Blackjack Magic Murder (The Dead Ex Files Book 3)

by Claire Kane

  “Sure. He’s just pretending he didn’t ask you to a dinner date in your own suite. You know where he’s going to take this.”

  “Won’t you have a seat, Pietr,” Lacey said, adopting overly formal airs simply to annoy her guardian angel.

  “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing, Lacey,” Victor said. “I can read you like a book.”

  Then read this, she replied, envisioning herself holding the door open and jabbing a finger at the open doorway.

  “Y-you’re kicking me out?”

  Please don’t make this harder than it has to be, Victor. You’re taking this “Guardian Angel” thing a bit too far. Can’t a girl even talk to a man on her own without the morality police interfering? She crossed to the wet bar and began rummaging through the mini-fridge. “Care for a drink?” she asked, raising her eyebrows at her guest.

  “The Chardonnay,” Ross replied, “is on its way. I suppose I… may have been overzealous in my attempt to be prompt.” His cheeks took on a hint of pink and he scratched at the back of his head, then winced.

  Victor glared at the German performer. “I don’t trust this—”

  You don’t trust anyone Victor, Lacey shot back. Especially men who so much as look at me.

  “Greg,” he mentioned her former boss. “Or Jack? Need I say more?”

  Need I say anything at all? she demanded, changing her mental image to one of her shoving Victor out into the hallway and slamming the door shut.

  His jaw dropped. He stared at Lacey for a long moment. At last, he closed his mouth, and made his way toward the door, doing his best to keep his head high and his shoulders squared. He paused on the threshold and tried in vain to catch her gaze. “I’m sorry, Lacey. You enjoy your evening.” And with that he vanished.

  Lacey sighed. She knew Victor would probably sulk about it for a while, but he was a big boy and would get over it. Eventually. Right now, she had an investigation to complete, and some surprisingly pleasant company even if her neck still hurt like mad. She fished out a bottle of white wine—a good vintage—and poured herself a glass without thinking. Setting the bottle back in the rack, she crossed to the supple sectional and sat across from her guest.

  Ross raised his eyebrows at the wine. “Eager to start the evening, are we?”

  Lacey nearly blushed, but there was no innuendo in his tone, so she smiled instead. “I’m sure this won’t ruin the Chardonnay,” she said, taking a sniff, then a sip. It was a good wine. “You sure I can’t get you a glass?”

  He shook his head. “I’ve very few vices, but one of them is being very picky in what I drink.” He gestured at her glass. “The hotel stocks good liquor; I stock better liquor. We Germans know a thing or two about brewing. And don’t forget, we once owned France.”

  Lacey’s smile froze at the awkward remark, but Ross broke the tension by leaning forward. “Before we get started, I learned something that may interest you.”

  “Oh?”

  The magician nodded. “Fredrik Neiburg. Does the name mean anything to you?”

  Lacey narrowed her eyes in thought. “Something about that sounds familiar, but I’m not quite placing it.”

  “Animal rights activist. One of the ones who disrupted my show, the other evening, along with his primary associate, one Moon-Amber Donovan.”

  “Ah. Yes! Your security guard knew his name. Could you please spell it for the record?”

  Ross continued. “Mister Neiburg has caused quite the stir in his young life, apparently. He’s somehow managed to gather quite the following on social media, and even has connections around the globe. It would seem, from what I’ve learned, that he has been aiming to bring down my and my brother’s show for some time now. Until recently, however, his attempts have been unsuccessful. Then, he managed to get his group into our theater and cause that little disruption.”

  He grew hesitant. “If… my sources are to be believed, we are fortunate that the incident involved little more than angry words.”

  Lacey felt her chest tighten. “Tell me.”

  He shook his head. “I did not come to spoil your evening with tales of troubled souls. Besides, you’ve come here for a purpose, Fräulein.”

  “Lacey.”

  He smiled tightly. “I will be frank with you: I would like to know what that purpose is.”

