Now You See It

by Jane Tesh

  “Pretty angry, but he’s been perfectly civil since then. Besides, he liked Taft, and he and Lucas are good friends.”

  “Would you say they’re competitive? Maybe trying to outdo each other?”

  “Yes, they do that all the time. What are you getting at?”

  “This bet Lucas had. I’m pretty sure it relates to Taft’s death. Did you ever hear either of them say anything about that?”

  “No, but when Jolly Bob came to the club, they were always at the bar. Jilly might have heard something.”

  “I’ll stop in tomorrow and ask her, thanks. Oh, one more thing, please. What’s the deal with WAM?”

  Rahnee finally told me the Dark Secret. “It’s sheer foolishness. Every year in Atlanta, we attend a convention. One year, things got a little out of hand, as things tend to do, and a member of WAM accused a WOW magician of stealing his illusion. It was Jolly Bob, actually, and even though he’s been known to ‘borrow’ tricks from other magicians, he went ballistic. He told the entire magic community how the illusion was done, so now it was useless in the WAM member’s act. The worst thing a magician can do is reveal another magician’s secret.”

  “So it’s unlikely Taft would have gone to Charlotte.”

  “Yes, but I couldn’t say for certain.”

  “Who would know?”

  “The main club is called Ali’s Cavern. You could check with them.”

  I called Ali’s Cavern. A recorded message accompanied by “I Put a Spell on You” informed me the club was open Thursday through Sunday for lunch, and Friday and Saturday for lunch and supper. For all other inquiries I supposed the magicians of WAM communicated telepathically.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Night Time Magic

  When I went to the kitchen to make a sandwich, Angie lumbered into the dining room, several dresses draped over one huge arm. She spread her sewing projects out on the dining room table. In a few minutes, Rufus and Camden came downstairs and took their jackets from the halltree. Camden wrapped his muffler around his neck. Rufus pulled his baseball cap down on his scruffy hair.

  Angie took some pins out of her mouth. “Where do you think you’re going?”

  Camden gestured to the door, and Rufus said, “We’re going out. Going to drown our sorrows.”

  “The hell you are. Cam don’t need to go out in the cold, and he sure as hell don’t need a beer.”

  Rufus ignored her. “Come on, Cam.”

  “All right, fine,” she said. “Go on. See if I care.”

  The next sound was the roar of the bigfoot truck and the screech of tires. I sat down at the counter to eat. Angie did something with scissors and brown tissue paper. Silence reigned for about twenty minutes, and then damned if Ellin didn’t come back. She has this truly frightening habit of reversing herself, sometimes in mid-sentence. She stepped in and shut the door behind her.

  “Oh, hello, Angie. I’m going to go up and check on Cam.”

  “He isn’t here,” Angie said. “He went out with Rufus. Couple of dopes.”

  “Went out? He was supposed to rest.”

  “They couldn’t wait to guzzle a couple of six-packs.”

  “Well, of all the stupid things.”

  Ellin stood in typical pissed position, arms folded, mouth tight. She and Angie don’t get along that well, but for the moment, the bizarre behavior of their boyfriends allied them.

  Then Ellin turned on me. “You could have stopped him, Randall.”

  “He certainly could’ve,” Angie agreed.

  “Excuse me,” I said. “The last time I looked, Camden was the same age as me.”

  “You know he shouldn’t drink.”

  “Delbert only serves him Coke.”

  I wasn’t sure her lips could get any tighter. I was wrong. “And he should be home taking care of that sore throat.”

  “He’s a grown man.”

  I got the full glare. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve had things on my mind. And now I’m supposed to tell a grown man, as you just pointed out, to take some cough syrup and go to bed, the same grown man who has decided to go out to a bar tonight and get bombed on whatever he can get his hands on? I call that running away from the problem.”

  “You tell him, girl,” Angie said. “That’s exactly what my big fool is doing.”

