A Reasonable Doubt

by Phillip Margolin

“I was Mr. Chesterfield’s lawyer. He hired me to resolve a legal matter for him, but I wasn’t able to, so I’m no longer doing any work for him. And I really don’t have any idea where he is.”

  Rafael smiled. “Nice try, but a lawyer is always going to know how to get in touch with someone who owes her money. So where is he?”

  “Chesterfield may be a lot of things, but dumb isn’t one of them. He warned me that you were watching my office. That’s why he insisted that we meet at that tavern. It’s also why he hasn’t told me where he’s living. He figured you’d try to pressure me into telling you where you can find him. He calls me when he wants to talk,” Robin lied, not wanting Rafael to know that her contact was Horace Dobson. “He hasn’t given me an address or a phone number.”

  Again, Rafael smiled. “That logic shit may work with juries, but it’s not working on me. Last chance. Tell me where Bobby is hiding, or Marco is going to hurt you.”

  Robin was preparing to put plan B into action when Jeff walked up.

  “Is there a problem, Miss Lockwood?”

  Rafael got up and Marco turned toward Jeff, who was pointing a .38 Special at them.

  “Who the fuck are you?” Rafael barked.

  “I’m someone who won’t hesitate to shoot you if you don’t walk away right now.”

  Robin stood to give herself more space in case things got out of hand. “These men wanted to know where Robert Chesterfield is, and I explained that I have no idea where he’s staying. They were just about to leave.”

  “Is that right?” Jeff asked.

  Marco glared at Jeff.

  Rafael put a hand on his forearm. “It’s okay, Marco.” Then he turned to Robin. “If I find out you’ve been lying to me, there will be consequences.”

  When Rafael and Marco walked away, Robin turned on Jeff. “That wasn’t necessary,” she said. She sounded upset.

  “From where I was standing, it was.”

  “I had everything under control, Jeff. You didn’t have to ride in and save me like a knight in shining armor.”

  “Do you have your gun?”

  “I left it in the office because I was visiting Jimmy O’Leary in the jail. And I don’t need you to act like a mother hen.”

  “I acted sensibly, and I worry about you.” Jeff smiled. “You’re a big pain in the ass sometimes, but I don’t want to lose you.”

  The tension in Robin’s shoulders eased and she let out a breath. Then she touched Jeff’s cheek. “You won’t lose me. I know you followed me because you care. I appreciate that. But I don’t need a man to babysit me. And I’ll make sure I have my gun with me at all times. Okay?”

  Jeff holstered his gun and wrapped his arms around Robin. “I love you. You know that, right?”

  “I do, and I’m sorry that I’ve worried you. But I think we’ve seen the last of Montenegro’s enforcers.”

  Jeff looked over Robin’s shoulder in the direction Rafael and Marco had walked. “I hope you’re right,” he murmured.

  “Jimmy O’Leary is getting released, and I promised I’d give him a ride home. I’ll come back to the office after I drop him off. You go back and investigate a place to eat tonight. It’s on me.”

  “I’ll make sure it’s pricey as payback for scaring me.”

  Now Robin smiled. “You do that, cowboy. See you soon.”

  * * *

  During the drive to O’Leary’s house, Robin kept a tight grip on the steering wheel to keep her hands from shaking. For all her bravado, the encounter with Rafael and Marco had scared her, and she decided that it was time to cut her ties with Robert Chesterfield.

  When she returned to her office, Robin found Horace Dobson’s number in Chesterfield’s file. She had done an internet search for the agent and discovered that Dobson didn’t have many clients. He’d been living in London when he read about Chesterfield’s murder charges, and he’d moved to Las Vegas when he made Chesterfield’s deal with Caesars Palace. Hobson had made a lot of money representing Chesterfield, and he’d picked up several clients because he was representing a celebrity, but his client list had slimmed down as Chesterfield’s star descended.

  “Dobson Talent Associates,” Dobson sang out enthusiastically as soon as he picked up.

  “Mr. Dobson, this is Robin Lockwood, Mr. Chesterfield’s attorney.”

