by Mary Daheim
Feeling confident, Judith stood up, turned around, and let out a yelp. “Coz!” she exclaimed. “You scared me! Why do you keep creeping up on me like some demented stalker?”
“I don’t,” Renie said, put off by the accusation. “I’ve been standing here for five minutes, waiting for you to come out of your trance.”
“Oh.” Judith uttered a foolish little laugh. “Sorry. But I’ve got it.”
Renie grinned. “You do? Great! Whodunit?”
Judith opened her mouth, but stopped. “I’m not sure I should tell you. I mean, it’s because of the bet between Joe and me. Anyway, you’ll know soon enough.”
Renie kicked at some pebbles. “Damn, damn, damn! See? It’s exactly what I said. What’s the point of me hanging around and watching you think? Instead, I won four hundred dollars on a Beaver machine.”
“Good for you.” Judith checked the time. “It’s five-twenty. I lost track. But I’ll make the six o’clock deadline.”
“I had to line up three beaver dams,” Renie said. “I figured the machine would be lucky because kids made fun of my big teeth in grade school and called me Bucky.”
“It’s been a handicap,” Judith asserted, “being almost completely out of the loop on this case. Plus, I haven’t had that many opportunities to talk to the suspects. The more they say, the more they reveal.”
“I’d already won fifty bucks by getting three beaver tails in a row,” Renie recalled. “That’s when I really sensed that Bucky could be hot.”
“The thing is,” Judith said as they started up the trail, “that after I considered the personalities and the possible motives, it all came down to one person.”
“I hit the dams just before five,” Renie said, “and the machine pays out only the first four hundred of the sixteen hundred quarters. I had to wait to get the rest in cash. That’s why I was late coming to get you.”
“Now what should I do?” Judith muttered as they approached the casino’s rear entrance. “Go up to the room and see if Joe’s there, or just hang out in the casino and meet him by the cashier’s window at six?”
“One of the employees told me that the machine was fairly new and nobody had hit the jackpot until I did,” Renie remarked as they went inside. “I drew quite a crowd.”
“The other question is, should I notify someone, like Jack Jackrabbit?” Judith wondered. “He’d have to promise not to tell Joe, but at least Jack would be on guard in case there might be another victim.”
“I remember,” Renie said as they passed a couple coming from the resort’s gym, “years ago when we were in Reno, I was the first one to get a jackpot on a San Francisco machine at Harrah’s. I lined up the three sections of the Golden Gate Bridge.”
“Coz!” Judith barked. “You haven’t heard a word I’ve said!”
“Huh?” Renie blinked at Judith. “I have, too. Besides, you weren’t listening to me. In fact, you weren’t talking to me. You were talking to yourself.” She took Judith by the arm. “Go write down your solution and have it ready to put in the safe. Then call up to the room to see if Joe’s there. If not, we’ll wait. How’s that?”
Judith stopped in the hallway that led to the lobby. “Okay.”
She found a notepad at the front desk. Huge placards advertising Mandolini’s return seemed to be everywhere. Motioning for Renie to back off so her cousin couldn’t see the paper, Judith wrote down the killer’s name and slipped the single sheet into her purse.
“Five thirty-five,” she stated. “Let’s wander over to the cashier’s.”
By chance, they walked past the yellow Corvette with its smiling blond mannequin. Judith shuddered. Then she took a second look. Next to the blonde behind the wheel was a figure in the passenger seat—a pretty woman with stunning red hair.
The redhead bore a remarkable resemblance to Micki Mendoza.
Shaken, Judith sat down on a chair across the aisle from the ’Vette display. Renie had turned pale. “Gruesome,” she declared. “Is that part of the promotion for tonight’s performance or somebody’s idea of a joke?”
“Either way, it’s ghoulish,” Judith said, feeling both upset and angry. “Let’s get out of here. We can wait by the cashier’s cage.”
They didn’t have to wait long. At five to six, Joe appeared, looking uncommonly jaunty.
“Hey,” he called to Judith, “you ready to bet your life?”
“I feel as if it’s more like ‘bet your wife,’” Judith retorted. She didn’t smile; she was still disturbed by the mannequins in the Corvette. But she reached into her purse and took out the slip of paper. “I’ve got it.”
