Now You See It

by Jane Tesh

  The owner of the voice was a stout man with a beaming face, black curly hair and a beard. “Don’t tell me. Let me guess. The Amazing Frederick—no, no, he’s not as tall. Durham the Daring—no, wait, he has red hair.”

  “My name’s David Randall.”

  The man looked disappointed. “That’s not a very catchy name. You need something like Randall of the Dark Arts.”

  “I was thinking of the Remarkable Randall.”

  He rubbed his hands together. “You need some help planning an act? You’ve come to the right place.” He looked at Camden. “What about you, pal?”

  “Something in a mind reading act,” he said.

  “You mean mentalism?”

  “Mentalism?”

  “Pretend ESP. Seen a lot of good teams in my time. Yeah, I can do that.” He shook hands with me and Camden. “I’m Jolly Bob, the Crown Prince of Magic. I can get both of you started right away.”

  “I’d like to see something in a box illusion,” I said.

  “Dozens of those, no problem. Let me show you.”

  Jolly Bob showed us boxes big enough for assistants to fit inside, smaller boxes for animals, and boxes that could vanish on command.

  “These are great, but they’re too big for what I have in mind.”

  “You want something for a box trick, then.”

  “Didn’t I say that?”

  He smiled indulgently. “You said box illusion. If you want a big effect, say with people or large animals, that’s an illusion. Effects with smaller objects are called tricks.”

  “Thanks. I didn’t know that.”

  He took a large coin out of his pocket and started rolling it across his knuckles. Showing off for the beginner, I thought. “So is this a trick or an illusion?”

  “A trick. I’d like to get a really special box, one like Lucas Finch has.”

  Jolly Bob dropped the coin. He bent to pick it up, so I couldn’t see his expression. “What kind of box?”

  “About the size of a shoebox. It’s made of polished wood with an ‘H’ on top. Lucas said it once belonged to Houdini, but I’m not sure I believe that.”

  Jolly Bob straightened. He put the coin back in his pocket. “You’re right to be cautious. I don’t know how many people have brought me ‘magical artifacts’ that once belonged to Houdini. He did have quite a collection, of course, but most of it’s in museums. He had over five thousand books now safely stored in the Library of Congress, but don’t think I wouldn’t love to get my hands on them.”

  Giving me all this info on Houdini seemed to settle him. He went right back to the box. “Does this box have stars and hoops on top?”

  “Yes.”

  He made a dismissive gesture. “I’ve seen hundreds like it.”

  But you’d still like to have this one, I’ll bet. “I’d like to use one in the act. Any idea how it works?”

  “There’s a secret panel. You have to press on the stars on the lid in a certain way to get it to open.”

  “Anything inside?”

  “You could put whatever you liked inside.” He paused. “Lucas Finch, did you say? When did he show you this box?”

  “Couple of weeks ago.”

  This time, his shoulders definitely relaxed. “I’ve seen that one. He and his brother were planning some kind of act. Did you know his brother, Taft, was found dead at the Magic Club recently?”

  “I heard about that. Was Taft a friend of yours?”

  “Yes, all of us in the magic community know each other. The Finch brothers didn’t come in here often, though. I think they were offended by all the cheap stuff up front, but I have to make a living, and the kids love it. Occasionally they’d come buy some cards. How did you meet Lucas?”

  “I stopped by the Magic Club one day, and, like you, he was kind enough to answer some questions. I never met Taft.”

  “This accident at the club was a very tragic thing. The few times I saw Taft perform, I thought he was excellent.”

  “Cards were his specialty?”

  “He had perfected a double-back shuffle that was a pleasure to watch. He was quite good with animation tricks, too.”

  “Animation?”

  “You are new at this, aren’t you? Don’t tell me you’ve never seen the dancing handkerchief.”

  Thank goodness I watch too much TV. “Oh, yeah, I know what you mean.”

  “That’s an example of animation. Taft could do it with cards. Any idea what happened to him?”

