Now You See It

by Jane Tesh

  “I’ll tell him. Did you find out who’s stealing things? I’m available.”

  “Thanks, but we’ve got it under control. The receptionist is going to make sure the side doors are locked during taping. We think that’s how our thief is getting in.”

  “If that doesn’t work, give me a call.”

  She thanked me and hung up. I went in search of a snack. Camden was already in the kitchen hunting for a Coke in the fridge. He tossed me one.

  “Your sweetie just called. She wants you to know she’s doing her best to keep Sheila from predicting.”

  “I hope she can.”

  “I’ve got to do some work on Sandy’s case. I’ve run out of places to look for her bracelet. Guess I’ll retrace my steps and see if I missed anything.”

  “I could always give it a try.”

  “I’ll let you know.” I wasn’t ready to have Camden’s help. Unlike tracking Taft’s murderer, finding a bracelet wasn’t a life or death situation. Even though it bugged me not to have solved her case, I knew Sandy would be patient.

  “Oh, that’s all right, David,” she said when I called her. “I’ve been so busy with various functions lately. I did have a few phone calls, though, from people who thought they had my bracelet and wanted a reward. Of course, none of them knew about the initials, so when I asked them to describe the bracelet, they always left out that important little detail.”

  “Sorry you’re being hassled about it.”

  “Well, you never know. Someone honest might find it and call me.”

  “How did these people know you’d lost a bracelet?”

  “Oh, word’s gotten around the club, and once that happens, the world knows. It’s all right, really.”

  “Sandy, I wish all my clients were as understanding as you.”

  “I know you’re doing everything you can.”

  I thanked her and hung up. Her upbeat attitude made me even more determined to find her bracelet. Was I doing everything I could? I checked off the places I’d searched: jewelry stores, pawnshops, the country club, the churches. Maybe, like all the magicians kept telling me, it was right before my eyes and I couldn’t see it.

  Rufus wandered into my office, looking particularly scraggly in his worn bib overalls and Harley Davidson t-shirt. I wouldn’t have been surprised to see a mouse peering out from the undergrowth that was his beard. I didn’t want to provoke the beast, but I had to ask.

  “How’s the hangover?”

  “Ain’t no big thing.” He settled himself into the chair across from my desk and pulled out his tobacco pouch. “Want somethin’ to do?”

  “I’ve got plenty to do, thanks. What’s up?”

  “Your little romance with Kary’s getting along pretty good, right?”

  “Pretty good.”

  “Then you tell me what the hell I can do to fix things with Angie.”

  “Marry her.”

  “Aw, hell. That dog won’t hunt.”

  “Translation, please.”

  Rufus dug a wad of tobacco from the pouch and stuffed it in one cheek. “I ain’t ready for that.”

  “Who is?”

  “Well, you, for one. Can’t go anywhere in this house without stepping on your tongue.”

  “Are you in love with Angie?”

  He squinted at me, so I figured he was thinking about it. “Yep.”

  “Have you told her? Maybe that’s all she needs to hear right now. Come on. We can have a double wedding. No, a triple wedding, if Camden decides to man up.”

  Rufus shifted the wad of tobacco to his other cheek. “Think that’s likely?”

  “Let’s all get it over with.”

  “I dunno. You can put your boots in the oven, but that don’t make ’em biscuits.”

  “What? Speak English, damn it.”

  Rufus leaned forward. “What I mean, Yankee boy, is that it’s a bigger commitment than anybody thinks, and just sayin’ ‘let’s get married’ don’t cut it. You gotta have a plan. You gotta have resources.”

  I knew what he meant. “You’re not making enough money.”

  He sat back with a sigh that ruffled his beard. Any mice in there needed to hang on. “Want Angie to have everything she deserves, you know?”

  “I know. But if she loves you, she won’t care about that.”

  “But I care. I want the time to be right. She’s just gonna have to wait.” He looked around for a place to spit.

  “Not in here,” I said.

  “Where’s your trash can?”