Joe’s face fell a notch. “You have?” He shrugged. “Okay, let’s get an envelope and put it in a safe place. Do you want me to fill out the forms?”
“What forms?” Judith asked.
Joe waved in the direction of the cashiers’ windows. “You have to sign up to get a box in the safe.”
Judith’s face was stiff. “I already did.”
“Oh?” Joe shrugged again. “Go ahead. I’ll watch.”
To Judith’s relief, Dolly wasn’t on duty. A young Asian man whose name tag identified him as “Sidney” was behind the window. At least Judith would avoid having Dolly ask if she’d won another bonanza. Joe didn’t need to know about her earnings just yet.
Joe, however, was curious. After he’d watched Judith put the killer’s name into an envelope and sign for it, he asked why she already had a box.
Judith never minded telling a fib for a good cause. “Mother didn’t feel secure about wearing her engagement diamond in a gambling establishment,” she replied, ignoring Renie’s incredulous look, “so I put the ring in the safe for her.” Joe wouldn’t have noticed or remembered that Gertrude hadn’t worn her engagement ring for some time because of arthritis.
“Okay.” Joe rubbed his hands together. “Let’s go upstairs and change.” He turned to Renie. “I almost forgot. I ran into Bill and asked if you two would like to attend the show tonight. He said it was up to you, but he wouldn’t mind seeing how Freddy performs under great duress. A case study, I suppose. We’ll have to postpone the free dinner in the Johnny-Jump-Up Room. Anyway, are you in? I already got you comps.”
“Sure,” Renie said. “Same time, same place? Drinks in the Winter Bar at seven?”
“You got it,” Joe said as he put his arm around Judith. “You going up now?” he asked Renie.
She shook her head. “Not quite yet. I’d sort of like to hit the beavers again.”
The Flynns parted company with Renie. When the elevator doors opened on their floor, they were confronted by Gertrude and Aunt Deb in their red and yellow wheelchairs.
“Move it, twerps,” Gertrude ordered. “We’ve got places to go and chicken to eat.”
“We can’t be late for the social hour,” Aunt Deb said with a smile. “It’d be rude.”
Judith and Joe edged around the wheelchairs. “Have a wonderful time,” Judith said to the old ladies, who were racing each other into the elevator.
“Break a leg. Or a hip,” Joe called out as the elevator doors closed.
“Joe! That’s a terrible thing to say!” Judith scowled at her husband. “Deep down, don’t you find them incredible?”
“As in I can’t believe they’re real?” Joe snorted. “I guess so. In a weird kind of way.”
“You’re awful,” Judith said as they went into their room.
Joe glanced at Judith to see if she was kidding. She wasn’t. “Well, there goes my chance for a passionate preprandial rendezvous.”
“Your chance for that went out the window with your wager,” Judith declared. “I’m still irked. Besides, I want to hear about what happened at Hillside Manor this morning.”
“Everything went off on schedule,” Joe replied, obviously disgruntled by Judith’s rejection. “Furnace, countertop stove, rewiring—I don’t know why you have such problems with Bart Bednarik. He seems pretty easy to deal with as far as I’m concerned.”
“Male bonding,” Judith muttered. “That’s great,” she added in a louder voice. “So everything will be ready when we get back Saturday?”
“It looks that way,” Joe said, heading into the bathroom. “Unless you figure out how to screw it up again.” He slammed the door behind him.
Judith happened to glance in the mirror over the dresser. She looked tired, irritable, and unattractive. The evening was getting off to a bad start.
Even after Judith and Joe had readied themselves, the icy atmosphere between them seemed fitting for a meeting with Renie and Bill in the Winter Bar. Indeed, the Joneses, who had arrived first, sensed the chill immediately.
“If either of you has bruises,” Renie stated, “don’t show them to me. I’m in a good mood. Bucky Beaver pooped out on me, but I won another two hundred bucks on a Wild Bird machine. I lined up three cedar waxwings.”
“Great,” said Judith.
“Terrific,” said Joe.
“Franz Kafka,” said Bill.
“Huh?” chorused the Flynns.
