by Don Passman
I said to Hannah, “Hang on a sec.”
She looked at the guy in the straitjacket, then at me. “I don’t have time for this.”
“Only a sec.”
She looked at her watch. “Thirty seconds.”
The skinny man invited a large man in a red-checked lumberjack shirt to tie the straps on the straitjacket. Lumberjack put his foot in the small of the thin man’s back and pulled the canvas tight. I noticed how the thin guy braced his arms to pick up some slack, just like Houdini did. He knows what he’s doing. That’ll give him room to wriggle free.
Lumberjack’s face reddened as he fastened the leather straps into the belt hooks. Skinny said, “Now, could you please tie my feet?”
The assistant handed Lumberjack a length of rope. He took it, squatted down, and tied the escapist’s feet together.
From behind me, Hannah said, “Ten seconds.”
Without looking back, I waved for her to hold on.
The assistant grabbed the rope dangling from the tall machine and pulled it over to where the magician was standing. She attached the iron hook at the end of the rope to the ties on his feet, then went back to the contraption and turned the crank. The roped tightened. The magician squatted, sat, then laid down on the ground. The assistant kept cranking. His feet went up in the air, then the rest of his body. The top hat fell off.
Hannah said, “Glad to see your case is less important to you than a sideshow.”
I said, “Just a second.”
The magician went up higher, swaying on the rope. His assistant stopped cranking when his head was about five feet from the concrete.
I saw him give her a nod, though the audience probably didn’t notice. She took out a cigarette lighter, flicked it on, and lit a torch.
The assistant said, “It took Houdini two minutes and forty-four seconds to get out of a straitjacket.” She walked over to the escapist, raised the torch, and held it up against the rope just above the magician’s feet. The rope caught fire. The crowd gasped.
The magician started writhing like a butterfly in a cocoon.
The assistant said, “It takes two and a half minutes to burn through the rope. If Les doesn’t get out in time, he can’t use his arms to break the fall. He’ll go headfirst into the pavement. Last year, a magician didn’t make it. He cracked his skull and is still in a coma. Anyone mind if I take up a collection in advance?”
She dunked the torch in a bucket of water. The flame hissed out.
The crowd stared at the struggling magician. The assistant scooped up the magician’s top hot and walked through the crowd. Still watching the escapist, people absently tossed money into the hat. The rope blackened. Strands popped out.
I reached into my pocket and gave her a dollar that I couldn’t afford. She looked at Lisa and my jacket, then gave me a wink. Did she know I was one of them?
I saw the magician make a lurching move. I could tell he was free of the jacket, though he kept it around him for effect. He watched until she’d made the last collection, then he tossed it off.
The crowd cheered. Lisa flapped her wings. She likes applause.
The magician pulled his upper body toward the hook on his feet, like he was doing a sit-up in the air. Wow. He’s got incredible abs. Just like Houdini.
The rope burned to a thin strand.
The audience was focused on the magician. I shot my eyes between him and the assistant. Just as he got hold of the foot hook, the assistant threw a hidden lever on the lifting machine. The burning rope snapped. As the magician fell, he straightened up and landed on his feet. The crowd cheered.
This guy is good. I started forward to congratulate him, then glanced back at Hannah.
Gone.
I’m in deep shit.
Maybe I can take a second to congratulate him. Magicians like to know they’re appreciated by other magicians.
A bunch of people had gotten in ahead of me. I tried to push in. Got elbowed in the ribs.
C’mon, move it.
I looked at my watch. I shouldn’t piss off Hannah any more than necessary.
I waved at the magician. Didn’t catch his eye.
I looked at my watch again.
Maybe I’ll catch his next show.
I gave him one last wave. He didn’t see it.
I started up the Boardwalk, glancing back.
I found Hannah two pizza parlors down the way. As I walked in, she was talking to a bald man behind the counter, who was shaking his head. Hannah turned and walked past me. I hurried outside and tried to get alongside her. She can really move.
