Shell Game

by Carol O’Connell

  At this height, she could see over the top of the dragon screen. Her partner was standing on the other side in a sorry mismatch of new and old clothes. Mallory resolved to steal the man’s hat so it could be brushed and blocked. The scuffed shoes would pose a more difficult problem in her project of cleaning Riker.

  He rounded the screen and stood before the platform, pointing back toward the dark opening in the accordion wall. „I almost broke my neck out there.“

  „You’re late.“ She glanced at the paper sack in his right hand. It was large enough to hold her.357 revolver.

  „I stopped to buy a newspaper.“ Riker held it up to display the large block print on the front page. „Congratulations. It’s the longest headline this rag ever ran. ‘Cop slays puppy as a thousand children watch.’“

  And now that he had the desired reaction – she was pissed off – he folded the tabloid into the deep pocket of his coat. „Lucky they only ran a photo of the balloon. Now all those little kids won’t recognize you on the street – and pelt you with their beer cans.“ Riker was grinning.

  Mallory was not. „So what did Coffey say? Does he still think I’m dangerously nuts?“ Is that what you think, too?

  „What?“ A surprised Charles was standing by the side of the platform. „Jack Coffey said that?“

  Riker shrugged. „Naw, she’s exaggerating again.“ He looked up at Mallory, six steps above him on the staircase. „The lieutenant never said you were crazy. He just didn’t want the other guys to find out you were seriously gun-happy. There’s a difference.“

  She looked down at Riker, eyes narrowing. „So, you’re still backing Coffey.“

  „You mean his little spiel on dead cops? That was part of your education, kid. You needed to hear it.“ He climbed the steps to join her on the staircase. „But I’m on your side. Always have been.“

  Not always, not yesterday.

  Charles had disappeared back inside the platform room. And now a tangle of twisted metal was slowly rising from the square opening in the floorboards. It resembled mangled umbrella bones as it hovered for a moment before toppling over in a crash of wire and steel. Then it was dragged back down again, and Charles’s smiling face popped out of the opening. From Mallory’s position on the stairs, it appeared that his head had been severed and carelessly left on the floorboards.

  „Still has a few bugs to work out,“ said the grinning head.

  As Charles slowly sank below the level of the stage floor, Riker whistled in appreciation. „Now that’s cool.“

  Mallory was staring at the paper sack clutched in the detective’s hand. „Did you get my gun back from Coffey?“

  „You mean the cannon?“ He shook his head. „The lieutenant says you’ll have to make do with your.38. Remember the one the department gave you when you signed up? The legal gun?“

  „Does he think I’m going to run amok through another crowd?“

  „No,“ said Riker. „I think he’s still holding a grudge for the rat shooting. Some people are buggy about dogs. The lieutenant’s gone soft on rats with pet names.“

  Charles’s head reappeared at the square opening in the stage floor. „You shot the man’s pet rat?“

  Mallory turned on the talking head. „Charles, don’t start with me.“

  He ducked down into the platform, and she could barely hear his muffled muttering: „I’m sure the rat had it coming.“

  Riker climbed to the top of the platform and crouched down by the trapdoor. Leaning over the opening, he said, „The rat was named Oscar.“

  „Could’ve been worse,“ Charles’s voice called up from the hole. „It’s not like she shot Coffey’s dog.“

  Mallory looked up to the high ceiling. After a quiet moment of self-censorship, she faced her partner. „Did you get anything useful?“

  „Hey,“ said Riker, walking back toward the staircase. „Would I come empty-handed?“

  Charles remained undercover, saying, „Not while she still has two guns left.“

  She climbed to the top of the stairs and stood next to Riker, ignoring the other face smiling up at her from the dark square in the floor. „Did you at least get the files on Oliver Tree?“

  „Don’t need ‘em.“ Riker dipped one hand into his paper sack and pulled out a manila folder. „The West Side cops got tired of being ambushed by reporters, so they issued a press release. It’s all in here. The papers will get it in the morning.“

  She took the folder from his hand and opened it to see only two sheets of spare text. Not good enough. „You didn’t talk to the West Side detective, did you?“