  Lacey returned his smile, somewhat disappointed. She examined him again—he really was stunningly handsome, and he’d been so kind to her the entire time she’d been here. She knew nothing would happen between them, but she still liked to be a little crossed in love, once in a while. But no, he was right. This was purely professional. She straightened, and brushed a wrinkle out of her blouse. “Since we’re being so frank, let me say that this is an opportunity for me. One I’m very interested in taking.”

  He cocked an eyebrow, then coughed suddenly, a pained expression on his face.

  Lacey took a longer sip of her wine, then set the snifter on an end table. “I’m not presently a full-time reporter for KZTB Seattle. I used to be, but I quit after a… strident disagreement with a former manager who was into illegal things.” Both of Ross’ eyebrows shot up at that. “A story for another time,” she said. “I wish I hadn’t had to leave that job. It’s what I loved—especially the investigative part. That’s why I’m presently self-employed as a private investigator.”

  “Ah,” Ross said, nodding thoughtfully. “So, you decided that if you investigated something of enough import, that you could impress your former employers. Revenge, perhaps? Spite?”

  Lacey shook her head. “Neither, actually. My former manager… quit… and I would like my old job back. I have a friend at the network who offered me a chance. My being here, digging into this story, is part of getting that chance.”

  Ross smiled wide. “Your financial success depends on how well you invade the privacy of my brother and me?” Lacey opened her mouth to speak, but could only sputter. Ross laughed heartily, and his smile was genuine. “There, there, Lacey, a good sense of humor is healthy for the soul. I do not take your questions personally.”

  Lacey’s face actually did flush, and she reached for her glass again. A knock at the door caught her attention. Ross rose quickly and answered the door.

  A hotel porter in very formal attire stood at the door, carrying a silver tray with a silver bucket of ice, two crystal flutes and a bottle that, to Lacey, looked like a year’s rent for her. “Your wine, sir,” the porter said.

  Ross gestured toward the patio. “The table, if you please.”

  The porter nodded and made his way out onto the covered balcony. He set up the drink and flutes like a work of art, then accepted a tip Ross palmed him; Lacey could only imagine how much money was involved. With a final thank you, the performer dismissed the porter, then waved for Lacey to join him outside.

  Lacey collected her purse and her drink, then stood, careful not to move her neck too much as she crossed to the outdoor, glass-topped table. Sure enough, the patio was climate controlled as Ross had said. She found that it was perfectly comfortable, and the view every bit as eye-catching as the night before. Ross helped seat her, then scooted his chair up immediately next to her.

  “Here we are, my dear,” he said, pulling the two flutes from the tray and placing one in front of her. “You may not want to finish your drink after you’ve had this.” He poured a glass for each of them, but when the German raised his glass to toast she met his glass with her snifter.

  “Let’s just say I appreciate a variety of vintages,” she said. “It’d be a shame to waste this. I’ll think of it as a warm-up to the better brand.”

  Ross grinned. “You are a rare and amusing woman, Lacey. You are put up in a fine room at the expense of a Las Vegas entertainer, then offered some of the finest champagne available by that same host, and still you hold to your decisions. I find that admirably strong.” He raised his glass and tipped his head to her. Lacey smoothed out the spike of defensiveness she felt, and raised her glass i
n return.

  He sipped, then leaned forward, locking eyes with her. “I… have an admission to make.”

  She blinked, surprised at the color his cheeks had suddenly taken on. At once, her heart started to beat a little faster. “Oh?”

  He leaned forward and placed a hand on hers. Warmth spread through her arm and into her chest and neck. “I must admit that you’re unlike the many other women I have encountered in my time. And believe me, it has been a great many women. I have… enjoyed our discussions thus far. I think, perhaps, that we could come to know one another better. Given time.”

  She swallowed and smiled, and added a tiny nod despite her whiplash. “I guess we’ll have to wait and see.” He smiled, seeming satisfied, and Lacey continued.

  “You told me earlier,” she said, “that you’d answer some of my questions in private. I’ve always been a ‘business before pleasure’ kind of girl, so if we may?” She rummaged through her purse setting several items on the table before finally retrieving her tablet, readying it to take notes.

  The blond magician’s eyebrows rose again. “That is a forty-five Magnum?”