  “Oh,” Dobson said, his enthusiasm evaporating when he realized that Robin was not a potential client.

  “Mr. Chesterfield told me to call you if I needed to get in touch with him.”

  “Yes?”

  “I talked to Joe Samuels. He refuses to settle. He’s still very angry and I don’t think he’ll change his mind, so I’m going to send back the rest of Mr. Chesterfield’s retainer. Should I send it to your office?”

  “That will work.”

  “There’s something else. Tell Robert that the two men who confronted him behind the tavern tried to get me to tell them where he was living. I told them I have no idea where he is.”

  “You didn’t tell them about me, did you?” Dobson asked, alarmed.

  “That’s the other reason I called. I wanted to warn you. You’re Robert’s agent, and they may come after you.”

  As soon as Robin hung up, she got her handgun out of her desk drawer.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  The Imperial Theater was a reclamation project funded by a Portland developer who was building expensive condominiums in a section of the city that was known for drug deals, strip clubs, and the homeless. The developer was trying to make the location attractive by bringing in high-end retail stores, upscale restaurants, and a performing arts center. During its various recent incarnations, the Imperial had been a porn theater and a venue for local bands. The developer had remodeled it and brought in legitimate theater, upscale musical acts, and currently, a semi-famous, still-notorious magician.

  On the evening that the Chamber of Death was going to debut, and during the two weeks of rehearsals beforehand, a small group of protesting magicians picketed the theater because Robert Chesterfield had been exposed as Mysterioso. Chesterfield approached the Imperial in disguise, as he had every day of rehearsal, because of the protesters. When he was certain that he hadn’t been spotted, he slipped into the alley that ran alongside the theater.

  Henry Schloss, an elderly security guard, looked up when the stage door opened.

  “Evening, Henry,” Chesterfield said. “It looks like we’re going to be busy tonight.”

  “It sure does.”

  “Did you get the tickets I left for your daughter and her husband?”

  “I did. Thanks. They were thrilled.”

  “My pleasure,” the magician said as he headed down a narrow hall past the dressing room used by his assistants and on to his dressing room, which was adjacent to the loading dock. He had just taken off his cap and jacket and seated himself in front of his makeup mirror when Rafael, gun in hand, stepped out from behind the rack of hangers holding Chesterfield’s costumes.

  “Do they still say ‘break a leg’?”

  Chesterfield jumped out of his chair. “How did you get in here?”

  “Through the loading dock.”

  “You scared the shit out of me.”

  “And you pissed me off by playing hide-and-seek, which was pretty stupid since you had to show up at this theater eventually.”

  “I wasn’t trying to hide from you, Rafael. I’m trying to avoid those idiot protesters. How’s your side, by the way? You know I just nicked you to scare you off, right? No hard feelings?”

  Rafael smiled. Then he drove his fist into Chesterfield’s solar plexus.

  The magician had anticipated the blow. He tensed his stomach muscles to absorb it, but he doubled over anyway to make Rafael think he was in pain. Chesterfield pretended to catch his breath. Then he straightened slowly. “That was completely unnecessary,” he said when he was upright.

  “It made me feel good,” Rafael answered.

  “What do you want?”

&n
bsp; “That’s a rhetorical question, right?”

  “There’s no need for all this drama. I intend to pay my debt to Auggie, now that I have steady employment. My agent has shows lined up for me in several major cities.”

  “Auggie doesn’t care about the money anymore. He wants to make an example of you.”

  Before Rafael could say anything else, the dressing room door opened and one of Chesterfield’s assistants walked in. “Bobby, I…,” she started. Then she saw Rafael and his gun, and her mouth gaped open.

  “It’s okay, Sheila. Rafael and I are old friends. He was just showing me a gun he purchased.” Chesterfield smiled at Rafael. “I’m afraid I can’t talk any longer. I have my show to perform, and I need to speak to my assistant.”

  “Yeah. The show is important,” Rafael said. “Maybe we can meet afterward.”

  “That would be wonderful. And give my regards to Auggie. Tell him I’m thinking of him and I’ll have something for him soon.”