  “Go out in the yard. But before you go, let me ask you something. The bartender at the Bombay Club told one of her employees to shape up or he’d be sorrier than a mustard-eating frog on Sunday. First of all, do frogs eat mustard, and second, why Sunday? Are there other days on which said frog would be less sorry?”

  He shrugged. “Same as a jumped-up toad in a pickle barrel.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense, either! How do these sayings get started? You have to be making these up as you go along.”

  “Nah. Heard ‘em all my life. Part of our colorful Southern heritage. You like that? ‘Heritage’?”

  “I’m impressed. How about he looked like death sucking a sponge?”

  “Same as death eatin’ a cracker, only messier.”

  “Thanks for clearing that up.”

  He pulled himself out of the chair and went to the door where he turned for his usual parting joke. “Know what a redneck’s last words are?”

  “Lay it on me.”

  “‘Hey, ya’ll watch this!’” He gave a snort of laughter and left.

  Yeah, watch this. Watch the Three Stooges lose the women they loved because they were too busy trying to figure out what they wanted. We would all be sorrier than mustard-eating frogs or pickle barrel toads.

  I was still wondering what else I could do when Jordan called. I was a little surprised to hear from him until I realized he wanted some information.

  “Randall, I’m sure you’ve been talking to Rahnee Nevis. What’s the deal between her and Taft Finch?”

  “They were having an affair. She’s not a suspect, is she? I haven’t been able to find a motive.”

  “That’s what she told me. And she was not planning to sell the club to anyone.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Just crossing some t’s here.”

  “Then cross one for me. Do you know the cause of death?”

  “Apparently, Taft Finch had a drink Sunday morning and either forgot and took some pills along with it, or someone had already mixed the pills in for him. One second here.” I heard the click of his keyboard. “The report says ‘doxylamine succinate, a short-term sedative, and traces of diphenhydramine.’ It’s my guess these two things should not be together.”

  Doxylamine was the name Nick used for Taft’s blue pills. “I can’t imagine he forgot. Rahnee and Lucas both told me Taft rarely used his sleep medication, and he would’ve known better than to wash it down with alcohol.”

  “That’s why this is a murder investigation.”

  “Then someone big and strong would have to put Taft in the trunk—unless he was tricked into getting in.”

  “Well, of the three people who have keys to the club, only Ms. Nevis fits that description.”

  I didn’t like the way this was going. “Are you trying to paint her as the woman scorned? I think she and Taft were genuinely friends.”

  “Didn’t you and Cam take a little trip to Charlotte this morning?”

  “Wow, your spies are everywhere.”

  “It’s easy to spot that white whale of a car you drive. I’m guessing you spoke to the woman at Ali’s Cavern.”

  “Again, she and Taft were friends.”

  Jordan gave a snort. “Maybe Rahnee Nevis didn’t think so.”
>
  “Did you find Taft’s cell phone?”

  “No. We found his car, though, parked several blocks away from the club. The keys were still in it. The team’s going over it.”

  Parking was always a problem on Freer Street, but if Taft had come to the club early Sunday morning, he could’ve parked right in front. But Monday someone would’ve noticed his car and wondered where he was. Someone called him to the club, killed him, and then moved his car. This person probably got rid of Taft’s cell phone, too.

  “Do you have access to Taft’s phone records?”

  “We’re working on that. Notice I said ‘we’?”

  Jordan signed off with his usual warnings about getting in the way. I sat for a few minutes more, listening to the sounds of Kary in the kitchen opening cans—of tuna, most likely—opening packages of crackers, banging a cabinet door in search of the right baking dish. Then I went into the kitchen to see if I could help.

  She said I could fix some more tea, so I pulled out the tea bags and sugar. “How was your day?”

  “Dana told everyone he’d seen me at the Magic Club, so I answered questions all day about that.”

  “Did you tell the kids you were going to be a magician’s assistant?”

  “Of course. Now they’re really excited.” She crushed the crackers into the bowl of tuna. “How was your road trip?”

