Hot Trick (A Detective Shelley Caldwell Novel)

by Patricia Rosemoor

  A second murder connected to Sebastian?

  Or was Sebastian Cole about to die?

  Chapter Thirty-One

  The twenty-foot-high horned owl nesting over the main entrance of the library came into sharp focus as Jake adjusted the lens of his camera. He zoomed out enough to capture the unusual pre-escape activity on the roof. Workers were setting up some kind of metal contraption that had been brought up to the roof via a crane.

  No Sebastian yet, but Jake could be patient to get what he wanted, and what he wanted was the truth.

  Who—or what—was Sebastian Cole? What was he doing with that photograph Jake had seen on his desk?

  And what did he think he was going to get out of Shelley?

  Nothing personal, Jake vowed. If Sebastian sniffed around her again, he would know that she was already claimed. And if he was as smart as they said he was, he would know that messing with Shelley would be more dangerous than any of his killer illusions.

  All would be revealed in good time.

  Aware that Sebastian’s security might stop him from capturing the actual escape, Jake took advantage of his good position while he could. The audience was gathering. Tonight bleachers formed a U on either side of the building and extended into the street, taking one entire lane.

  Streets and Sanitation had cordoned off the eastbound traffic on Congress, rerouting vehicles a block south to Harrison. Cops abounded tonight, both on foot and mounted. The bleachers already filled, people milled around the wooden horses keeping the front clear. Having set his tripod to one side of the open space, Jake could only guess why.

  Illusion was everything to a man like Sebastian, but Jake was determined to get past the artifice and expose the real deal—whatever that might be. So he clicked away, capturing both the details of the library building—seven gigantic owls all totaled, one at each corner and one over each of the three entrances—plus the stages of the escape being set up.

  Maybe through his photographs he could ferret out some truths. And if not, he could at least add to his collection of city nightscapes. He would shoot for as long as he could.

  “Hey, Jake, what are you doing here?”

  He turned to face Silke, resplendent in a costume of blues and greens that made her look like a bird with incredible plumage. He hadn’t expected to run into her, but the half truth rolled easily off his tongue.

  “I thought this event would give me some great stills in my nightscape series. The gallery just sold a couple of my prints and asked for photos of Chicago.”

  “That’s great. Shelley must be thrilled.”

  “Right. She figures photography will keep me busy and out of her way.”

  “Jake, that’s not very kind.”

  “But true.”

  “Well, Shell does have her controlling side, but really, she mostly wants you to be happy.”

  “Does she?”

  Silke frowned. “I don’t get it.”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  It did matter, but he wasn’t going to get into it with Silke. Shelley had the power to make him happy simply by being with him. He wasn’t asking her to make a lifelong commitment—that could wait—but he wanted to step up their relationship a notch, the reason he’d taken her to the building he wanted to buy for them. Instead, she dragged her feet, found excuses to avoid talking about it. And yet he knew she cared for him, even if she wouldn’t say the words. He never fed on her blood, but at times he fed on her emotions for him—the only thing that kept him from wandering to another city, in another country on another continent.

  Shelley was the only woman who’d ever made him feel whole, like a normal person rather than a supernatural half-breed, and he wasn’t going to stop trying until he had her where he wanted her, which was with him for good.

  “So how did you find out about the performance?” Silke asked. “Not from Shelley, because I haven’t returned her call yet.”

  “She’s going to be here?”

  “I assume. Is that a problem?”

  “No problem. Just unexpected.”

  Jake bit down hard on the emotion that threatened to stir his blood. He hated that Sebastian was making a play for her. Undoubtedly, the magician thought it necessary to keep his pulse on the murder investigation. Jake told himself that Shelley’s interest in Sebastian stemmed from the Martin homicide. No reason to be jealous.

  “No reason to be jealous,” Silke murmured as though confirming his thoughts.

  “How did you do that?” he asked, fixing her with his gaze. “Get inside my head?”

  “Magic.” Silke grinned at him and too easily was able to look away. “Speaking of… I need to get going.”

  Nonplused, Jake let her escape without a full explanation. Silke and Shelley had always been able to mess with each other’s heads, but he’d never known they could do it to anyone else.

  Or was it just Silke?

  In the few months since they’d met, had Silke delved further into magic? And did Shelley know about it?

  Jake started shooting again, but now he was distracted, worried that Silke would get herself in trouble. If anything happened to her twin, Shelley would be devastated. Or worse. He watched Silke make her way through the growing crowd until she disappeared around the side of the library. He hoped she wasn’t planning on messing with the magician.

  One thing Jake sensed with certainty…

  Sebastian Cole was dangerous.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  “I need to see Sebastian, and I need to see him now,” I told Tanya Janicek.

  I’d stopped the publicity woman midstride. A news truck from a local station had just pulled up, and she’d undoubtedly been on her way to do her thing with the reporter.

  Harried and only half listening, Tanya said, “Sebastian can’t see you now. He never sees anyone before a performance.”

  “This is official business.”

  Tanya faced me, her expression intent, breath catching as she asked, “Are you arresting him?”

  “No.” Though the thought tempted me for a multitude of reasons.

