by John Gaspard
“Whatever.”
“So,” Deirdre said, clearly frustrated, “how did you get the cards from her hands to his hands?”
I smiled. “With an invisible assistant,” I said. Before she could pursue this further, I checked that I was standing in the right spot and pointed the gun at my chest.
“Blam!” I shouted, again making her jump. I clutched my chest with one hand, while dropping the gun to the floor with the other. And then I prayed.
A moment later my prayers were rewarded as we heard the patter of paws on carpet. We turned to see that Gypsy had jumped out of his dog bed and was scampering across the room. He happily picked up the gun between his teeth—it was a mouthful, but he was able to grasp it tightly—and then he trotted out of the room and down the stairs. We followed, heading halfway down the stairs, just in time to see him drop the gun right next to the recliner. He started back toward us, forcing me to run back up the stairs to Harley’s office.
“A dog that smart, you could teach him that trick in just a few days,” I said over my shoulder.
“Well, that covers the gun,” Homicide Detective Fred Hutton said between sneezes. “But what about the powder burns?”
I returned to my position in the center of the office and peeled off the glove. “In the few seconds I have left after shooting myself,” I explained, “I peel off the glove and drop it to the floor.” I did just that.
“But we would have found it by the body,” Homicide Detective Fred Hutton began, but he was interrupted by Gypsy, who ran back into the room and up to the glove. He sniffed it for a brief second, then picked it up and carried it back to his dog bed, where he began to chew on it happily. In just a few seconds it was virtually shredded.
“I ducked into the kitchen and put a dog treat into that glove,” I said, “but I suspect Harley probably used a linen glove and soaked it in chicken or beef broth the day before. I think a thorough examination of Gypsy’s dog bed might even produce a few remaining tatters of that glove, which would undoubtedly have powder burns on it.”
Homicide Detective Fred Hutton made a move toward the bed and the glove Gypsy was currently enjoying, but the dog growled and barred his teeth. The Detective wisely stepped back from the dog bed. “We’ll look into that,” he said dryly.
“What I’m really hoping, Detective, is that you can find it in your heart to not arrest that dog as an accessory to murder.” This produced a smile and a chuckle. But not from Homicide Detective Fred Hutton.
He turned and spoke sharply to Deirdre. “That’s not funny.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” she said. “It’s a little funny. You just have no sense of humor.”
This remark triggered a new phase of their ongoing argument. I listened for a few painful seconds, and then held up my hands in protest.
“Here’s the thing,” I said as I backed toward the door. “I am happy to help you out from time to time, but if it means having to endure an episode of The Bickersons every time I see you two, count me out.” Deirdre gave me a puzzled look. “In case you’re keeping track, that reference is probably well over sixty years old.” This did little to abate her confusion.
“Thanks again, Gypsy, for being the best invisible assistant I’ve never seen,” I continued, tossing the remaining dog treat across the room. The little dog jumped up and caught it in the air.
As I headed down the stairs, I could hear the crunching of that dog treat, followed by the sound of an argument beginning anew. This was cut short by another flurry of sneezing, which was the last sound I heard before I shut the door behind me.
About the Author
In real life, John’s not a magician, but he has directed six low-budget features that cost very little and made even less – that’s no small trick. He’s also written multiple books on the subject of low-budget filmmaking. Ironically, they’ve made more than the films. His blog, “Fast, Cheap Movie Thoughts” has been named “One of the 50 Best Blogs for Moviemakers” and “One of The 100 Best Blogs For Film and Theater Students.” He’s also written for TV and the stage. John lives in Minnesota and shares his home with his lovely wife, several dogs, a few cats and a handful of pet allergies.
The Eli Marks Mystery Series
by John Gaspard
Novels
THE AMBITIOUS CARD (#1)
THE BULLET CATCH (#2)
THE MISER’S DREAM (#3)
Short Stories
THE INVISIBLE ASSISTANT
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