  “We found out Taft performed at Ali’s Cavern Saturday night and received a phone call that made him rush back to Parkland. Unfortunately, his cell phone’s missing, so we don’t know who made the call.”

  “Maybe the phone company can help you with that.”

  “Jordan’s on it, but he might not be persuaded to share.”

  “Maybe I should join the police force. Then you’d have someone who would share information with you.”

  I was determined not to let her rattle me. “You’d look very fetching in a police uniform.”

  “‘Fetching’?”

  “Fetching, knock down dead gorgeous, amazing. The list goes on.”

  “We’ll need some napkins, too, please.”

  I took some napkins from the cabinet, started to put them on the table, and had an idea. I chose a pen from the pencil holder on the counter and sat down to write. “Camden and I also visited the Willow Creek Brothers of the Sacred Arts.”

  “Ah, yes, the mysterious Willow Creek Brothers.”

  “It wasn’t. A bunch of guys trying to get away from their wives. Nothing there.”

  Kary dumped the tuna mixture into a baking dish. “That’s too bad.”

  “Oh, we’ll find more clues, I’m sure.”

  “No, I meant it’s too bad the guys want to get away from their wives.”

  “Maybe the wives have a secret club of their own.”

  Kary chuckled. “I’ll bet they do.”

  “I learned a magic trick.”

  “Oh, really?”

  “The Remarkable Randall, at your service. Pick a napkin. Any napkin.”

  She put the dish in the oven, wiped her hands on a dishcloth, and chose a napkin from the stack.

  “Open it.”

  She opened the napkin and read the message I’d written. “‘Will you marry me?’ Great trick! How’d you do it?”

  “Pick another.”

  She opened the second napkin and laughed. “You wrote it on all of them.”

  “Damn, there goes my secret.”

  “Well, every good magician has to start somewhere.”

  I set the magic napkins aside. “Speaking of that, I’d like you to ask Omar about his days as a member of WAM.”

  “Omar was a WAMer? He’s never mentioned it.”

  “I think he must have been starting out, and Ali’s Cavern gave him a try. If my information is correct, Jolly Bob stole one of Omar’s tricks, and when Omar caught him, Jolly Bob retaliated by ruining part of Omar’s act, and thus began the Great Magic Feud.”

  She took the silverware from the drawer. “I’ll be sure to ask him about it. Does this have anything to do with Taft’s murder?”

  “I don’t know. Stealing another magician’s trick is a big deal in the magic world. According to the woman we spoke with at Ali’s Cavern, Taft took care of things, which makes me wonder if he gave the WAM member a new trick, which is why Taft could perform at the Cavern despite his ties to WOW.”

  “Then Omar and Jolly Bob would have cause to hate each other, not Taft.”

  “Unless Jolly Bob hated Taft even more for going over to the other side.”

  “I’ll find out,” Kary said. She started into the dining room with the silverware.

  “You never answered my napkin.”

  She paused. “Your napkin has been taken into consideration.”

  “The Remarkable Randall would appreciate an answer soon.”

  “The Candid Kary will get back to you.”

  ***

  During supper, Camden indicated he had no voice left. Kary told everyone about her new job with Omar the Ring Master. Rufus talked about his latest construction job. Angie talked about a suit she was altering for someone. Fred grumbled about how no one would ever take him anywhere, and I valiantly ate tuna casserole.

  After everyone had managed to eat enough, Rufus pushed back from the table and stared at Angie. “Need to talk to you about something.”

  She wiped her mouth and tossed the napkin on the table. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. Been thinkin’ about it all day.”

  “Well, I think you can say it right here.”

  “Nope. It’s private.”

  “Private?”

  “That’s what I said. Private. Just you and me.”

  For a moment, we saw all saw Angie’s little eyes as they widened in surprise. “All right,” she said.

  The two of them lumbered out of the dining room and into the island.

  Kary’s eyes were wide, too. “Oh, my gosh. Is Rufus going to propose?”