  “Then you can wait,” she said, her tone clipped, her expression odd. “Sebastian doesn’t like being distracted before a performance.”

  “But he’s in danger!”

  “Yes, yes, of course he is. He likes it that way.”

  “I’m talking about his life.”

  That got her full attention. She gave me an exasperated glare. “Look, Detective, Sebastian knows what he’s doing. He’s never so much as had an accident.”

  “Well, someone may see that he has one tonight.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Sebastian is performing on the library roof, right? A reliable informant told me there’ll be a fatal fall.”

  Even under the streetlights I could see Tanya’s eyes glitter strangely. Her mouth widened into a smile I couldn’t interpret.

  Finally, she said, “That certainly would make this event into a media circus, wouldn’t it?”

  Then she walked off, leaving me with a weird feeling that she might get off on it if that happened. Because it would give her career a boost? Or because she’d like to see Sebastian dead?

  I looked around to get my bearings. Being Sunday night, the library was closed to patrons. But the side door was open, guarded by members of the security team dressed in black, so apparently the city had allowed Sebastian’s team access to the elevators and the roof.

  Maybe he was already up there. I flashed my star at the security guard at the door and went inside. A sign on the panel informed me that the elevator would take me only to the top floor tonight. When the doors opened to the Winter Garden, a large public space that rose over one hundred feet to the biggest skylight I’d ever seen, I came face-to-face with Silke.

  “Shell, what are you doing here?”

  “I came to warn Sebastian. Where is he?”

  “On the roof, checking out his equipment personally like he does before every escape.
”

  “There can’t be a performance tonight.”

  “Why not? What’s going on?”

  “He won’t escape. He’ll fall to his death. Brogan told me.”

  “The banshee? He told you Sebastian was going to die?”

  “Not exactly. But he described the fall. And said he saw winged creatures.”

  “The owls?”

  “That was my take.”

  I glanced away and realized Oriel stood a few feet away. From the way her forehead pulled into a frown, I got the distinct idea that she’d been listening. But how much had she heard?

  Silke waved her over.

  “You think something terrible is going to happen to Sebastian?” Oriel asked.

  “I don’t know, but I’m trying to make sure not by getting him to cancel the escape.”

  Oriel shrugged. “He’ll never do that—”

  “She’s probably right,” Silke added.

  “Well, I won’t know until I try. Can you take me to him?”

  Silke led me across the Winter Garden to a staircase. The library roof consisted of angles and curves and more glass than I’d ever seen elsewhere. From the doorway, I could see a platform set up at the front of the building. And Sebastian inspecting a complex mechanism.

  My stomach rolled once as I walked out to him. Just being up there with the breeze playing over my body spooked me. It wasn’t like there were guard rails. A strong wind off the lake could blow me away…or Sebastian.

  As if he sensed me, he turned, an intimate smile lifting the corners of his mouth. “So you seek me out again. Sorry that you didn’t finish what we started last night?”

  “If you weren’t ten stories up, I would smack you. Stay out of my head and out of my dreams.”

  “You came all the way up here to tell me that?”

  “I came to tell you that you’re in danger of falling to your death.”

  Sebastian laughed.

  “I’m not kidding.”

  “I’m touched that you’re concerned for me, but I assure you I’m in no danger.”

  I wrestled with myself only for a moment before saying, “Not according to Casey Brogan.”

  “Who might that be?”

  “My informant.” I swallowed hard. “A banshee.”

  “A…what?” Sebastian narrowed his eyes as if trying to get inside my head again.

  “Stop that. And you heard me. Brogan had a vision of someone falling to his death. He saw winged creatures. These owls. The other night, he predicted a death in water and a woman died in a copy of your escape. Tonight—”

  “Trust me, Detective,” he interrupted. “There’s no way I will fall to my death.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “I told you, I’m a magician.”

  “A mage? Sorcerer? Wizard?”

  His eyebrows lifted but he didn’t seem surprised by my willingness to believe he was more than a mortal man.

  “If you prefer, think of me as you will,” he said.

  “So you won’t take me seriously.”

  He moved closer and grasped my hand. Then he jerked back and let go, his face pulling into an odd expression, as if he’d just smelled something bad.

  “I take you very seriously, Shelley… I simply have no reason to fear falling.”

  His humoring me was annoying. So was the way he looked at me, as if with great disappointment. What the hell? I was nothing to him.

  Trying to think of an argument that would persuade him, I was distracted by a furtive movement near the door to the stairs. I turned just in time to see a familiar, bulked-up Asian guy dressed like one of the security team move away from the edge of the roof. My pulse threaded unevenly.

  “That guy dressed like a security guard—do you know him?”

  Sebastian shrugged. “I hire the security company, not the individual guards.”

  “He’s one of the four thieves from your last performance.” I watched the offender head for the door to the stairs. “What’s a gangbanger doing up here in a Halloween costume?” Sebastian had no answer, and part of me itched to find out. Had he messed with the equipment somehow? Were the other gang members around? “I can’t talk you out of the escape?” I asked.

  “And disappoint my fans?”

  For the first time I looked down at the street where the still-assembling audience resembled a mass of giant ants. My stomach lurched and my head went light—I wasn’t fond of heights—but I sucked it up.