“Kafka,” Bill repeated. “Gloom. Doom. Total despair. That’s what you both act like.”
“Sorry,” Joe said, summoning the waiter. “My lovely bride seems to have overextended herself. She forgot she was on vacation.” He shot Judith a dirty look.
“I’m not prone to argue,” Judith retorted.
“You’re not prone to do much of anything,” Joe shot back.
“Kiddies!” Renie cried, waving her hands. “Stop it! We’re supposed to be having fun.” With one hand, she picked up the candle that illuminated their table. With the other, she held the bar menu. “Kiss and make up or I’ll set the goodies list on fire.”
Judith and Joe stared at each other for a long time. Renie ignited the menu’s corner. Bill, with the expression of a man who has suffered greatly for the cause of marriage, remained stoic. But Judith snatched the menu out of Renie’s hand and dipped the burning corner in her cousin’s glass of ice water.
“You idiot!” Judith cried as the fire was doused. “Leave the burning tricks to Freddy and Lloyd.” She glared at Renie, then turned to Joe. “Okay. Let’s be nice.”
The Flynns exchanged pecks. Judith tried to smile; Joe gave their cocktail orders to the waiter, who had a wary eye on Renie.
The tension remained, however, even after the drinks were finished and the foursome headed into the cabaret. Judith—a true Libra—could see both sides of the quarrel. She knew why she was angry, she knew why Joe was mad. But she wasn’t ready to give in. Not until she proved that she’d identified the killer.
The rest of the audience was in a much better mood, exuding an air of anticipation. Once again, the Flynns and the Joneses were given a ringside table. Apparently, it was theirs to keep. Inga Polson and Grisly Vanderbehr sat a half dozen tables away, accompanied by Pancho Green and Doc Engelman. During the entrée, Judith spotted Manny Quinn, sitting toward the back. He was at a table for two with a woman Judith didn’t recognize. Only G. D. Fromm seemed to be absent from the gathering. There were, however, a number of familiar faces Judith recognized from the previous performance as well as from the casino. The hasty but grandiose advertising campaign for the Great Mandolini’s farewell appearance had obviously paid off.
Twenty minutes later, when the dessert plates had been whisked away, the houselights dimmed. Pancho left his seat and went up on the stage, waiting for the crowd to quiet.
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” Pancho began. “This evening you are in for an unprecedented experience in the art of illusion. Despite the terrible losses suffered this week by the Great Mandolini, he is a veteran performer who truly believes that the show must go on.”
A murmur of high anticipation passed through the audience. Judith shifted uncomfortably in her chair. Joe and Bill kept their eyes fixed on Pancho. Renie brushed crumbs and other debris from her wine-colored evening ensemble.
“There will be no opening act tonight,” Pancho continued. “Instead, let me present a real trouper, the Great Mandolini.”
Houselights down. Drum roll. A hush throughout the room. Renie choking on a sip of water. Bill slapping her hard on the back. The curtain slowly rising. The empty stage. The eerie sound of Lloyd Watts’s theremin in the background. A single spotlight.
A rabbit dashed out of the wings, made a complete circle, and sat in the spotlight. The stage went dark for the blink of an eye. The lights came back on. The rabbit had disappeared. The Great Mandolini stood in its place. Excited applause burst from the onlookers.
“Ha!” Renie said under her breath. “I can figure that one out from what G. D. Fromm told me. The spotlight was moved. Freddy was there all along.”
Bill scowled at his wife. “Keep it to yourself. Everybody else had to pay to get in.”
“Tough,” Renie retorted, but she shut up.
Maybe it was Judith’s mood, but the next series of illusions didn’t strike her as very innovative. Almost all of them were variations on objects disappearing and reappearing or birds and small animals showing up in unusual ways. Lloyd Watts seemed to be an able, if un charismatic, assistant. The audience seemed restless, exchanging whispers and moving about in their seats.
As for Freddy, Judith thought he looked much better than when she had visited him in his suite. Of course, he was wearing heavy stage makeup. But there was nothing tentative or unsteady about his demeanor. Freddy’s ability to focus completely on his performance undoubtedly carried him through.
After about an hour, there was a brief intermission. Waiters roamed the tables, taking after-dinner drink orders. Judith twisted around in her chair to observe Inga and the rest of her party.