  We couldn’t hear their voices, only a slight rumbling from Rufus. Camden pointed to his ring finger and frowned a question.

  “I don’t know if he has a ring,” I said. “He talked to me earlier about wanting to wait.”

  Fred glared around the table. “What the hell’s going on?”

  Kary shushed him. “Shh, Fred. We think Rufus is asking Angie to marry him.”

  “What? Marry that big gal? She’s so fat it takes two dogs to bark at her.”

  “Fred!”

  Camden gestured for silence. We strained to hear and were rewarded by a loud smack that I hoped was a kiss and not a punch in the face. It must have been a kiss, because a few moments later, the beaming couple came back to the dining room. Angie held out her plump hand to show us the tiny diamond while Rufus grinned, as he would’ve said, “like a goat eating briars.”

  Kary jumped up. “Oh, Angie! Congratulations! Congratulations, Rufus!” She gave them both a hug. Camden did the same. I hugged Angie and gave Rufus a slap on the shoulder, which was like slamming my hand into a wall.

  “What was all that about waiting?”

  He shrugged. “Might as well bite the bullet. I had my granny’s ring, so I thought, why not?” He looked at me and then at Camden. “Now, who’s next?”

  “Kary,” I said. “I don’t have a ring yet, but will you marry me?”

  She laughed. “No, this is Rufus and Angie’s moment.”

  Rufus turned to Camden. “I’ll call Ellin for you if you’re in the mood.”

  Camden shook his head.

  “Nah, I don’t guess this is a good time. But you’d better get a move on. I ain’t gonna be palling around with two wild bachelors.” He put his arm around Angie. “Well, sugar lips, we got some planning to do. What say we head out to the Crow Bar?”

  “All right,” she said. “And I want to
call my sister.”

  After they’d gone, we sat back at the table, explained to Fred what had happened, and had some leftover cookies Kary had baked a few days earlier.

  “Well, wasn’t that a surprise?” Kary said. “A wedding! That will be fun.”

  “We could make it a double ceremony,” I said.

  “I believe Angie and I have different ideas about our special day.”

  “Camden, what do you say? Oh, that’s right. You can’t say anything. Rufus and Angie, me and Kary, you and Ellin. One big splashy magical wedding, and it’s all done.”

  He went to the counter and got paper and pencil, scribbled a note, and passed it to me. I read it aloud. “‘That would take more magic than we have.’ Too true.”

  “Let’s take this one wedding at a time,” Kary said.

  Fred banged his spoon on the table like an annoyed infant. “What wedding? Who’s getting married? And where’s my cookie?”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Magic Night

  After all the excitement at home, it was sobering to go into the quiet of the Magic Club. About twenty people had gathered at the club for Taft’s memorial service. On stage, a blue spotlight gleamed on a black stool. On top of the stool was a pack of cards and a broken wand. I came in as WizBoy was finishing his eulogy.

  “Taft was a great guy and a great magician. I’ll miss him.”

  I sat down at the bar. Jilly, dressed in black lace, sat at the far end. She didn’t look my way. Bart and Fancy shared a table. Jolly Bob sat with Lucas Finch at another.

  Rahnee was next on stage. The blue lights made her hair an odd purple shade. She looked as if she’d been crying.

  “This club won’t be the same without Taft. He was a wonderful person. Everyone loved his act, and everyone loved him.”

  She went on about how loved Taft was. Well, it was entirely possible somebody in this group didn’t love Taft. I watched faces as people listened. Jolly Bob gave Rahnee his complete attention. Jilly sat with her head down. Fancy brushed tears from her cheeks. Bart looked uncomfortable, as if he’d rather be somewhere else. Lucas had no expression.

  When Rahnee finished, she invited others to speak. Fancy went on stage.

  “Taft was one of the nicest men I’ve ever known. He was also one of the most generous. I can’t tell you how many times he helped me with a trick, or showed me how an illusion worked. I don’t think I’d have much of a career if it hadn’t been for Taft.”