by Nora Roberts
Facing Luke again, she smiled, skimmed her hands over the scarves once more, as a woman might stroke a cat, then taking the end, she whirled them over her head. She laughed in triumph as she wound the tied scarves around her shoulders.
“Well done.” Max scooped her up to kiss her. “Quite well done.”
“She’s a pistol, Max,” Lester called out. “You ought to let her try it out in front of a crowd.”
“What do you say, Roxanne?” Max stroked a hand over her hair as he set her down. “Ready to try a solo?”
“Can I?” Her heart leaped into her eyes. “Daddy, please, can I?”
“We’ll try it out in the first show, then we’ll see.”
She let out a shriek and raced to Lily. “Can I wear earrings? Real ones? Can I?”
She smiled at Max over Roxanne’s head. “You can pick out the ones you like best.”
“The ones in the window down the street. The blue ones.”
“Take twenty minutes, Lily,” Max suggested. “A woman needs at least that much time to choose accessories for her costume.” And he wanted a moment alone with Luke.
“So.” As Roxanne dragged Lily out, Max picked up a deck of cards. He began to do one-handed cuts. “You’re wondering why a little girl can do something you can’t.”
Luke flushed, but his chin stayed up. “I can learn anything she can.”
“Possibly.” To entertain himself, Max fanned the cards. “I could tell you it’s a mistake to use her, or anyone, as a yardstick for yourself. But you wouldn’t listen.”
“You could teach me.”
“I could,” Max agreed.
“I already know some. I’ve been practicing.”
“Indeed.” Raising a brow, Max offered the cards. “Show me.”
Nerves dampened his fingertips as Luke shuffled the cards. “It won’t be as good, because you know how I’ll do it.”
“Ah, there you’re wrong. A magician’s best audience is another magician. Because they understand the purpose. Do you?”
“To do a trick,” Luke responded, struggling to concentrate on the cards.
“As simple as that? Sit,” Max suggested. Once they were seated at one of the tables, he chose a card from the pack Luke held out. “Anyone can learn to do a trick. It only takes an understanding of how it works, and a basic skill that can be refined with practice. But magic.” He glanced at the card, then slipped it back into the pack. “Magic is taking what’s real and what’s not, and blending them into one, for a short period. It’s causing someone who doesn’t believe to blink in amazement. It’s giving people what they want.”
“What do they want?” Luke shuffled the cards, tapped the top, then turned over Max’s card. His heart swelled at Max’s nod of approval.
“Excellent. Do another.” He sat back as Luke fumbled through a one-handed cut. “What do they want? To be duped, to be fooled, and amazed. To watch the astounding happen under their nose.” Max opened his hand and showed Luke a small red ball. “Right before their eyes.” He slapped the ball on the table, then took his other hand from under the wood. The ball was there, his other hand empty. Luke grinned and set the cards for Aces High.
“You palmed it,” Luke said. “I know you did, but I didn’t see.”
“Because I looked at you, in your eyes. So you looked in mine. Always look them in the eye. Innocently, smugly, however you choose. But look them in the eye. This makes an illusion honest.”
“A trick’s a cheat, isn’t it?”
“Only if you can’t make them enjoy the deception.” He nodded again when Luke drew the four aces from the top of the shuffled deck. “Your mechanics are good, but where is your flair? Where is that drama that tells the audience it’s not simply a well-practiced trick, but magic? Again,” he said, shoving the cards toward Luke. “Astound me.”
Max watched the concentration come into Luke’s eyes, heard the two deep indrawn breaths as he prepared.
“I want to do the first one again.”
“All right. Let me hear your patter.”
Luke’s color came up, but he cleared his throat and dived in. He’d been practicing for weeks. “I’d like to show you a few card tricks.” He did a fair Russian shuffle, and a snappy turnover. “Now, not many magicians will tell you what they’re going to do beforehand. But I’m just a kid. I don’t know any better.” He fanned the cards face out toward his imaginary audience so they could identify it as an ordinary deck. “I’m going to ask this gentleman here to pick a card, any card at all.” Luke spread the cards facedown on the table, waited a beat while Max reached for one. “That one?” he said and looked uneasy. “You sure you want that one?”
Playing along, Max inclined his head. “Indeed I do.”
“You sure you wouldn’t rather take this one?” Luke tapped the end card. “No?” He swallowed audibly when Max held firm. “Okay. Remember, I’m just a kid. If you’d show the card to the audience. Make sure I don’t see it,” Luke added as he tried to crane his neck to get a glimpse of the card. “Good.” His voice shook. “I guess you can put it back in, anywhere, anywhere at all. Then you can shuffle them—unless you want me to,” he asked hopefully as he gathered the cards.
“No, I believe I’ll do it myself.”
