Magician's Daughter

by Judith Janeway

  “Whatever,” Ashley said. I chose to view it as an invitation.

  I stepped into her room and closed the door behind me. Ashley lay on her bed reading and didn’t acknowledge me.

  “I have an emergency, and I need your help.”

  “What’s the emergency?” She asked in the tone of someone who couldn’t care less.

  “Your dad confiscated my phone.”

  Ashley lowered her book. “Why?”

  “He doesn’t want me talking to Rico. Their business deal fell apart. He thinks I might pass on information about the deal he’s cut Rico out of.”

  “Would you?”

  “Of course not! But your dad’s really paranoid. Know what I mean?”

  Ashley gave me a long considering look. “Maybe he has his reasons.”

  “You’re right. He does, but I’m not one of them. What do I care about his stupid business deals? I just want to phone my boyfriend and tell him I won’t be able to talk to him or see him until after the gala.”

  “Do you love him?”

  The question was so unexpected that I didn’t have a ready answer.

  Ashley gave me a knowing smile. “That’s what I thought.” She got up from the bed and crossed to her desk. “I wasn’t sure I was going to show you this.” She handed me a flyer, a sheet of pink paper covered in smudgy black print in various fonts surrounding an image of hands playing a guitar. “Rico’s good-looking if you like his type, but he’s not Jeff.”

  I looked from the flyer to Ashley’s face. “What’s Jeff got to do with anything?”

  She gestured to the flyer. “He’s here. Just like he said. See? Ghoul Food. That’s the band he told you about.”

  I peered at the flyer again and saw Ghoul Food listed along the right hand margin along with seven other ridiculous names.

  “They’re playing at 924 Gilman,” Ashley said, an undertone of excitement in her voice. And when I just stared at her, she went on. “Gilman? In Berkeley? God, don’t you know anything? I knew about Gilman even before I moved here. Bands like Sabertooth Zombie and Rancid play there. It’s going to be his big chance.”

  I handed the flyer back to Ashley. “Look, I don’t think you understand. Jeff and I—actually there isn’t a Jeff and I. There never was.” I might have added “even before he stole all my money,” but I didn’t need to get into a long tale about Jeff. What I needed was a phone.

  “Why won’t you admit it? You still have feelings for Jeff. And Jeff loves you. I was there, remember? Can you say the same about Rico?”

  Where did Ashley come up with this stuff? Was anime a Japanese version of American soap operas? “Yes—I can.” I pointed to the gold and crystal heart that hung around my neck. “He gave me this today. And told me he wanted us to be exclusive. He told me he’s never said that to anyone else.”

  “But do you love him?”

  “Look, this is all new to me,” I said. “I’ve never been in love before. But, yes, I think I love him. And I know he’ll be upset when he calls and I don’t pick up or call him back. So please let me borrow your phone. Just for a few minutes, that’s all.” I acted the role I thought Ashley would believe, but I put all the desperation that I in truth was feeling into my voice.

  “Okay.” She pulled her phone from her jeans pocket and handed it to me. “But I want it right back.”

  I took the phone. “I promise. And thank you.” I hurried into my room and closed the door, then on into the bathroom and closed that door too. Rico told me he’d checked the room for bugs, but that was in the morning. I couldn’t take any chances. I turned on the water in the sink and opened the phone. My index finger hovered over the numbers as it gradually came to me. I didn’t know Rico’s number. He’d put it on speed-dial on the phone he’d given me, so I’d never actually seen the number.

  I paced the short length of the bathroom several times. If I’d been in the habit of cursing, now would be the time for it. I had to think. Wait. I stopped pacing. I knew a number I could call. The one Phil had written on the back of Lopez’s card. She’d told me I could call it anytime and someone would always answer. And that number I had seen. I punched it into the phone.

  A woman’s voice answered curtly, “Who’s speaking?”

  “This is Valentine Hill,” I whispered into the phone.

  “Please speak up. Who gave you this number?”

