexpected.

  “When we showed up, we insisted on knowing how the courthouse disappeared. We figured that if we understood how the trick was done, we could determine how Lonestar managed to break into the evidence locker and steal the box. Instead of answering our questions, Lonestar went crazy and started throwing things around the room.”

  “He should have known better,” I said, wrinkling my brow.

  “He doesn’t like to be questioned about the magic. We’re all clear on that now.” She continued, “The police chief believes that Smallwood was working with Lonestar. The theory is that Smallwood stole the gems and put them in the box. He was supposed to give the box to Lonestar. But when Smallwood was arrested and all his belongings were collected by the police, Lonestar panicked. He used his magic to snag the box, and thus, stole the gems for himself.” Officer Fernandez’s cell phone beeped. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to take this.” She moved away.

  “All this is based on the fact that Drake Lonestar had a room in the hotel across the hall from John Smallwood?” I muttered to myself. The police seemed to be guessing—creating a story about events that they couldn’t prove. I knew it. Officer Fernandez knew it. And my dad knew it.

  I asked Ned if anyone had found anything suspicious at the hotel.

  “No witnesses,” he told me. “No box. No gems. Nothing out of place. Even with the disorderly conduct charge, the police are going to have to let Lonestar go soon. They might not let him leave town for a while, but they can’t keep here very long.”

  “This case is getting more and more complicated,” I told Ned. “Every time I think we’re onto something meaningful, it dissolves into nothing.” I bit my lip in frustration.

  “I’ll find out if Lonestar has said anything relevant to the police,” Ned told me.

  “My guess is he didn’t,” I said.

  “My guess is you’re right,” Ned replied.

  He left me standing on the courthouse steps, shaking my head and wondering what to do next.

  “Nancy, come sit with me.” Hugo was resting on a bench just outside the courthouse, staring out toward the empty space where the magic show stage had been the day before. “We can wait to hear what’s going on together. It’ll be better than waiting alone.”

  Hugo was so devoted to Drake Lonestar, my admiration for him was growing. Their friendship reminded me of mine with Bess and George. I decided to stay with him until either Ned and my dad came out, Drake was released, or I saw Smallwood.

  Bess and George made their way over to us. There was nothing to do but sit there and see if Lonestar would be released.

  “Looks like you might not make your train Tuesday,” I told Hugo.

  “I know.” He sighed. “But I’m not canceling the next show until it’s absolutely certain that we can’t get there in time. The show isn’t for a week after we arrive, so we might be able to pull it off. Maybe I’ll go ahead without Drake. I can set things up and wait for him there.” He glanced at the courthouse. “We’ll see.”

  We sat on that bench waiting for an hour. Then two. At the end of the third hour, Bess was done reorganizing her purse and George had maxed out the data minutes on her smartphone. I’d slept a bit on a nearby patch of grass to make up for the night before, but the truth was we were bored.

  Even though it wasn’t her job, Officer Fernandez had been bringing us periodic updates and snacks. This time she had bottles of water and granola bars. She was about to leave when Hugo asked, “Want to see some magic?”

  Bess brightened. “Sure.”

  We all gathered around as I shook off the last bit of my sleepiness with a big yawn.

  “Can I borrow your handcuffs?” he asked Officer Fernandez. By now we’d spent so much time together that we knew her first name was Faith, that she drove a convertible, and that she lived across the street from her elderly parents.

  The officer put a hand on the silver metal cuffs that hung off her police belt. “I don’t think it’s a good idea. . . .”

  “Just for a minute,” Hugo said. “I promise they’ll be returned to you.”

  She glanced at the courthouse doors, then to the street. No one was around except for us and a small band of reporters a block away. She pinched her lips together for a short pause before handing Hugo the cuffs.

  He passed them to me. “Nancy, check these out. Confirm they are real. I want you to make sure the lock isn’t broken and that there aren’t any hidden release buttons.”

  I examined the cuffs and didn’t find anything strange.

  “Faith,” Hugo asked Officer Fernandez, “did I borrow these earlier? Have they been in your possession at all times? Is there any way I might have tampered with them?”