“Terrific.” He heaved a sigh. “Once they’re shuffled, I’ll cut the cards and magically reveal the one this fine gentleman chose.” He reached in his pocket, pulled out an invisible handkerchief and wiped his brow. “I think that’s enough. Really, really, you’ve done enough.” Luke snatched the deck back. After setting it on the table, he waved his hands over it and mumbled. “Almost got it. And!” He cut the cards and held one up in triumph. At the gentle shake of Max’s head, he looked crestfallen. “That’s not it? I was sure I did this right. Hold on a minute.” He set the cards back, mumbled over them again, and again chose incorrectly.
“Something must be wrong with this deck. I don’t think your card’s there at all. I think you cheated.” He rose, incensed, and stalked toward the audience. “And someone out here must be working with you. You there.” He pointed a finger at Lester, who was busily taking bets. “Come on, give it up.”
“Give what up, kid?”
“The card. I know you’ve got it.”
“Hey.” Lester cocked the phone on his shoulder and held up both hands. “I ain’t got no card, kid.”
“Oh no?” Luke reached down past Lester’s bulging belly under the waistband of his slacks and pulled out a nine of diamonds. “Guess you were just on your way to a poker game.”
While Lester howled with laughter, Luke held the card overhead for the audience to identify. “Thank you. Thank you. Hey, you’ve been a good sport,” he said to Lester. “Why don’t you stand up and take a bow.”
“Sure, kid, sure.” Amused, Lester rose. “You got an up-and-comer here, Max. You sure as hell do.”
The compliment had Luke beaming. But it was nothing, nothing compared to hearing Max laugh.
“Now.” Max rose to drop a hand on Luke’s shoulder. “That’s showmanship. Let’s see if we can work it into the act.”
Luke’s jaw dropped to his knees. “No shit?”
Max ruffled Luke’s hair, pleased that the boy didn’t stiffen at the touch. “No shit.”
It wasn’t a long trip from New Orleans to Lafayette. With Mouse at the wheel of the dark sedan, Max could sit back, close his eyes and prepare. Stealing wasn’t so different from performing. Or it had never been for him. When he had first begun, so many years ago, he’d blended the two skills. That had been a matter of survival.
Now, older, more mature, he separated his performances from his thievery. That, too, was survival. As his name became more well known, it would have been reckless to steal from his audience.
Max was not a reckless man.
Some might have pointed out that he no longer had to steal to keep food in his belly or a roof over his head. Max would have agreed. He also would have added that not only was it difficult to brea
k a habit of such long standing, particularly when he was so skilled, but he enjoyed stealing.
As a child who had been abused, abandoned and unloved, stealing had been a matter of control, and of defiance.
Now, it was a matter of pride.
He was, quite simply, one of the best. And he considered himself gracious enough to choose his marks carefully, taking only from those who could afford to lose.
It was rare for him to work this close to home. Max considered it not only risky but messy. Still, rules were made to be broken.
With his eyes shut, he could conjure the flash and beauty of the aquamarine and diamond necklace. All that icy blue and white. For himself, he preferred hot gems. Rubies, sapphires, deep, rich colors that held passion as well as glory. But personal taste often had to be set aside for practicality. If his information was correct, those emerald-cut aquamarines would bring a hefty sum once they were popped free of their setting.
LeClerc already had a buyer.
Even after the tithe, and expenses, Max calculated there would be a nice chunk left over for Roxanne’s college fund, and for the one he’d recently started for Luke.
He smiled to himself. Irony rarely escaped him. He was a thief who worried about interest rates and mutual funds.
Too many hungry years had taught him the value of investments. His children wouldn’t go hungry, and they would have a choice over which path they took.
“This is the corner, Max.”
Max opened his eyes and noted that Mouse had the car idling at the curb. It was a quiet neighborhood, tree-lined, with big, elegant houses shielded by leaves and flowering shrubs.
“Ah, yes. The time?”
Mouse checked his watch as Max did. “Two-ten.”
“Good.”
“The alarm system’s really basic. You just snip both red wires. But if you’re not sure, I can come do it for you.”
“Thank you, Mouse.” Max pulled on thin black gloves. “I believe I can handle it. If the safe is as LeClerc led me to believe, I’ll need only seven or eight minutes to open it. Meet me back here at precisely two-thirty. If I’m more than five minutes late, you leave.” When Mouse only grumbled, Max tapped his shoulder. “I have to be able to count on you for that.”
“You’ll be back,” Mouse said and hunched down in the seat.
“And we’ll be several thousand dollars richer.” Max slipped from the car and faded into the shadows.
Half a block down, he vaulted over a low stone wall. There were no lights on in the three-story brick house, but he made a circuit just to be sure before locating the alarm box. Once the red wires were snipped, he didn’t hesitate. Mouse was never wrong.
He took his glass cutter and suction cup from the soft leather pouch at his waist. Clouds dancing over the moon kept the light shifting, but he needed none at all. If he’d been struck blind, Max could have found his way in or out of a locked door.
There was a quiet click as he reached in and undid the latch. Then silence. As always, he listened to it, let it cloak him before he stepped inside.
He could never describe to anyone the feeling that rose inside him each and every time he stepped into a dark, quiet house. It was a kind of power, he supposed, in being where you weren’t supposed to be, and going undiscovered.