  “Agent Philips did. The day before she died. You must have a report there with my name in it. Valentine Hill,” I repeated a little louder in case she’d missed it.

  “One moment.” She must have put me on hold, but there was no sappy music, or message thanking me for my patience, just dead air. I waited. Finally she came on the line again.

  “Ms. Hill?”

  “Yes?”

  “What can I do for you?”

  I let out the breath that I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. “I’ve been working with Carl Carter and it’s urgent that I reach him.”

  After a pause, during which I heard the tapping of computer keys, the woman said, “Special Agent Carter is in the field and can’t currently be reached. Leave your number and I’ll have him call you.”

  “No, that won’t work. They took my phone away. I borrowed this one, but I have to give it right back. If I can’t talk to Carl maybe you can give me a number for Rico DiSera? He’s working with Agent Carter, so possibly you have his information on file?”

  Another pause accompanied by tapping, then, “Special Agent DiSera is also in the field and can’t be reached. Do you want to leave a message?”

  “Special Agent DiSera,” I echoed.

  “Is there a message?”

  I sank onto the rim of the bathtub. “Message…yes.” I couldn’t focus.

  “Can you speak up? I can’t hear you.”

  Rico had lied to me. Repeatedly. The phony cab driver and pretend gangster who teased me with his fake seduction. And while I kept trying not to like him too much, he coldly and deliberately played me.

  “Ms. Hill? Are you still there?”

  I cleared my throat. “Yes. I’m here. The message for Agents Carter and DiSera is—I’m working for Kroy now and have information, but he took my phone and won’t let me leave the house. I’ll find a way to make contact again tomorrow night during the gala. Got that?”

  “Yes.”

  I ended the call without saying good-bye. I turned off the sink tap, and walked slowly out of my room to Ashley’s door. I knocked lightly and opened the door. “Ashley? Here’s your phone.”

  Ashley had returned to her book, but she looked up when I came in. “Whoa. You don’t look so good. What happened?” She put her book aside.

  “Nothing happened. He didn’t pick up, so I left a message. Thanks for letting me use your phone. I really appreciate it.” I held the phone out to her.

  “Something happened. Your hand is shaking.” She took her phone from my fingers.

  “Just tired, that’s all.” I turned, went out the door, and nearly collided with Elizabeth, who was carrying several oversized shopping bags from Saks and Neiman Marcus.

  “There you are,” Elizabeth said. “I was looking for you. You’re going to love what I bought for you.”

  “Can we do this later? I’m really tired.” I didn’t want to deal with Elizabeth, particularly not when she was playing Lady Santa. Her “gifts” always came with big price tags. I needed time to calm down and think about rotten Rico the fibbing fed. He probably had a ‘The ends justify the means’ poster hanging on his office wall.

  “There is no later, Valentine. We need to do this now.” She leaned into Ashley’s room. “You too, Ash. Come try on your dress.” She continued down the hallway to my bedroom. Ashley slid off the bed and joined me, trailing behind Elizabeth.

  Once in my room, Elizabeth arranged the shopping bags on my bed. “You girls sh
ould have come with me. I had so much fun. Wait till you see.” She rummaged in one of the bags and pulled out a long black dress. “For you, Valentine. It looks like a rag on the hanger, but wait till you see it on. It’s stunning. Of course you’ll want to wear something different for your performance, and I thought this would be perfect.” She produced a second dress, black like the first but with about a fourth of the material. To call it skimpy was an exaggeration.

  “Wow,” Ashley said. “Does that come with its own stripper pole?”

  “Ashley! What a thing to say,” Elizabeth said. “It’s perfectly appropriate for a stage performance. I’m sure Valentine’s used to wearing dresses like this when she’s onstage. Right, Valentine?”

  “It’s fine, Elizabeth. Thanks.” I tried for tact. The last thing I wanted to do right now was antagonize Elizabeth. I’d wait until I tried it on in private before I decided if it was too skimpy. I had a backup costume I could wear, and Elizabeth didn’t need to know about it until I was onstage.