  Rafael left the dressing room, and Chesterfield talked to his assistant as if nothing had happened, but he collapsed on a chair as soon as the door closed behind her. There was no way he could keep avoiding Auggie’s debt collectors, now that Horace had gotten bookings for him that would announce his presence online, in the press, and on TV. He’d hoped that he could pay off Montenegro, but that might be off the table if Auggie wanted to make an example of him.

  Chesterfield shut his eyes and slowed his breathing. He couldn’t think about Montenegro or anything else now. He had a show to put on and he had to stay focused.

  * * *

  Robin waved at Regina Barrister and Stanley Cloud as soon as she spotted them in the theater lobby. She’d asked Stanley if he thought Regina would enjoy an evening of magic. After some thought, he decided that it would be good to get Regina out of the house.

  “I bought great seats,” Robin said as she handed Stanley two tickets. “We’re fourth row center. We should have a great view.”

  “Thanks,” Stanley said as he followed Robin and Jeff down the aisle.

  “My pleasure. I’m really eager to see the Chamber of Death.”

  “We saw a dress rehearsal at Chesterfield’s home on the coast, the night he disappeared,” Jeff added.

  “Do you have any idea how the Chamber of Death works?” Stanley asked.

  Robin laughed. “Not a clue. Chesterfield let me examine the sarcophagus before he performed it at the dress rehearsal, and I still have no idea how he got out.”

  The press had played up Chesterfield’s murder cases and disappearance all week, and the free publicity had guaranteed a packed house. As she walked to her seat, Robin scanned the audience. David Turner was in an aisle seat on the end of the second row. Claire Madison was seated beside him. Robin knew from reading the entertainment news that she and Turner were living together. The news reported that Chesterfield had filed for a divorce and was fighting to get a lot of money from her.

  Turner’s career had been in jeopardy ever since Chesterfield had exposed his show-closing illusion on television. He had developed a new closing act, but it wasn’t as amazing as the illusion Chesterfield had exposed, and there were rumors that Caesars Palace might not renew his contract.

  Seated near the aisle on the other side of the theater were Marco and Rafael. Robin also spotted Horace Dobson sitting in the last seat in the front row. She assumed he had reserved that seat so he could go backstage if he was needed. Sitting a few rows behind Dobson was Joe Samuels. Peter Ragland and two police officers were standing in the aisle against the wall next to his seat. Robin wondered if they were there at Samuel’s request to arrest Chesterfield. Robin also noticed Miriam Ross, Chesterfield’s former assistant, seated near the front of the theater. Iris Hitchens, Lily Dowd’s daughter, was seated midway in the theater in an aisle seat.

  The gang’s all here, Robin thought as she worked her way down the row to her seat. Moments later, the houselights dimmed and Robert Chesterfield appeared onstage in a puff of smoke.

  * * *

  The first half of Chesterfield’s show was entertaining, but everyone was waiting to see the Chamber of Death. Chesterfield milked the suspense until the show was almost over. Then the houselights went out. When they came back on, the open pyramid was center stage, and a ramp connected the stage to one of the aisles. The pyramid was jet-black, and the curtains behind it were also black.

  Fog rose around the pyramid, shrouding it in mist, and eerie music crept through the theater. The tension built. Then a bright flash blinded the audience, and Chesterfield appeared in front of the pyramid wearing a hooded black robe with flowing sleeves that Robin remembered from the rehearsal at the cliff house.

  Chesterfield stared at the audience and let the suspense build. Then he began to speak. “In ancient Egypt, those who offended the gods were entombed alive in a sarcophagus and died a horrible death. I am known as an escape artist. Tonight, I will attempt to perform the ultimate escape: I will try to cheat death.”

  Two of Chesterfield’s assistants appeared at the back of the theater dressed in bright red robes with flowing sleeves and hoods that hid their faces. The costume was decorated with yellow hieroglyphics. A sarcophagus rested on a slanting platform that sat on a dolly. The assistants began pushing the sarcophagus down the aisle, and a third assistant followed them. The sarcophagus was pushed up the ramp and onto the stage, and the assistants left it at the left side of the pyramid.