When I caught up, Hannah stopped. She turned to face me. “I don’t know why I’m giving up a Saturday if you’re more interested in a street entertainer than you are in your own case.”
I took a half step back, panting from the run to catch up with her. “That magician had a technique I’d never seen before.” Well, not for a while anyway.
“Great. I’m sure you can get extra privileges by doing tricks for the prison guards.”
“Hey. I’m a professional magician. I have to keep up with the latest techniques. Don’t you read the newest law cases?”
“Not when I’m doing client business.” She took off, walking fast.
I hurried alongside. We both looked straight ahead.
Lisa nibbled at my earlobe. I pushed her away. She came in for another bite.
* * *
Hanna and I tried three more pizza places, which proved equally Kevin-free.
We next walked into Vesuvio, a tiny redbrick building that smelled like pizza dough. There was a white Formica counter, with a menu board hanging above it, and two wooden picnic tables covered with plastic red-checkered tablecloths. A spiky-haired man walked up to the counter when he saw us. He wore a white apron over a wifebeater undershirt, and his arms were so inked with skulls, barbed wire, and jungle cats that it looked like he was wearing a colored shirt.
The man looked at Lisa and said, “Cool bird.” When he spoke, I saw a stud glint on his tongue.
“Thanks.”
He took a pencil from behind his multipierced ear, opened an order pad, and flipped over the top page. “What’ll you have?” Despite the warrior tattoos, his voice was gentle.
I looked up at the menu board.
There it is! Right under the Romana Special.
Three-Cheese Pizza.
I smiled at the guy. “Is Kevin around?”
He looked at Hannah, then back at me. He squinched his eyes. “Who are you?”
“Harvey Kendall. This is Hannah Fisher. We’re private investigators.”
“What do you want with Kevin?”
“Just some information. You’re Kevin, right?”
Keeping his eyes on me, he put the pencil behind his ear, let go of it, and gave a single nod.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Kevin looked at Hannah, then at me. “Is she a cop?”
Hannah said, “No. We’re working for one of the defendants. Someone who didn’t do it.”
Kevin looked back and forth between us. “How come you’re here before the cops?”
She shrugged. “Frankly, we’re ahead of them on the case.”
I said, “Help us find the sonofabitch who did it.” I watched him closely, looking for a defensive reaction. Didn’t see one.
Kevin yelled toward the back. “Ernie, can I take a few minutes?”
A man with a stubbled gray beard stuck his head over the kitchen counter. “Make it quick.”
We went outside and sat at a concrete table whose red-checked plastic tablecloth flapped in the ocean breeze. A thick crowd of people milled past us.
Kevin picked up a glass shaker of red pepper flakes and tilted it to the side, forming a red-flecked slope.
Hannah said, “How’d you meet Sherry?”
He turned the shaker, reengineering his slope. “I used to babysit for her when she was ten. I’m five years older than her.” He spoke so softly, it was hard to hear him over the cr
owd noise. I leaned in closer.
Kevin said, “Her father was a single dad. Real protective, you know? He never liked me much, but I lived in the neighborhood and I was cheap.”
Hannah said, “When I was little, a neighborhood boy used to babysit me. I had the biggest crush on him.”
Kevin smiled. He leaned forward and set down the pepper shaker. “Yeah. Guess it’s an older-man thing.”
Good, Hannah. You’re relaxing him.
She said, “How’d you get back together?”
Kevin told the story we’d pieced together from the e-mails. Sherry came into his restaurant with a girlfriend, he waited on them, they exchanged info, he followed up, and they started dating.
I said, “How’d her old man feel about that?”
He drew back from the table. Ooops. Did he just figure out that we knew more than we were telling?
Hannah kicked me under the table. Ow. I moved my leg away from her.
She spoke soothingly to Kevin. “Where’d you go on the first date?” He kept looking at me, then turned back to her.