  „Lieutenant Coffey nixed that idea. Remember? But it doesn’t matter.“ He tapped the folder in her hand. „You got all the facts. Nothing wrong with the crossbows. They all checked out. The handcuffs belonged to the cops in the act. Nobody could’ve tampered with ‘em. What got the old man killed was his own cuff key. It was broken off in the handcuffs.“

  Mallory was unconsciously crumpling the sheets in her hand. „What about Oliver Tree’s executor? Did he give you the breakdown on the will?“

  „Never talked to him. He’s on a cruise ship for the next three days.“

  So Riker had not done either of the scheduled interviews. Yet he seemed pleased with himself. „That’s it, Mallory. Accidental death. If the key hadn’t broken, the old guy would still be alive.“

  „For a few million dollars, somebody might’ve tampered with it. I need the executor’s copy – “

  „It’s an old piece of metal. You don’t have to spend good money on lab reports to see that. No marks, no cut points.“

  „Did you get the name of the executor’s cruise line?“

  „What for? It’s an accidental death. We can’t lean on the executor for information, and we sure as hell can’t drag him off a cruise ship. It was a waste of time anyway. Fat chance a lawyer would give me the time of day without a warrant.“ Riker handed her the brown paper bag. „That’s a present from one of the cops in the old man’s magic act.“

  She pulled out a pair of handcuffs. „No evidence bag? No paperwork?“

  „Kid, they never get that fancy for an accidental death.“

  For Riker’s benefit, she made a show of studying the handcuffs. A week ago, she had made a more careful examination while this evidence was shackled to the wrist of a cadaver on Dr. Slope’s autopsy table. But she had neglected to mention that morgue visit to Riker.

  Mallory pointed to the broken shaft of metal protruding from the lock. „Where’s the rest of it?“

  „Never satisfied, are you? The uniforms never found the other piece.“ Riker unbuttoned his coat, preparing to stay awhile. „Now the cop who owns those cuffs – he’ll keep his mouth shut. Coffey won’t know we’ve been talking to anybody in the uptown precinct.“

  As if I care. So the manacles had never been processed. „No paper to show a chain of possession. Useless for court evidence.“

  „Look at them, Mallory. There’s a broken key jammed in the damn lock. That cinches the accident finding.“

  She descended the stairs and stood by a floor lamp, holding the manacles close to the bulb. The broken section of metal was both bright and dark. „This is evidence of murder – or it would’ve been if anybody’d done their job right.“ And Mallory included Riker in this defamation.

  Last week, she had been the only cop to attend the postmortem for Oliver Tree. Dr. Slope had closed the little man’s frightened eyes and denied her request, calling it unnecessary and ghoulish. The medical examiner had not even cut into the body, for accidents did not merit full autopsies. Finally, Mallory had done the job herself. She had taken up Slope’s hammer and broken the little carpenter’s hand, rather than damage evidence by removing the broken key or sawing through the metal bracelet.

  And after she had so carefully and ruthlessly preserved the handcuffs, what had the West Side detective done? He had tossed them back to the cop who owned them – a damned souvenir.

  What could she salvage? �
��If I give these cuffs to Heller, he’ll say it was an old key shined up to – “

  „Heller’s not gonna say squat.“ Riker came down the stairs, stepping slowly and shaking his head. „Forensics isn’t gonna waste time or money on this. And your favorite suspect? You really think that old man left his money to a junkie? Think about it, kid. Why would the nephew kill to inherit millions, and then take a hundred bucks to do that crossbow stunt in the parade? Does that sound like a hot murder suspect with a money motive?“

  No, but the nephew was still useful. „You’re not planning to mention that little detail to Coffey, are you?“

  Now Riker had the look of a man discovering that his drink had been watered down. „You never liked that junkie for a suspect. You scammed Coffey, didn’t you?“

  Mallory was rigid, silently waiting for her anger to pass off. If Riker had only believed in the gunman at the parade, she wouldn’t have needed a scam to keep her in the game.