“Fifty, if she’s a day,” Judith whispered to Renie. “I misjudged her age, probably because I assumed Freddy’s so-called sister couldn’t be too much older than he is.”
“They all look a bit grim,” Renie responded. “Of course Grisly always does. Even Doc seems off his feed. Only Pancho is acting like his usual suave self.”
Judith turned in the other direction to look to the rear of the cabaret. Manny Quinn and his female companion sat in stony silence. Judith wondered who the woman was. From such a distance, it was difficult to make out her features except for her short dark hair and a high-necked black dress.
As the houselights dimmed, Pancho returned to the stage. “What you are about to see is an illusion never before performed anywhere in the world. This is a truly death-defying act. The Great Mandolini and his assistant, Lloyd Watts, will lock themselves in separate cages, each containing a fierce leopard. In the wilds, the leopard’s favorite food is the wild monkey. Our two courageous gentlemen have been sprayed with a monkey scent that will make them vulnerable to the fierce leopard’s taste buds. This is not an illusion for the squeamish. If you’d prefer not to be a spectator for this first-time event, feel free to leave the cabaret.”
Pancho stepped down as another murmur raced among the audience. Five people—two women, two children, and a man—rose from their seats and made their exit.
“Yuk!” Renie exclaimed. “This sounds kind of terrible. Maybe I should get out of here. The only time I don’t mind seeing real blood is when it belongs to one of my graphic-design competitors.”
“Come on, coz,” Judith urged, “you know that Freddy and Lloyd aren’t actually going to get eaten alive.”
Renie moved closer to Bill. “I’ll close my eyes.” She clung to her husband’s arm. “Tell me when it’s okay to look, just like you do at the movies.”
The curtain went up to reveal two steel cages. Each held a prowling leopard some six feet long. As the stage lights struck their eyes, they let out deep, frightening growls.
“Real teeth,” Renie said, moving even closer to Bill. “Bigger than mine.”
“But not as scary,” Bill murmured.
After a pause, Freddy and Lloyd emerged from opposite sides of the stage. They were no longer dressed in tuxedos, but costumes made to resemble monkey fur. Slow
ly, they moved toward the cages. The audience was completely quiet. Even Renie kept her mouth shut.
In unison, the two men opened the cage doors with keys on large silver rings. They stepped inside and locked the cages before tossing the keys out through the bars. The leopards continued to growl.
Freddy and Lloyd did a little dance, as if to taunt the beasts. Both leopards drew back to survey their prey. The men made shrieking noises, imitating monkey cries. The big cats crouched, snarled, and narrowed their eyes. Then, with lightning movements, they pounced.
The stage was plunged into darkness. The audience came alive with voices of fear, excitement, and a few nervous giggles. Judith couldn’t help herself. She grabbed Joe’s hand and held it tight.
The stage lights came on again.
The leopards were gone. Freddy and Lloyd stood in the locked cages, now wearing their tuxedoes. Each man had a beautiful woman on his arm.
One was Sally. The other was Micki.
They smiled and waved at the crowd.
Judith fainted.
TWENTY-ONE
AMID THE APPLAUSE and cheers, Judith numbly accepted a sip of water from Joe’s glass. Slowly, she turned to look at the stage. Apparently, she had blacked out for only a second or two. Freddy, Lloyd, Sally, and Micki were taking curtain calls in response to the thunderous ovation. All four of them looked hale and hearty.
Judith stared coldly at Joe. “I hate you,” she said. Without another word, she rose from her chair and stalked out of the cabaret.
Apparently, word of the unique illusion—and resurrection—had already leaked onto the casino floor. Small groups were clustered near the slot machines, laughing and talking. The word passed among the blackjack tables, the roulette wheels, the craps games. No doubt, Judith thought bitterly, the news had spread to the sports book. Instead of the latest NBA victory, the board probably read “Mandolini 117, Fatso 0.”
Judith finally reached the entrance to the casino. It had started to rain, but she didn’t care. She marched down the stone steps, almost colliding with a couple of newly arrived guests. Or suckers, she thought angrily. She’d certainly been played for one.