  “I heard he may have been murdered.”

  Jolly Bob looked startled. “Murdered? My God, who’d do such a thing?”

  “Maybe someone who didn’t like his act.”

  “As far as I know, Taft didn’t have any enemies. We’re a fairly close little community.”

  “What about a group called WAM? Would they have any reason to kill him?”

  All it took was the mention of the rival group to bring a sneer to his face. “They wouldn’t have the brains. Amateurs.”

  Someone called for assistance at the front of the shop. While Jolly Bob helped the two teenage boys purchase some shrunken heads and rubber knives, Camden and I looked at the strange metal pans, the strings of different colored scarves, and the collapsible hats and canes.

  “Bob wasn’t so jolly when I mentioned Lucas Finch,” I said.

  “Definitely tense.”

  “But if he had the Houdini box, how did he carry it out of the Magic Club? And as smug as he is, if he had the box, he would’ve shown it to us.”

  “He’s trying very hard to show us he doesn’t care.”

  Jolly Bob came back, all smiles. “I’m always happy to help new magicians get started.” He looked at Camden. “Now, what was it you said? Mind reading? You’ll need an assistant, someone who can feed you some clues. I’ve got some excellent microphones. Practically invisible.”

  “I don’t think I’ll need microphones.”

  “Well, of course you’re not really going to read minds. This is magic, remember? Tricks? Illusions?”

  Camden had shaken the man’s hand, so I knew he’d received some sort of impression. He put his hands to his temples and closed his eyes. “Let me try to read your mind.”

  Jolly Bob glanced at me and shrugged. “Go for it.”

  “Think of something I wouldn’t know. We’ve never met, right?”

  “Right.”

  “Your middle name is Milton.”

  Jolly Bob laughed in surprise. “That’s right! But don’t tell anyone.”

  “Try something else,” I said.

  Camden kept up the act, frowning as if concentrating. “Something you really want. Something about a challenge? A bet, maybe?”

  Jolly Bob’s expression changed. He looked startled. “You’re off the track now. I’m not a betting man.”

  But he’d bet Lucas he could open the box. And he’d bet Fancy that Rahnee wouldn’t hire her.

  Camden opened his eyes. “No? Well, I’m still working on it.”

  Jolly Bob laughed again, but this laugh was forced. “Still, a good effort. You had me going for a minute. You keep practicing.” He reached over to the counter and scattered a stack of business cards. “Damn slippery things.” He picked up two and handed them to us. “Email me, and I’ll put you on my mailing list. I have terrific sales. We can get you two set up in no time.”

  “Thanks,” I said.

  He made an attempt to straighten the cards. “You boys aren’t planning to try out anytime soon, are you? I hear auditions are closed at the Magic Club.”

  I put the card in my pocket. “I’ve spoken with the owner. She seems reasonable. Very attractive, too.”

  He lowered his voice. “Let me give you a little advice. You’d do well to try your luck somewhere else. I hate to say this, but Rahnee Nevis is rui
ning that club. Those auditions were a joke! You should have seen some of the amateurs. Pitiful.”

  “Did you try out?”

  “Me? I don’t have to audition. I’m an established artist.”

  “When did she have auditions?”

  “Last Saturday. She asked me to stop by for a minute or two, but I couldn’t stay. They were so awful. No style, no sense of drama.”

  “Are you a regular at the Magic Club?”

  “I perform whenever I can, and only as a favor to Rahnee. I simply don’t have much time. The store’s more important. Only one like it in Parkland.” He gazed proudly at the displays. “If I were you, I’d try the Bombay Club. They’re always looking for good talent.”

  “Thanks. You’ve been a lot of help.”

  He clapped Camden on the shoulder. “You get yourself a good set of microphones and there’ll be no stopping you, kid. You look up my name before you stopped in?”

  “Yeah, you got me.”

  “Pretty damn clever. That’s the kind of research that’ll take you a long way.”