  „Maybe you’re both right.“ Charles was fitting the base of a pedestal into a steel well on the staircase. Three clockwork gears of tarnished brass formed a column four feet tall. „The Lost Illusion was dangerous. Suppose Oliver compounded his risk by using an old key?“

  „I don’t think he was that stupid.“ Mallory teased the piece of broken metal out of the lock with her fingernails. „But planting an old key was a good idea for the killer. A weakness in a new key would stand out in a test for metal fatigue.“

  And now the metal was free of the lock. She stared at the odd detail of the slotted shaft. „I say the metal was shined up to look like new. So who has an old cuff key lying around? I got it narrowed down to cops and magicians.“

  Charles walked up behind her and looked over her shoulder at the broken bit of metal in her open hand. „There’s nothing wrong with the key plug. It’s only the extension that’s broken.“

  „Key plug?“ Now she saw the joint line in the metal between the tooth of the key and the slot. She looked up at Charles. „You’ve seen this before?“

  „Yes, it’s just like Max’s. Elegant thing. It might be the only design that Oliver couldn’t improve on.“ He walked back to the platform and knelt down to search through a box of tools. „There are all sorts of ways to open handcuffs. You can even do it with a wire.“

  „Not NYPD cuffs,“ said Riker. „They’re the best.“

  „Well, most can be opened with a wire or a pick,“ said Charles. And Mallory knew he was being tactful. Riker’s knowledge of locks did not extend beyond the aluminum tabs that opened his beer cans.

  Charles pulled a green velvet pouch from the toolbox. „But if your life depends on it, and you’re really pressed for time, it’s always wise to use a key“

  Mallory hunkered down beside the toolbox and stared at the embroidered F. This was a twin to the small bag Slope had removed from Oliver Tree’s clothing. She wondered what the brilliant West Side detective had done with that piece of evidence.

  Charles opened the pouch and pulled out a collection of short metal posts dangling from the narrow opening in a four-inch rod. „See the slot? It’s identical to what’s left of yours.“

  She stared at the fringe of metal posts. Some were hollow and a few were solid. They had the thickness and the teeth of handcuff keys, but they were too short to be of any use.

  „This is an old souvenir from Faustine’s Magic Theater.“ Charles unscrewed a ball at one end of the slotted rod and emptied a dozen key plugs into his hand. „Some of these are antiques.“ He pointed to one of them. „This is the key Houdini used to open English handcuffs. I think they were called Darbys.“ He held up another post with teeth on both sides. „And this one opens Martin Daley bottleneck cuffs. One of these is a master for the Boer War model, like the old padlock on the accordion door. And the rest are – “

  „Masters?“ Mallory stood up to hold one plug closer to the light. And now she noticed the detail of fine grooves on its head.

  Riker took the broken key from her hand and unscrewed it from the shaft. He looked back at the plug she was holding. „They’re all master keys?“

  „Yes,“ said Charles. „One of Faustine’s many husbands was a toolmaker.“ He screwed a key plug into the end of the rod. „This extends the reach, so you can work a lock with one cuffed hand.“ He stood up and pointed to the manacles in Mallory’s hand. „May I?“ He picked them up and turned his back for a moment. Then he faced her again, holding them out to her. „Here, lock up my right hand and don’t let go of the other bracelet.“

  She obliged, slipping one manacle over Charles’s wrist and locking it shut. He raised the cuffed hand above his head, dragging her arm upward by the chain connected to the bracelet’s mate. When he lowered his hand again, the metal fell from his wrist, open and dangling from the handcuff Mallory was holding.

  Startled, Riker took Charles’s key and held it up to the broken one. „How did you do that so fast? I swear, I never saw you work the lock.“

  „Nothing to it.“ Charles looked at Mallory, almost apologetic. „Oliver might have been killed by sentiment – using his old key from Faustine’s.“

  „And he used the wrong key plug,“ said Riker. „Charles’s key doesn’t match the broken one. Sorry, kid. There goes your case. The metal broke because the old guy was forcing the wrong plug in the lock.“

  Mallory snatched back the keys and closed them in a tight fist. „How many people would have these things?“

  „Anyone who worked for Faustine might have one,“ said Charles. „And they’re probably the originals. These days, it’s wildly expensive to make new ones. A locksmith couldn’t do it. You’d need a custom machinist, a real craftsman.“