“Raz. This club in Hollywood.”
As he talked about his dates with Sherry, I could see him loosening up.
Okay, Hannah. I won’t miss any chances to shut up.
While he told Hannah about his date with Sherry, I reached into my jacket pocket, took out a piece of smooth white rope, and laid it on the table. Hannah glanced at it, looking puzzled, then went back to talking to Kevin.
I saw Kevin’s eyes go to the rope, then back to Hannah.
While they spoke, I started tying the rope into a loop knot. Exactly like the one around Sherry’s wrists. As the knot took shape, I watched Kevin for a reaction. He glanced down at the rope, looked up at me like I was some kind of whack job, then went back to Hannah.
Hannah gently worked him up to the subject of Sherry’s father.
Kevin said, “The old man didn’t like me when I was a kid. Probably thought I molested her or something.” He looked back and forth at us. “I’d never do anything like that.”
Hannah and I were both shaking our heads. “Of course not.”
Kevin said, “Both me and her figured it was better if her old man didn’t know about our hooking up again. I mean, you know, unless it got real serious or something.” He picked up the pepper shaker and tapped the side, quivering the flakes.
Hannah said, “What’s he like? Her father?”
“Tough guy. High-school boxer, I think. Scared the shit out of me when I was little.” His mouth formed a shy grin. “Guess he still does, a little.”
“You said he was really protective?”
Kevin blew an upward puff of air from the side of his mouth, meaning “No shit, Sherlock.”
She said, “Did he find out about you?”
He shook his head. “Not unless she told him. Which I seriously doubt.”
“What happened over the last few weeks?”
Kevin clunked down the pepper shaker. “She wanted to break up.” His eyes got wet.
Hannah nodded sympathetically.
Kevin told a story consistent with the e-mails. She stopped answering his calls, then sent an e-mail saying they should see other people. She said something about dating an older man. Kevin didn’t know who he was.
He said, “I loved her. I told her this was bogus. You know, breaking up by e-mail and all that. I said she should tell me to my face. So I kept bugging her until she agreed to see me.”
“Did she?”
“Yeah.”
I sat up straight. So did Hannah.
That wasn’t in the e-mails.
Hannah said, “When?” Her voice had a little quiver.
“The night before she…” He bit his lower lip and looked away.
The plastic tablecloth snapped in the ocean breeze.
Hannah said, “What happened?”
A customer walked past us, into the store. Kevin jumped up, ran inside, and stood behind the counter. We followed him in. Hannah was watching him closely. Does she think he’s going to run?
Kevin wrote up the order, then came back to us. We walked outside and sat at the table again.
He looked around. “Sherry said I could come by her place. No fooling around, she said. Just one last conversation.” His eyes filled with tears.
I said, “I’m sure she cared about you.”
Hannah kicked me again. Okay, okay. I slid away from her.
Kevin said, “We talked for a long time. I couldn’t get her to tell me what was going down. She just said she was dating somebody. Wouldn’t tell me who. Anyway, I’m crying, and telling her I love her, and then I sit next to her. Then I try to kiss her, and she says, ‘No,’ but I can tell she doesn’t mean it, so pretty soon, she really doesn’t mean it, and we ended up, you know…”
The sounds of the crowd seemed to get louder.
Hannah said, “You think she was going to get back together with you?”
“I dunno. I hoped so. Until that guy came in.”
Hannah and I both said, “What guy?”
A bell inside the restaurant dinged. Kevin jumped up and ran inside. We went to the door and watched him grab a pizza off the kitchen counter, slide it off the round metal tray into a white cardboard box, and hand it to the customer.
From the kitchen, a gruff voice yelled, “Break’s over.”
Kevin said, “I just need a second.”
“I don’t pay you to sit around.”
Hannah walked toward the back. She said, “We’ll be happy to order something. Please give us a minute with Kevin.”
A gray-bearded man’s head came over the counter. “Who’re you?”