  “Then be careful,” I warned, glancing back toward the roof entrance. “Check all your equipment twice.”

  Feeling Sebastian’s amusement follow, I practically ran to the stairs to catch up to the thief. If I caught up to him…then what? Even if I brought him in for questioning, could the lock-up hold him?

  A moot question, because the Asian gang member was nowhere in the Winter Garden. I asked one of the security guards about him and got a shrug. Okay, so the company hired people who didn’t keep their eyes open. Great.

  As I took the elevator down, I thought to call Norelli, but what was I supposed to tell him? That I thought a second homicide would piggyback the first because my banshee snitch had seen it in a vision? I wasn’t about to do the horizontal tango in the psych chair again. So instead I called dispatch and asked for backup, gave them a description of the guy and asked to be kept informed if they found him. And then I asked after him myself when I got to the security guard on the street.

  Giving me a blank look, the massive bald guy said, “We don’t have any Asians on our crew. I should know—I handpicked the team for tonight.”

  Really great. Desperate to find him, I elbowed through the masses, but the only familiar face I found was one I didn’t expect to see.

  Jake.

  What was he doing here?

  My heart began to thunder as I assumed he was mixing himself up in police business again. Then I saw the camera equipment and calmed down. He was shooting the event. But why?

  Thinking to ask him, I started toward him. Then laser lights swept the area and the speakers blared on.

  “Sebastian Cole is about to perform another escape homage to Harry Houdini,” Conrad DeGroot said. “Two nights ago, Sebastian defied water. Tonight, he will challenge air. He’ll be chained and put into this canvas bag.” DeGroot pulled up one side from where it lay on the platform. What looked like rope lights circled the canvas, moving blue light adding to its mysterious incandescence. “The bag will then be swung out over the edge of the building and Sebastian will have sixty seconds to free himself and escape.”

  I watched with a sick feeling as Silke and Oriel, dressed in what looked like bird plumage, bound Sebastian, hands secured behind his back, chains linking his hands to a collar around his neck and to shackles around his ankles. Diaphanous wings fluttered around the bindings, glowing in the dark before flickering out. Whispers of wonderment set through the audience. Then the bird-girls raised the canvas bag around Sebastian and attached a metal ring at the top to a hook on the structural device.

  The bag whipped around as if Sebastian were working furiously to free himself. Tension wired through me. I waited with bated breath, literally, as the machinery swung him into position, out over the pavement. A big pop of light and sound made people squeal.

  Then the count began and the chanting started.

  “Fifty-six…fifty-five…fifty-four…”

  The canvas bag turned and twisted, the rope lights showing the sides popping over and over. My stomach turned and twisted as well.

  I’d warned him. What else could I have done?

  “Twenty-nine…twenty-eight…twenty-seven…”

  “Stop,” I yelled. “Pull him back in!”

  But my words were lost in the sea of voices. No one even noticed me. The crowd had taken on a life of its own.

  So I tuned in to my twin.

  Silke…stop him! Make them bring him back in.

  I can’t, Shell. He’s going to be okay. Trust me.

  “Twelve
…eleven…ten…”

  In desperation, I looked to Jake and willed him to use his vampire powers to keep Sebastian from dying.

  “Five…four…three…”

  Jake’s head swiveled and his eyes glowed in the dark. He found me at the same time the audience yelled, “One!”

  I snapped my head up as the still-flailing bag was released. The desperate movements continued as it dropped to the pavement in front of me with a loud splat.

  No more rope lights. No more movement.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  I jumped the barrier and flashed my star at a guard who tried to stop me. Silke and Oriel beat me to the bag and opened it to reveal…nothing.

  Empty.

  The crowd oohed and cheered as I stood there feeling stupid. Remembering the conversation about sorcerers with Silke, I wondered if Sebastian could really have teleported out. The sound of so many voices continued to be deafening.

  Even so, I heard a whispered, I told you so.

  Sebastian…

  In.

  My.

  Head.

  Furious, I twisted around, looking for him. He stepped out of the crowd right next to Jake. For a moment, the two men stared at each other, expressions intent, eyes blazing. If I didn’t know better, if I didn’t know they’d never even met, I would think they were mortal enemies.

  For a moment, I stopped breathing.

  The crowd around them quieted as strangers became equally mesmerized by the silent confrontation. The testosterone overload wound its way through the crowd directly to me.

  What the hell?

  Something about the way they squared off, about the way they silently challenged one another…about the beyond-human power I sensed in both of them, filled me with foreboding.

  What is going on?

  Even as I thought it, Sebastian broke away and took center stage, so to speak, in the middle of the sidewalk. Conrad DeGroot handed Sebastian a microphone so he could be heard above the noise.

  Giving Jake one last lethal look, Sebastian spoke to the audience, “Thank you. The donation buckets are being passed around. Tonight is night two of four to help Benita Rivera pay for legal counsel. As you might remember, her brother Pablo was murdered, but his killer walked free.” His gaze skipped over the crowd until it found me. “If we can raise enough money to help her do it, Ms. Rivera will pursue Ruben Hernandez in a wrongful death suit.”