  He went to assist another customer, and Camden and I left the store.

  “Wow, is he nervous,” Camden said. “He really wants that box.”

  “Okay, so he gets the box and gets it open. Then what? Lucas lets him pick what he likes from the cabinet. What’s the big deal about that? Unless there’s something in the cabinet that’s very valuable.”

  “Maybe there’s one thing Lucas doesn’t want to give up.”

  “I wonder if Taft liked the idea of his magic stuff being up for grabs.” I took out my phone. Lucas wasn’t home, so I left my questions on his answering machine. “I’ll try to catch him later. On to the studio?”

  “Yeah, I want to make sure Ellie’s okay.”

  “And I want to talk to Dirk.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Black Magic Woman

  We arrived at the TV studio right before Reg began his warm-up. Camden went over to speak to Ellin, and I went in search of Dirk Kirk. He was easy to find. He’d cornered some hapless stagehand and was making him pick a card.

  “Here, I’ll pick one,” I said. Relieved, the stagehand fled, and Dirk fanned out the gaudy deck. A few cards fluttered to the floor, but Dirk ignored them. I picked a card, the Jack of Diamonds, and put it back in the deck.

  With his tongue firmly in one corner of his mouth, Dirk searched through the cards and held up the ten of clubs.

  “That’s it,” I said. “You’re amazing.”

  “Thanks. Pick another card.”

  “Sure.” I picked another. This time the card was the three of hearts. I put it back in the deck. “You know, this is a great act. You ought to be on stage somewhere, maybe playing in a club.”

  His dull expression grew even duller. “Tried that.”

  “You did? Where?”

  “That Magic Club. They said they didn’t want me.” He shuffled the cards and pulled out the six of spades. “Is this your card?”

  “I don’t know how you do it.”

  “Pick another.”

  Yeah, I’ll stand here all day if I have to. “Why didn’t they want you?”

  “I don’t know. I was loads better than this woman who threw knives and balls around. What kind of magic is that? I thought those people were unprofessional, especially that red-haired woman. She thought I had a comic act. Do I look like a comic act?”

  No safe answer for that one. I picked another card. King of Hearts.

  “I’ve been over there lots of days to give them another chance to hire me, but they won’t.”

  I remembered WizBoy mentioning someone who came to the club almost every other day, someone who wouldn’t take no for an answer.

  “When was the last time you went over there?”

  “Last time I went was on Saturday. That red-haired woman was there.”

  “She’s the owner.”

  “Yeah, and some skinny guy and a fat guy with a beard.”

  WizBoy and Jolly Bob.

  Dirk Kirk was intensely interested in the deck. “Is this your card?”

  Five of diamonds. “Wow. I can’t believe they didn’t hire you.”

  Dirk looked as smug as Jolly Bob. “That’s okay.”

  “Why is it okay?”

  Sheila chose this moment to call to him. “Dirk! We’re about to start! Get over here.”

  Dirk patted his deck of cards back into shape. “It’s okay because I’m a TV star. I don’t need that stupid club to be famous. They’re the ones who’ll be sorry.”

  I asked him what he meant by that, but he lumbered over to his mother. I’d have to wait until after the taping to ask him any more questions, although I couldn’t imagine him being slick enough to steal the box. He’d have to have known about the cinder block hiding place. Maybe he’d seen someone take it.

  I joined the other audience members finding their seats and sat down beside Camden in the second row. He was talking to some people behind us, two women and a man, who shook his hand and greeted him like they were all old pals.

  “Randall, these are some folks from church. Celia Huffman, Lloyd Johnson, and Mabel Greene.”

  Celia Huffman was a large woman in a bright floral dress. “Did you know we got picked to be on the show today? We’re so excited. We’re getting to peek into the future.”

  Lloyd Johnson tried to downplay his interest, but his eyes were full of curiosity. “The ladies are excited, but not me. I’m going along to be a good sport.”

  “I can’t wait to see what she says.”