  “Bobby thinks it’ll be perfect,” Elizabeth said, as if that ended all discussion. “And wait till you see what I got for you, Ashley. I couldn’t decide which one I liked best, so I bought them both so you could choose. She pulled out two dresses, one pink chiffon, one lilac lace. Neither one had the drama of the dresses she’d bought for me. In fact, the styles were more appropriate for a pre-teen than for a fifteen-year-old.

  Ashley stared at them. “Are you out of your mind?”

  “Not at all. Which one do you like?”

  “I wouldn’t wear either one to my own funeral.”

  “These are exactly what your father would like to see you wear to his gala.”

  “Well, screw him and screw his gala,” she said and whirled out of the room.

  “I think you should tell her that tantrums aren’t going to cut it with Bobby,” Elizabeth said.

  I shook my head. “She wouldn’t listen to me. Besides, I agree with her. These dresses look like a bridesmaid’s nightmare. And you knew she’d never go for pastels.”

  Elizabeth shrugged. “It’s not about what she likes. It’s what Bobby wants. My job is to see that everything goes smoothly and just the way he wants it.”

  “That so? And what do you get out of it?”

  She flashed an enigmatic smile and didn’t answer my question. “And it looks like now you’re helping Bobby, too?” She posed it as a question.

  I was suddenly extremely aware of the bundles of cash I’d tucked into the back of my pants waistband. I gave a tug at the hem of my shirt to make sure it hadn’t ridden up. “I think you know that Mr. Kroy would be very upset if I commented on that.”

  “You can tell me. After all I’m the one who gave you a glowing recommendation.”

  “Including praise for my unyielding discretion?”

  She gave me a considering look. “I hope that’s true, because there’s something I need you to do for me.”

  My heart skipped a beat. That was how Elizabeth had always introduced me to a new scam. “What is it?” I asked, trying for a casual tone.

  “Can I count on you? Completely? Decide now, because there will be no backing out. At least, not without consequences,” she said with ice in her eyes and in her words. This was the old familiar Elizabeth. The mother from hell.

  “You can count on me.” I met her gaze straight on. “Why do you think I’m here in the first place?”

  She gazed at me for a beat, as if she was still making up her mind. I held steady, giving away nothing in my expression or body language. She blinked first.

  “Wait till you see what I have.” She turned and pulled two rectangular velvet boxes out of one of the shopping bags. “This one is for you.” She opened the first box and held it out for me to see. A diamond necklace lay nestled in the velvet folds of the box. The stones were gradated in size. The one in front had to be at least four carats.

  “Are they real?”

  “Of course they’re real,” she said with a laugh. “Have you ever known me to wear fakes? And you have to agree they’re much more stunning than that little thing you’re wearing. Swarovski, right? Where did you get it?”

  “Rico gave it to me.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Well, tell him he’ll have to do better than crystal. Now look at mine.” She opened the second box to display a three-strand diamond necklace with a large diamond pendant hanging from the longest strand. “Three hundred carats total, worth ten million. What do you think?”

  “Where did you get them?”

  “They’re on loan from Bulgari for the gala. Bobby arranged it. Insured to the max, of course, which is a good thing because they’re going to be stolen.”

  “Are you nuts? With your record, they’ll nail you for it for sure. And for what? You couldn’t fence it for one-tenth of its value.”

  “I already have a very eager buyer who’s going to give me three point five million. And no one will accuse me, because I’m going to be in the hospital with a heart attack.”

  “So what does that make me? The fall guy? Because if both necklaces are stolen, and you aren’t on the short-list of suspects, I definitely will be.”

  “No, no. Would you just listen for a second? Your necklace isn’t part of the deal, just mine. I’ll need you for a brief time only. I’ll have a heart attack—not a real one of course, but an excellent imitation. I have a little pill that will make it look very believable. You’ll rush to my side, go with me to the hospital and on the way the you will help me lose the necklace.”

  “No one loses three hundred carats, Elizabeth.”

  “I know you’ll find a way. You always did.”