  Lacey’s eyes followed his gaze to where her gun was now protruding from her bag, then looked back at him. “Let’s just say I’ve had to use it.”

  “May I… examine it?” he asked. Lacey shrugged and gestured at it. “Danke,” he said, gingerly prying it from the purse, then turning it over and over in his hands as he peered at it.

  “I’m surprised,” Lacey said. “You act as though you’ve never seen a forty-five before.”

  Ross grinned, but kept his eyes on the weapon. “Oh, I own several. I have a small, shall we say, fetish with firearms. I suppose it comes from my grandfather. Opa, he fought in the war, you see. Used to show me the intricacies of all manner of pistols and firearms.” His eyes flicked up to meet hers. “I guess there’s still that little boy in me that never lost his fascination for man’s ability to bend so much power to his will. I’m simply surprised that such a delicate thing as you packs that same level of power.” With that, he carefully set the gun back in her purse.

  “And now,” he said, “to your questions.”

  Lacey inhaled slowly. She could do this. She’d find whatever it was Cathy and KZTB thought there was to find, then give them a show of her own. They’d be begging her to come back within a week, and she wouldn’t be stuck pretending to flirt with gap-toothed truck drivers any more. “You were going to tell me about the presence of black magic in your show.”

  Ross winced as if struck, then laughed. “Straight to the point,” he said, leaning back in his chair. He drained his entire glass in a single gulp, grunted, and poured himself another. “You see,” he began, his eyes already beginning to glaze, “Ziggy and I started this as children, as we told you earlier. We were, well, more open to different ideas. Along with his tales of the war, our grandfather also told us old German fairytales—stories of magic and mystery. Me, being naive as I was, and certain that Opa wouldn’t lie to me, set out to find magic for myself. I started with simple tricks I learned from books. Ziggy and I would entertain the other children. But nothing like real magic ever seemed to find me.

  He leaned forward. “Until one day.”

  Lacey leaned in as well, eyes narrow, fingertips on her tablet. “Yes?”

  Ross mulled his thoughts for a moment, then met her eyes. “Do you believe in magic, fräulein?”

  Lacey’s eyebrows rose. “I’ve seen things that can’t be explained by natural means, so I suppose I might.”

  He nodded as if satisfied. “Good. Because I don’t tell this story to many people, and when I do they usually assume I’m merely advertising my show. So, please, I ask for your discretion in this matter.” He looked meaningfully at her tablet. She hesitated, then stood and set it on the table just out of arm’s reach before sitting again. He nodded again, clearly grateful.

  “I’m all ears,” Lacey said.

  “Well, then, no time like the present. First, I do not work in dark magiks. People use terms they do not understand because they are afraid of the unknown, so they naturally ascribe evil intentions. What I deal in is a safe, useful power. I do not use it to harm. The accusations that we used our arts on Fräulein Lockhart are simply untrue. There is no ‘black’ in my magic.”

  “So,” Lacey prompted, “how did you get into magic, then?”

  Ross licked his lips. “You see, one night—a very stormy one at that—Ziggy and I were in the attic at my mother’s house, practicing some new tricks. A local talent show was about to happen, and we saw an opportunity to broaden our reputations. Well, things were going as planned until I decided to try something I found in a large, strange book I had found in the attic just that evening. It purported to be a magical tome, and I thought that surely there would be something inside to help us.”

  He closed his eyes. “I’ll cut to the chase. Before the night was over, Ziggy was… levitating several feet above the floor. He was flying even. And that wasn’t the most interesting part.”

  Lacey leaned even further, feeling the pressure of the brace against the back of her skull. “What was it?”

  Ross looked around, examining shadows carefully. Finally, he leaned in and whispered in her ear, “After I said some words from the book, Ziggy disappeared.”

  Lacey jerked back in surprise, flinching as she felt the skin of her neck tugging at the stitches she’d received. “Would you care to elaborate?”

  Ross sat back and sighed in what sounded like relief. “I know how strange this must sound, Lacey. But for about the count of ten, he simply was not there in the attic. And when I next saw him, he was banging on a skylight that was still locked.”