  “It’s Wednesday night,” I said. All I got from Ellin was a blank look. “Choir practice. This is the first time he’s missed in years.”

  “Oh, for goodness sake. He shouldn’t be so worried. His voice will come back.”

  “I’m just saying.”

  She gave an exasperated sigh and left. I looked at Angie, who shrugged. I finished my sandwich and went back to the safety of my office. My phone rang. I’m always glad to hear a woman’s voice, but this was Julia Wright, Barbara’s older sister. I knew right away why she was calling.

  “David, we haven’t heard from you. You’re coming to the reunion, aren’t you?”

  “Thanks for the invitation, Julia, but I’m swamped with work. I’ve got several cases going.”

  Julia’s a big blonde woman who likes to mother everyone. I’m sure she envisioned me sitting at home, alone and friendless. “Well, you could leave them for one evening, anyway, couldn’t you, and come to the cookout? It’s on Upper Lake, only a couple of hours from where you are.”

  “Thanks, but I can’t make it.”

  “I really think you and Barbara should get back together. It’s been how many years now?” Here it came. “I think it’s about time you got over it.”

  Why do people feel compelled to say that? “It’s not something you get over, Julia.”

  “You need to get on with your lives, and I really think it would help if you did that together. You know how the other one is feeling. You could console each other.”

  Actually, I had no idea what Barbara was feeling. I knew she hated me. I knew she blamed me. Anything else was up for grabs. Did she want to be consoled? Did she want another child? Was she able to look at Lindsey’s picture without that horrible stab of grief and regret?

  “I appreciate your concern, but I’m pretty sure Barbara doesn’t want me there.”

  “I think she’d feel differently once she sees you.”

  I think she’d heave the nearest bowl of potato salad at my head. “Well, I’ve got to go.”

  “Are you still living in that big house with all those weird people?”

  “I fit right in, trust me.”

  “If you change your mind, call me.”

  “I will, thanks.”

  I hung up and sat for a moment, looking at the phone. Why hadn’t I married Julia instead of her sister? Of course, Barbara had started out as a cheerful, fun-loving person, too. Nothing like a little car accident to change the mood.

  I really didn’t want to dwell on that, so I finished reading the notes on Houdini Kary had compiled and compared the information with the book I’d borrowed from Lucas Finch. There was more to Houdini than magic tricks. He was into aviation and had been one of the first to make a controlled power flight over Australia in 1910. He’d had a movie career, even running his own studio before deciding it was too expensive. His silent films included such riveting titles as Terror Island and The Grim Game. I had to laugh, though, when I found out the Society of American Magicians was also known as SAM. SAM, WAM, and WOW.

  Houdini was also an author, and his book, A Magician Among the Spirits, cost him his friendship with, of all people, Arthur Conan Doyle. Houdini’s book was all about his successful attempts to debunk spiritualists, and Doyle, being a believer in spiritualism, was furious with him. Two reasonably intelligent people at war over ghosts. Sounded like something that would go on in our house.

  When I heard Kary come in, I didn’t leap up. She stopped by my office door, all smiles. “I got the job, and wait ti
ll you see my outfit.”

  “I hope it includes spangly tights.”

  “I’m going to let it be a surprise.” She came in and sat down. “Omar is a riot. His real name is Horace, and he works for Arrow Insurance. He’s married and has three grown children. He’s been doing his act since he was thirteen, and he says he doesn’t really care if he makes money or not. He loves performing. Oh, and he said I was the perfect distraction.”

  “I’ve been saying that for years. Now what about your meeting?”

  “Couldn’t have gone better. I’m all signed up, and soon prospective parents will be beating down the door.”

  “Really?”

  “Not exactly. I listened and learned. Baby Love makes thousands of dollars a year, but where does that money go? No one seemed to have a good answer. I want to have a look at their financial records.”

  “That might be tricky.”

  “The head of Baby Love also keeps track of all the money. I’ve got her name and address.”