Kevin looked terrified.
Hannah put on a purring sexy look.
Hadn’t seen that one before. Kinda nice.
She said, “I’m his cousin from Ohio. Just in town this afternoon. Please, sir, I’d love a few more minutes to visit.”
The old man looked at her. He stared for a few seconds, then waved the air in a “Get on with it.”
Hannah ordered a three-cheese pizza. Kevin put in the order, and we went back to the table.
Hannah said, “So who walked in on you?”
“I know. I shoulda called the cops. I was just, well…”
Hannah patted his hand. “I understand. You were overwhelmed.”
His voice quavered. “Am I gonna get in trouble for not calling them?”
“We’ll help you with that. Tell us about the guy. It was a man, wasn’t it?”
He nodded. “I don’t know much.”
“Just tell us what you do.”
“Well, we were, you know, going at it in her bed. Then I hear her dog bark. I didn’t think much of it until I hear this guy’s voice in the room. He yells, ‘Slut!’ I roll over to get a look but he’s gone. I hear her apartment door slam.”
Kevin pulled at one of his earrings.
Hannah said, “Was the dog barking the whole time?”
“No. Just a couple of barks before he came in. Then it stopped.”
“What happened next?”
“I asked her who that was. She wouldn’t tell me. Sherry started yelling at me. She said I’d fu—screwed everything up, and told me to get the hell out. She actually hit me. First time she ever hit me.” He started crying.
The bell inside dinged. Kevin grabbed the front of his T-shirt and pulled it up to wipe his eyes. He then jumped up, went inside, and came back with Hannah’s three-cheese pizza.
As he set it down on the table, Kevin whispered, “Ernie says I’m gonna get fired if I don’t get back in there.”
“Where were you the next night?”
He stiffened. “The night she was…”
“Yes.”
He shook his head. “Working. Right here. You can ask Ernie. There were some regular customers who can vouch for that, too.”
“I believe you.” Hannah stood. “Kevin, you need to tell the police what you know. Ask for Sergeant Morton. He’s working this c
ase. Tell him I said to call.” She gave him her card.
He looked down at her card, then up at her. “This says you’re a lawyer. You told me you were an investigator.”
She took the pizza. “I do both.”
* * *
As soon as Kevin went back inside, Hannah dumped the pizza in an oil-drum trash can.
Didn’t you think I might have an opinion before you chucked it? I could smell the hot cheeses.
As we walked back toward my car, I said, “What do you think about Kevin’s story?”
“The intruder was almost certainly the new boyfriend. Assuming Kevin is telling the truth and there really was an intruder. Kevin could’ve killed her because she broke up with him.”
“You think he was lying?”
“On instinct, no. But you never know. We’ll see if his alibi is solid.”
I explained why I’d made a knot like Sherry’s while we were sitting there.
She said, “Ah. I thought it was the equivalent of weaving baskets in a loony bin.”
I said, “He didn’t react to the knot.”
“Might have been too subtle.”
We passed the straitjacket magician, who was packing up. I really should congratulate him. I looked at Hannah. Her face was lined with thought. Maybe I’ll congratulate him next time.…
I said, “Sherry’s neighbors complained about the barking dog. If it was a quick bark and then it stopped, the dog probably knew the intruder. She lived in a security building. The intruder had to be someone with a key to the building and her apartment.”
“Consistent with the ‘other lover’ premise.”
“Or her father. Or like you said, Kevin did it and there was no intruder.”
We walked up Venice Boulevard. I said, “Kevin’s story doesn’t really help me, does it?”
“He didn’t see who came in. It’s impossible to pin someone’s voice on a single word.” Hannah kept looking straight ahead. “So you could have been the intruder.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Hannah and I drove down Washington Boulevard, away from Venice Beach, and got onto the 405 freeway. As we picked up speed, I said, “Why’d you keep kicking me under the table at the pizza place?”