  “And what do I get out of it?”

  She tilted her head to one side. “How does five percent sound?”

  “You must be kidding.”

  “All right then, ten percent.”

  “Still not enough for the risk I’ll be taking.” I folded my arms across my chest.

  “Okay, fifteen and that’s as high as I go.”

  “I thought I was crucial to your plan.”

  “You are, but if you act like a brat I’ll just have to make other arrangements.”

  I tapped my foot and stared off into space, giving the impression I was debating her proposal. I’d been waiting for this moment for a long time. I might never again be in a position to negotiate with her, so I had to put it just right. “Okay, I’ll take the fifteen percent, but only if you give me some information.”

  “What?”

  “I want to know exactly where and when I was born.”

  “Are you serious? But you know your birthday—February 14th.” She closed the jewelry boxes and returned them to the bag.

  “Is it really?”

  “Of course.” She turned her attention to Ashley’s dresses, folding them carefully and replacing them in the shopping bag.

  I gritted my teeth. She wasn’t even pretending to be telling the truth by giving me her full insincere attention so I’d believe her. “What year?”

  “Oh dear, now you’re asking a tough one. You know I’ve never paid much attention to years, except to subtract them from my age,” she said with a light laugh. “But I can probably figure it out. And you want to know where? You’re going to force me to rack my brain.”

  “Don’t play with me, Elizabeth. If you want me to help you, you’ll have to tell me what I want to know, or it’s no deal. Date, year, and place of my birth, and everything you know about my father, beginning with his name.”

  She stopped fiddling with the shopping bags and faced me. She looked caught off guard. “Your father? Why? And why now? It’s never come up before.”

  “You used to talk about him.”

  “I did? When?”

  “Right up till you were sent to prison, and I went to live with Aunt June.”

  Her
eyebrows drew together in puzzlement. “What did I tell you?”

  “I’d do magic tricks for you, and you’d say I reminded you of him. I asked you if he was a magician, too. You said he was.”

  Elizabeth laughed. Not the tinkly laugh of supposed genuine amusement she’d perfected over the years, but her primal harsh laugh. Not a sound that invited others to share in her amusement. Once she’d started, she couldn’t seem to stop. She sat down on the edge of the bed, took some deep breaths and finally stopped. “Don’t look at me like that,” she said.

  I could feel the heat in my face and struggled to keep the anger that surged through me in check.

  “God, I haven’t laughed like that in years. Poor Valentine. Is that why you took up this magician shtick? To be like daddy?” She nearly broke out into laughter again. “Okay, I’ll tell you right now. I don’t know who your actual father is. The man you reminded me of was a magician in bed. Not something I wanted to share with a little girl. Besides, it worked better for the con if you believed there was an actual daddy out there somewhere. Sorry to disappoint you. I hope that’s not a deal-breaker.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  I spent the rest of the afternoon and evening bouncing between my rage at Elizabeth and my anger at Rico. How could I have been so stupid, so naïve? They had both conned me. Me! The one who could spot a scam before it even launched. Elizabeth’s laughter still echoed in the room. Was Rico the rat laughing at me too? I paced and stewed. Finally, I managed to bring my fury down to a slow simmer, which left room for anxiety to creep in. I had to perfect my routine for the gala. I hadn’t practiced anything for days now and my plan included some new twists on an act I’d performed only twice.

  I pulled out my magician’s cape and stowed the smoke bombs, the balls for juggling, and all my ropes in its secret pockets and began a run-through. After a few miserable efforts I threw down the rope I was trying the split-and-reconnect illusion with. I wasn’t a magician. I was a joke. I was about to take off my cape and throw it on the floor too when I heard Aunt June talking to me. “Don’t perform for yourself. You can’t be a magician and an audience at the same time. Do it again now, for me.” I could almost see her, sitting very straight in her chair, eyes bright and focused completely on me. I started over from the beginning, not stopping when I messed up, but noting the rough spots. Then I repeated each misstep again and again until I could do that part ten times in a row without a glitch.