  She shook her head. “No to all those questions. I’ve had them the whole day.”

  “Put them on me,” he told her.

  I handed the cuffs back to the officer. She slipped them around Hugo’s outstretched hands and locked them tight.

  “Where is the key?” Hugo asked, then laughed. “I probably should have asked that before I had you put them on my wrists.” He jingled the chain now connecting his wrists together as Officer Fernandez held up a ring of keys.

  I had to admit, he was a good showman. I just hoped the trick lived up to his jokes.

  “Bess,” Hugo asked, “can I use the scarf that’s in your purse?”

  “Wow!” Bess exclaimed. “How’d you know I had a scarf  ?”

  Hugo rolled his eyes.

  “It doesn’t take a psychic to know that,” I told Bess gently. “We all just watched you clean out your bag.”

  Bess smiled sheepishly. “Oh, yeah.” She reached into her purse and gave Hugo a boldly patterned blue scarf.

  “Toss it over my hands,” Hugo said, making a scene about how he couldn’t possibly do it by himself since he was wearing cuffs.

  Bess covered his hands and the handcuffs.

  “Do you have a favorite magic word?” Hugo asked me.

  “Abracadabra,” I answered.

  “Right. Now, Nancy, wave your hands over the scarf and say your magic word.”

  I did as he told me.

  “Ta-da!” An instant later Bess’s scarf floated to the ground. Hugo picked it up with his free hands. The locks on the cuffs were both open. He gave the handcuffs back to Officer Fernandez and told her to examine them again.

  “Well done,” she told him. “Remind me not to arrest you.”

  “How’d you do it?” George asked. I could see the wheels in her brain turning. “Are you double-jointed? Did you put grease on your hands to slip them out? Did you pickpocket the officer’s key?”

  At that Officer Fernandez checked her key ring. She still had the key.

  “It’s magic,” Hugo said with a chuckle.

  “So, you’re not just the show’s manager and a security guard . . . you’re a magician, too?” I asked.

  “Not like Drake.” Hugo shrugged. “Drake’s art is entirely based on distraction and misdirection.”

  “Distraction and misdirection,” I repeated. “That’s magic based on illusion.” I was
glad that George had taught me about magicians.

  Hugo nodded, then went on, “I wanted to be like him at first, but I couldn’t figure out how to attract a crowd. I tried doing street shows for a while but never made more than a few bucks and a bus token.” He gave Bess her scarf. “All I ever wanted was to be involved in magic. So when the chance came to work for Drake Lonestar, I jumped at it. I tied my dreams to Drake’s, and he’s done well for us both.”

  “What about your own dreams?” Bess asked. “After all, that was a really good trick. People would totally pay to see you perform.”

  “It’s too expensive to start: renting venues, travel, advertising, plus the tricks have to get bolder and fancier every year,” Hugo said. “I’m happy working for Drake.” Hugo stared down at his hands. I could see a faint red line around each wrist where the cuffs had bitten into his skin. I had to admit I had no idea how he’d done it.

  Hugo shook out his hands, looked up at the courthouse door, and let loose a long sigh. “I don’t know what I’ll do if they don’t free him soon.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Careful Considerations

  BY DINNERTIME I WAS BACK home with Ned, John Smallwood, who had been released into my father’s custody, and my dad. He couldn’t go back to his hotel room anyway, due to all the press gathered in the hallway.

  Drake Lonestar was also stuck in River Heights for a few more days. Officer Fernandez had arranged for him to be released to Hugo. The bodyguard was still hopeful they’d be on the Tuesday train out of River Heights, but it didn’t look good.

  After the day’s grueling events—not to mention a sleepless night before—I think we were all ready for a hot meal. Our housekeeper, Hannah Gruen, had just served her famous lasagna when the front door burst open.

  “Nancy!” Bess shouted from the front hallway.

  “Wait until you see—,” George was saying as the two of them rushed up to the table. She stopped short. “Oh . . . is that lasagna?” Whatever she had been about to say was completely lost to the delicious scent of Hannah’s dinner.