  The other woman, Mabel Greene, was also a hefty size, dressed in a shiny yellow pantsuit. “Oh, you’ll love it, Lloyd. I can’t wait to hear what she says.”

  “We can’t wait, either,” I said.

  “Is she as good as you, Cam?”

  “She’s different.”

  Reg completed his warm-up and introduced the guests. “And now we’d like to welcome to our program three lucky audience members who’ll each be given a special reading by our own Oracle of Truth, Sheila Kirk.”

  Huffman, Johnson, and Greene made their way to the set. Reg showed them to their seats, and Sheila invited Celia Huffman to go first.

  “You may ask me anything you like.”

  Mrs. Huffman sat on the edge of her chair, her hands twisting together nervously. “I have to ask about my husband. I feel responsible for his death somehow. I must know if he’s happy. Is he all right? Did he go to heaven?”

  I glanced at Camden. “Isn’t this a little heavy for the PSN?”

  “Mrs. Huffman accidentally gave her husband the wrong medicine. No one blames her, but she’s been struggling with guilt.”

  Sheila dismissed the woman’s concerns with an airy wave of her fat hand. “Of course, he’s happy. Who wouldn’t be? Quit carrying such a load of guilt. It wasn’t your fault. Lighten up. He’s having a ball.”

  Camden sat up, tense. “What’s she saying? That’s not true.”

  “What? He’s not having a ball?”

  “Why is she telling that poor woman it wasn’t her fault? It was her fault. She has to deal with it.”

  His anxious whisper was attracting attention. I motioned for him to settle down. “We’ll talk to her after the show.”

  I could tell he wanted to leap onto the set and confront Sheila right then. Then Mabel Green asked about her health.

  Shelia closed her eyes and made a series of faces to indicate contact with the spirits. “I see that your sugar level is fine. Eat whatever you want.”

  This time, I had to grab Camden’s arm to keep him in his seat. “Later. We’ll get her later.”

  “Randall, this is insane. Mabel’s a borderline diabetic.”

  “Take it easy.”

  It was Lloyd Johnson’s turn. “I’d very much
like to know about my health, too, Miss Sheila. I have a heart condition.”

  Again, Sheila went through the motions, this time swaying in her chair before opening her eyes and giving him her wide toothy smile. “And you’re going to be perfectly fine. It’s going to clear up like magic, wait and see.”

  Camden sat back as if stunned. “Please tell me I didn’t hear that.”

  I saw Ellin cue Sheila for a commercial break. “It’s over.”

  As soon as Reg started his spiel for Candle De-Light, Camden hurried down to Ellin. “Ellie, you’ve got to do something. She’s all wrong.”

  “Of course she’s all wrong. What do you think I’ve been saying?”

  “I mean, she’s telling everyone wrong information. Those people are from my church. I know them. There has to be something you can do.”

  “I don’t know what I can do right now. We’re in the middle of taping.”

  “I know what I can do.”

  I wanted to see this. Although squat and square, the Deadly Sheila was several inches taller and probably a hundred pounds heavier than Camden. He was just about eye-level with her imposing bosom.

  “I need to talk to you,” he said.

  “I’ll be happy to solve any problem you may have.”

  “You told three people completely wrong answers, potentially dangerous answers.”

  She was unconcerned. “I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re talking about.”

  “You told Mrs. Huffman her husband’s death wasn’t her fault. You told Mister Johnson his heart condition would clear up. He’s going to die.”

  “You’d have me tell the man that on TV?”

  “He needs to know. He needs to prepare. His children are going to attack each other if he doesn’t leave a will. And you told Mrs. Greene that sugar was okay. Are you aware she’s borderline diabetic?”

  Sheila spoke across his head to Ellin. “What is all this? Why is this man talking to me? Does he have anything to do with my show? I don’t think so.”

  Ellin had been watching the confrontation with a mixture of hope and dread. “Perhaps you should revise some of your predictions.”

  “Perhaps you should get him off my set.”