  “Well, unless you’ve got her bank account numbers, you can’t find out anything, and please don’t tell me you’re going to break into First National.”

  “I’ll think of something.” She indicated my notes. “Any help?”

  “Yes, thanks. I’ve learned that in addition to his escape skills, Houdini was a pilot, a movie star, and a ghostbuster. This case is coming along slowly, though. Yet another magician showed up today. I guess they’ll be popping up everywhere, like magic.”

  “What did this one want?”

  “He tried to scare me with some story about the Houdini box being dangerous and ruining lives and told me I needed to find it before it destroyed the world.”

  “Really? Sounds like he wants the box.”

  “Yep. Even told me where to look. The Willow Creek Brothers of the Scared Arts.”

  “Ooo, spooky. Who is this guy?”

  “Bart of Bart, Binky, and His Baffling Birds. He scoffs at the notion the box actually belonged to Houdini, however,” I pulled a page from the notes Kary had given me, “I found something interesting in your research. Seems according to Houdini’s will, all his special effects were to be burned and destroyed, but his brother didn’t do that. He sold a lot of stuff to one of Houdini’s fans, a Sidney Hollis Radner. Mr. Radner displayed everything in The Houdini Magical Hall of Fame in Niagara Falls, Ontario, but in 1995, a fire destroyed the museum. This is the interesting part. Many of the props survived and were auctioned off in 1999 and 2008.”

  “So this box could have been one of those props.”

  “Or it could just be a box with an ‘H’ on it. ‘H’ for handkerchiefs or harmonicas.”

  “Or handcuffs. Wasn’t Houdini the handcuff king?” She took the paper and read the information again. “If this box is the real thing, it could be very valuable. Maybe I can find out some information from Omar. He knows a lot about the history of magic.”

  “Sounds good. Now there’s just one other thing.”

  She leaned forward. “Yes?”

  “Marry me. Right now. Right this minute.”

  She laughed and sat back. “Not today.”

  “Tomorrow, then.”

  “I think we still have a few things to work out.”

  I got as far as “Kary, I—” when my phone rang. I was going to ignore it, but she said, “I’ve got to have something to eat. I’m starving,” and left.

  Damn. It was Delbert, bartender at the Crow Bar.

  “Cam says come get him and Rufus.”

  I didn’t hear any opera singing in the background, so Camden wasn’t drunk. Of course, he wouldn’t be able to sing anything tonight. “What’s the trouble?”

  “Rufus is tanked, and Cam can’t drive that bigfoot truck of his.”

  I looked at my watch. It wasn’t even eight o’clock. Rufus must have been guzzling the beers down. “Tell him I’ll be there in a minute.”

  “No rush.”

  Well, I wasn’t doing anything else, was I?

  ***

  At the Crow Bar, I crossed the crowded, smoke-filled room to the back. Rufus was draped across a table. Camden sat sideways in a booth, feet up, drinking what looked like his tenth Coke.

  “He didn’t have no beer,” Delbert told me.

  “Thanks, Del.”

  Camden saw me and raised his bottle in greeting.

  “You got the keys?” I asked.

  He tossed them to me.

  “You think the two of us can haul Rufus out?”

  He pointed to a large tattooed man at the next table.

  “Carl,” I said, “give us a hand with Rufus.”

  Carl heaved up and came over. We hauled Rufus off the table and dragged him through the bar out to his truck, where we folded him into the back. Camden climbed into the passenger’s seat. I got behind the wheel and admired the view.

  “I can see our house from here.”

  The truck started with a roar. The huge tires gripped the street and gave us a smooth if elevated ride.

  “You two get it out of your system?”

  Camden shrugged.

  “Ellin came by. She and Angie had a heart to heart.”

  He kept looking out the window.

  “What do you think? Is the PNS too important to her, or will she do the right thing?”

  His lack of interest made me wonder if he’d given up on Ellin. Ellin and I have our moments, but oddly enough, I didn’t feel a sense of triumph.