  The handsome man sat back with a sigh and pursed his lips, eyes tracing the sky aimlessly. Lacey straightened and gave him a moment to collect his thoughts. “So then what?”

  Ross sighed again but didn’t look at her. “I don’t know. From then on we were able to do things we couldn’t even imagine before.” He looked at her. “We won that talent contest without even trying. What started as an effort to make a name for ourselves exploded into something beyond our wildest dreams and now,” he spread his hands wide, “here we are. Filling the role of world-class entertainers in Las Vegas, of all places.” He chuckled and looked at the ground. “If Opa could see us now. Even still, Ziggy doesn’t believe in real magic. He got into all the technical things that make a show like ours work. It helps him believe he is in charge, and I let him think that. It is good for his ego. But I—I know the truth.”

  Lacey cleared her throat. “So, what does this have to do with Chanel Lockhart?

  Ross frowned and coughed. He opened his mouth to speak, then coughed again, more loudly before clutching his stomach and groaning. He seemed suddenly pale, and Lacey could see a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead. “As I said,” he began weakly, “I did nothing to…” He trailed off, and began to slump forward.

  She squinted. “Are you okay?”

  He coughed again and shook his head, then managed to groan, “I suddenly do not feel so well, fräulein.” He sounded like a completely different person. With some effort, he staggered into a standing position. Lacey rushed to help him, but he waved her off. With one, last cough and a small burp, some of the color returned to his face and he rose to his full height.

  “Pardon me,” he said. Then, with a small chuckle, he added, “That was quite the little show. Humiliating, of course, but adventurous in its own way.” He smiled thinly at Lacey.

  “I’ll be here in the morning,” she said. “Maybe we could finish our discussion then? I think you should get some rest.”

  Honest disappointment shone in Ross’ eyes as he looked at her, but he nodded. “Perhaps you are right. I know there has been a stomach virus going about. Several of our staff have been afflicted by it, and the symptoms all have sudden eruptions of nausea.”

  Lacey nodded. She’d had similar bugs in the recent past.

  At once, h
is face screwed up, and he hacked another cough, his face taking on a pale shade of green. “Then, if you’ll excuse me?” he croaked, making his way for the front door.

  Lacey nodded and followed him, shooting a quick glance back at the Chardonnay. Ross caught her look and nodded. “It’s on me,” he said weakly. “Please, keep it. And as I said, you’ll never drink anything else once you’ve sampled that.”

  He paused and turned back. “Oh,” he said, voice still strained, “I have pretty good control of my magics. But sometimes, when the pot gets stirred, as you Americans say, things… happen.” He smiled tightly. “Be wary, fräulein. My brother is not always himself.”

  Lacey smiled, thanked him, and showed him out with a vague promise of a time to meet in the morning. When he had disappeared into the elevator, she set the tray of Chardonnay in the hall. It suddenly looked unappealing, and she found herself feeling on edge.

  After shutting her door, a tight silence filled the room, broken only by the distant sounds of Las Vegas traffic and Nainai’s snoring. Lacey felt the hairs on the neck stand up for no particular reason. Not wanting to ignore a potential portent, she quickly double-locked and chained the front door, and locked and pinned the sliding glass door as well. Just for good measure, she closed the blinds, then took all four stools from her bar and placed them in the front of the curtains. It wouldn’t provide much warning, but it would be something.

  Moving to the couch, she couldn’t help but continue to scan her apartment. Something was off, but, frustratingly, she had no idea what it was.

  “Victor?” she asked aloud. “If you’re goofing with me as some kind of revenge, it’s not funny.” Victor made no reply. “Victor? He’s gone now. You can come back if you swear to me you won’t be annoying, or bring up my interest in other men.” Her deceased ex remained silent. “Fine,” she muttered. “Be that way.”

  She sat carefully on the couch, her handbag nestled tightly at her side, and pulled the Magnum out. “Quit being paranoid, Lacey,” she said. “Ross was just trying to warn you about something that might happen. Maybe. There’s absolutely no support for it.” Yet, why did images of dark beings flash through her mind? Why could she so clearly remember that time in the KZTB boiler room, or the time she freed girls from a human trafficking house?