Silent as a shadow, he slipped through the kitchen, into the dining room and into the hall.
His heart beat fast. A pleasant feeling, one he knew was similar to the anticipation of good sex.
He found the library exactly where LeClerc had told him it would be, and the safe, hidden behind a false door.
With a penlight clamped between his teeth and a stethoscope pressed near the lock, Max went to work.
He was enjoying the job. The library smelled faintly of overblown roses and cherry tobacco. A light breeze was tapping the branches of a chestnut against the window. He imagined, if he had the time, he’d find a brandy decanter close by and could indulge in a sip or two before going on his way.
The third of the four tumblers fell into place, with eight minutes to spare. Then he heard the whimpering.
Braced to run, he turned slowly. Using the penlight, he scanned toward the sound. A puppy, no more than a few weeks old, stood watching him. With another whimper, he squatted and piddled on the Turkish carpet.
“A little too late to ask me to let you out,” Max murmured. “And I’m sorry, but I can’t afford the time to clean up after you. You’ll just have to take your lumps in the morning.”
Max worked on the fourth tumbler as the pup waddled over to sniff his shoes. With a satisfied sigh, he opened the safe.
“Fortunately for me, I didn’t plan this job a year from now, when you’d be big enough to take a bite out of me. Though I do have a scar on my rump from a poodle not much bigger than you.”
He bypassed stock certificates and opened a velvet box. The aquamarines gleamed up at him. Using the penlight and a jeweler’s loupe, he checked the stones, gave a satisfied sigh.
“Lovely, aren’t they?” He slid them out of the box and into his pouch.
As he bent to give the puppy a farewell pat on the head, he heard the rustle on the stairs. “Frisky?” It was a female voice, pitched to a stage whisper. “Frisky, are you down here?”
“Frisky?” Max said under his breath, giving the dog a sympathetic stroke. “Some of us are forced to rise above our names.” He clicked the safe shut, then faded back into the shadows.
A middle-aged woman with her hair in a sleep net and her face gleaming with night cream tiptoed into the room. The puppy whined, slapped his tail on the rug, then started in Max’s direction.
“There you are! Mama’s baby!” Less than a foot away from Max, she scooped the dog up. “What have you been up to? You naughty dog.” She gave him loud kisses as the pup tried to wriggle away. “Are you hungry? Are you hungry, honey bunny? Let’s give you a nice bowl of milk.”
Max closed his eyes, wholeheartedly on the side of the dog, who yipped and tried to gain his freedom. But the woman clung tight, bundling Frisky to her breast as she started out toward the kitchen.
Since that meant Max couldn’t get out the way he’d come in, he eased up a window. If his luck held, she would be too involved with the pup to notice the nice, neat hole in the beveled glass kitchen door.
If it didn’t, Max mused as he tossed a leg out the window, he’d still have a head start.
He closed the window after him and did his best not to trample the pansies.
Luke couldn’t sleep. The idea of performing the next night had him tied up in knots of exhilaration and terror. The what-ifs plagued him.
What if he fumbled. What if he forgot the trick. What if the audience thought he was just a dumb kid.
He could be good. He knew that inside him was the potential to be really good. But so many years of being told he was stupid, worthless, good for nothing, had left their mark.
For Luke there was only one way to deal with insomnia. That was food. He still believed the best time to feast was when no one was around to tell him not to.
He pulled on a pair of cutoffs and moved silently downstairs. Images of LeClerc’s barbecued pork and pecan pie waltzed through his head.
The sound of LeClerc’s voice made him stop, and swear. He was far from sure of the old man. But when he heard Max’s laugh, he crept closer.
“Your information is always reliable, Jean. The blueprints, the safe, the gems.” Max cupped a brandy in one hand, the jewels in the other. “I can’t complain overmuch about one small dog.”
“They didn’t have a dog last week. Not even five days ago.”
“They have one now.” Max laughed and drank more brandy. “Who hasn’t been housebroken.”
“Thank the Virgin he didn’t bark.” LeClerc added bourbon to his coffee. “I don’t like surprises.”
“There we part ways. I like them very much.” And the light of success glowed in Max’s eyes, even as the necklace shimmered in the overhead light. “Othe
rwise, a job would become routine. And routine too easily becomes a rut. So, will they miss them by morning, do you think?” He held the necklace up, letting gems drip through his fingers. “And will the fact that these were payment for a gambling debt prevent them from reporting the loss?”
“Reported or not, they won’t be traced here.” LeClerc started to raise his coffee cup in toast, then stopped. His eyes narrowed as he set it on the table. “I’m afraid the walls have at least two ears tonight.”
Alerted, Max glanced up, then sighed. “Luke.” He said the name, and gestured toward the shadows. “Come into the light.” He waited, gauging the boy’s face as Luke walked into the kitchen. “You’re up late.”
“I couldn’t sleep.” Despite his attempt not to, Luke couldn’t stop himself from staring at the necklace. It was a matter of trust, pure trust, that allowed him to look back at Max and speak. “You stole them.”