  “I need to check out Ali’s Cavern in Charlotte,” I said. “You know what this means.”

  Camden looked cheerful for the first time that evening.

  “That’s right, pal. Road trip.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  You Can Do Magic

  The prospect of escape gave breakfast a festive air. Camden’s voice was a little better. Must have been all the cola. We had more Coke for the road as well as a big bag of nutrition-less snacks.

  I made the turn onto I-85 toward Charlotte. “We will finally gaze upon the mysterious Ali’s Cavern. I was beginning to believe it existed in another realm.”

  Camden was already into the chips. “Are you sure they’re open on Thursdays?”

  “According to their website they’re open Thursday through Saturday for lunch.”

  “I get lunch, too?”

  “You’re going to take part in a little deception. I want you to pretend you can read minds.”

  “Okay.”

  “Try to look mysterious and otherworldly.”

  “That’ll be extra.”

  I passed a couple of slow-moving trucks and swung back into the right-hand lane. “Let me try out my theories on you. Rahnee Nevis and Jolly Bob were rivals for the Magic Club. She thinks he’s a loser. He thinks she’s too ambitious. WizBoy lied to me about the box, so he may have lied about other things. Bartender Jilly would do anything to be on stage, and I’m not sure what Bart’s game is.”

  “All this over a box that may or may not have belonged to Houdini.”

  “Here’s something about the Finches’ box. Houdini’s personal props were in a museum that burned in the mid-90s. Quite a few of these props survived and were sold. I’m thinking if the box was one of those items rescued from the fire, then it’s the real deal.”

  “And filled with evil power.”

  “Only if you believe Bart, which I don’t. For some reason, he’s misdirecting us.”

  Camden tipped the bag so I could get a handful of chips. “If he wants the box, why doesn’t he go talk to the Sacred Willow Brothers, or whoever they are?”

  “If they even exist. I say we storm the temple later today.”

  “I’m all for it. I haven’t stormed anything in a while.” He cleared his throat. He was keeping his voice to a whisper. “Anything else about Houdini?”
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  “Now there was a man who had no problem with self-esteem. He practically willed himself to succeed. He flew airplanes and starred in his own silent films, and he was married to the same woman for over thirty years. Can you see you and Ellin managing that?”

  “Could be a challenge.”

  “Here’s something really interesting. He and Arthur Conan Doyle were big pals.”

  “The man who wrote the Sherlock Holmes stories?”

  “Same guy. They had a falling out over spiritualism. Doyle believed. Houdini didn’t.”

  “That’s odd. Sherlock’s such a logical character.”

  “Well, apparently, Doyle was convinced by someone probably like the Deadly Sheila that his departed loved ones, his brother and son, communicated from the Great Beyond, what the medium called ‘The Summerland.’ Houdini couldn’t believe his otherwise intelligent friend was such a sucker.”

  “Houdini didn’t believe at all, then?”

  “He wanted to. He’d tried to reach his mother, and when he couldn’t, he declared war on all mediums, fortune-tellers, so-called psychics. You would’ve been on his hit list.” I watched as a string of cars shot around the Fury like bullets. I was going sixty-five, but apparently, this was too slow. “He was even on a Scientific American committee that offered two thousand dollars for an actual spirit photograph and twenty-five hundred dollars to any medium who could show them real results. He was serious about it.”

  “Did he and Doyle ever reconcile their differences?”

  “Nope. Doyle was one of those people mediums called ‘shut eyes.’ He couldn’t be disillusioned or turned from his belief no matter what.”

  “Exactly like Sheila.”

  “Houdini spent his entire farewell vaudeville tour exposing spiritualists. There’s even a theory he was poisoned by them—that’d be a great mystery—but most of the research said he was suffering from appendicitis and died when someone punched him in the stomach too hard.”

  “That’s weird.”

  “And he died on Halloween.”

  “Now you’re scaring me.” Camden observed the scenery for a while and then said, “He was married for over thirty years, huh?”