  Mallory smiled. „So now I’ve got somebody in that circle of old men.“

  Riker threw up his hands in exasperation. „It’s the wrong key. How can you look at the same evidence and – “

  „You think Oliver didn’t test the key? It took Charles three seconds to find the right master.“

  „Oliver might have been nervous,“ said Charles. „Stage fright. Accidents do – “

  „He was in the restoration business,“ she said. „He understood metal fatigue. So what’re the odds he’d use a fifty-year-old key extension that might get him killed? Somebody switched them. That’s why it’s the wrong key plug.“

  Riker was unconvinced, but not up for a fight. „It isn’t enough to sell a jury on murder.“

  „Maybe not,“ she said. „But it’s a damn good start. If the nephew had access to the old man’s crossbows, he might know about this key. You have to interview him today.“

  „The reporters wanna talk to him, too,“ said Riker. „They’d like his point of view on the great balloon assassination. But they can’t find him. Nobody can.“

  „Keep looking. And I want my.357 back.“

  „Oh, forget the damn gun,“ said Riker. „Why go out of your way to jerk Coffey around? Your.38 makes smaller holes, but it’ll do.“

  Charles ducked out of this argument. He picked up a nine-foot post and climbed the steps to the top of the platform.

  He was standing on a stepladder, holding the crossbeam over the two vertical posts, carefully fitting pegs into receiving holes, when Mallory called up to him. „That wasn’t on Oliver’s platform.“

  Charles nodded as he locked the pegs into place. „I know, but see this?“ He pointed to a recessed lightbulb socket in the underside of the crossbeam. „It also holds up the curtains. There’s a drapery rod running along the back – “

  „Oliver didn’t use curtains or a lamp.“

  „Mallory, let’s put the whole thing together. Then you can eliminate the pieces you don’t like.“

  Riker bent over an open crate and pulled out a crossbow. A thick band of strings dangled loose. The handle and trigger were shaped like a gun. Instead of a hammer to cock it, a long curving piece of metal extended out from the pistol grip. „Hey, Charles?“ Riker pointed to the narrow box of wood on top of the shaft. „A magazine?�
��

  „Yes, it’s a repeater.“ Charles came down the steps, two at a time. „The magazine holds a load of three arrows.“ He took the weapon from Riker. „It needs a cleaning and some oil. A dry firing might wreck it.“ He carried it back to the platform and fitted the pistol grip into a receiving well at the top of the clockwork pedestal. Now it was aiming up toward the oval target. „Mallory, don’t ever fool with this if you’re down here alone. It’s dangerous.“

  „Yeah, right.“

  „I told you, it killed someone.“

  Riker looked up from his perusal of another crate. „Someone besides Oliver Tree?“

  „Yes, another casualty,“ said Charles. „Max was trying out the act in a small town. Two local boys snuck backstage after the performance. One of them claimed he could do the trick. A bet was made, and the boy died – only seventeen years old.“

  „So the trick was always dangerous.“ Riker looked at Mallory to say, I told you so. And then his eyes traveled over all the open crates and mechanisms. „Pretty big production for one lousy trick.“

  „Oh, no,“ said Charles. „This platform worked for quite a number of illusions. The crates have props for at least twelve different tricks. It’s going to take a while to sort it out.“

  Mallory stood next to one of the pedestals of large brass circles with squared-off teeth. This one was not yet topped with a crossbow. A metal peg fell from a hole near the edge of the top gear.

  „I’ll fix that.“ Charles picked up the peg and slipped it back into place. „There should be a red flag on the peg. That’s so the audience can follow it around the gear. When the peg gets to the top, it hits the trigger of the crossbow. Oliver missed that detail – no flags.“

  Riker nodded. „Makes you wonder what else the old guy missed.“

  Charles wound up a key in the side of the pedestal, then depressed a button near the top. The brass wheels began to move with a grinding noise. „Everything needs oil.“

  He bent down to the toolbox and picked up an aerosol can. After a quick spray of machine oil, the gears revolved with the slow steady tick of a loud clock. Mallory watched the peg climb to the top of its orbit where the next crossbow would be installed. She looked at the remaining weapons in the crate at her feet. „They all fire?“