  Chesterfield pointed at the pyramid. “This, my friends, is the Chamber of Death. Those who enter have never returned to join the living.”

  One of the assistants pressed a button and the top of the platform that held the coffin tilted down. The three assistants pushed the sarcophagus onto the stage and maneuvered it so it was between the sides of the pyramid with one of the long sides facing the audience.

  Chesterfield pointed to the sarcophagus. “I will be placed in this coffin.”

  Two rectangular boxes sat on either side of the pyramid. Black cloths hid their contents.

  “Are there any among you who may be affected by sheer horror? If so, I suggest that you leave the theater, because what you will see next is not for the faint of heart.”

  Chesterfield waited. When no one left, he walked to the first box and whipped off the black cloth, revealing a glass case filled with writhing snakes.

  There were gasps from the audience.

  “These are some of the world’s most dangerous snakes: cobras, vipers, and Cleopatra’s favorite, the asp.” The magician pulled off the cloth that covered the second cube. “What you see in here are some of the most poisonous scorpions known to man.”

  Chesterfield pointed to an object on the side of the coffin. “Please note the chute on this side of the sarcophagus. When I am locked in this coffin, my assistants will send this horde of death dealers down the chute and onto my body. According to the literature, I should be dead within minutes.”

  Chesterfield looked out at the audience.

  He spotted an attractive woman in her early twenties who was sitting with her boyfriend in the front row. “Madam, would you be willing to assist me?”

  The woman giggled and nodded.

  “Please come onto the stage.”

  Chesterfield waited while the young woman walked up the steps and over to him. “What is your name?”

  “Charlotte.”

  Chesterfield smiled. “That’s a charming name. Now, Charlotte, please tell the audience, have we ever met before?”

  “No.”

  “We are complete strangers?”

  “Yes.”

  While Chesterfield talked to Charlotte, one of his assistants took hold of one end of the lid that covered the sarcophagus, and a second assistant took hold of the other end. They stood behind the coffin with their backs to the audience and raised the lid.

  “Charlotte, would you please inspect the sarcophagus to make sure there are no hidden doors through which I can escape?”

  Charlotte went up t
o the coffin and leaned down. She ran her hand around the inside and knocked on every surface. After a while, she stood up. “It looks solid.”

  “Thank you. You may return to your seat, and I will enter the Chamber of Death.”

  Chesterfield climbed into the coffin, and sank down. The two assistants suspended the lid over the sarcophagus.

  Chesterfield sat up in the gap between the assistants who were holding the lid so the audience could see him in the coffin. The third assistant stepped in front of the coffin between the assistants who were holding up the lid and pushed Chesterfield down. When she stepped back, the other two assistants lowered the coffin lid and attached padlocks to chains that were threaded through loops on either side of the coffin.

  While the coffin lid was being secured, the assistant who had pushed Chesterfield into the coffin pushed the dolly that had held the sarcophagus offstage so the audience had an unobstructed view of the sarcophagus.

  One of the assistants who had lowered the lid turned to the audience. “The gods have decreed Lord Chesterfield’s death. His fate is sealed.”

  The two assistants who had lowered the lid of the coffin put on gloves. One opened a lid on top of the cube containing the snakes. The other gloved assistant opened the chute facing the audience. Someone gasped when a handful of wriggling reptiles was shoved down the chute.

  Suddenly, Robin heard the sound of fists beating against the inside of the sarcophagus.

  “Wait. There’s something wrong. Let me out!” Chesterfield shouted.

  “Your pleas fall on deaf ears,” the assistant said.

  Chesterfield continued to try to convince the assistants that there was a problem with the trick while another gloved assistant took a handful of scorpions and poured them down the chute.

  Chesterfield screamed. Then he pleaded for the assistants to let him out. They ignored him and his voice grew weaker, until an unearthly scream issued from the coffin followed by silence. Several members of the audience gasped.

  One of the two assistants who remained onstage addressed the audience. “Has Lord Chesterfield survived the Chamber of Death?”