Mallory stood by the dragon screen and nodded at something Charles Butler had said, keeping up the pretense that she was paying attention to his words.
It was his clothing that made her suspicious.
For the third time in a week, Charles was wearing blue jeans, though he had been raised to wear formal attire. She had sometimes envisioned him as a toddler going off to a dress-code nursery school in a tiny suit and tie.
And why was he still working on the platform?
„I’ll put security cameras on every floor.“ Charles came down the stairs of the platform, two steps at a time. „And I’ll ask Malakhai to ring the bell, instead of finessing the locks. How’s that?“
He was so happy this morning. Encountering her in the basement had been unexpected – for both of them. He must assume that she had dropped by to explain her disaffection from the upstairs office.
„It’s not just Malakhai’s lock-picking.“ Mallory stared past him, focusing on the platform, the unsolved riddle.
Charles sat on the floor and opened the toolbox. Mallory hunkered down beside him. „Emile St. John is doing a routine with a hangman’s noose. Did Max use the platform for that one too?“
„Yes,“ said Charles, „but Emile is doing the early version. Max created that illusion long before the platform was built. I hope you don’t want to see the original gallows. It would take all day to – “
„Just tell me what it looks like.“
„It’s a cliche of every cowboy movie you’ve ever seen. Very narrow and maybe ten or eleven feet high. And it’s got a rickety look to it – that’s deliberate. It increases the visual tension.“ He turned around to look at the platform. „You know, this one looks a bit like a gallows. Maybe that’s why Max built thirteen steps – tradition.“
Mallory walked over to the platform door. The room was lit and she could see the gleaming brass of new cogs and chains for the mechanisms. So Charles was overhauling the entire apparatus. „You’re trying to work it out?“
Charles looked up from the toolbox. „The Lost Illusion? Yes, but Malakhai doesn’t think much of my chances. He promised to leave me the solution in his will.“
She sat on the edge of a packing crate full of red capes. „I can’t wait that long.“ One weapon lay on the floor, the same crossbow that had misfired and ripped her jeans. Its empty pedestal was stripped down to the gears of inner wheels and springs. „So the pedestal was broken.“
„One of the springs snapped.“ Charles searched through the tiers of toolbox shelves, then lifted out a length of chain. „Malakhai took it to a repair shop. He thinks he can match it up to a new one.“
And that would explain the ashtray on the floor by the toolbox, though none of the cigarette stubs were marked by lipstick.
The carnival mirror was propped against the side of a wooden crate. She found Charles’s reflection in the wavy glass, but no matter how she moved her head, she could not make his features flow into the image of Max Candle. She was never going to see that trick again.
He met her eyes in the reflection. „So it’s just a temporary thing, right? When this is over, you’ll move your computers back upstairs?“ Charles had such a ridiculous smile, and he seemed to understand this, always appearing to apologize for sudden happiness with the lift of one shoulder. Even now he was trying to tuck his smile back in before she could take him for a fool.
She looked for some easy way to put him off again. „You don’t have any clients right now. We’ll talk about it when the case is wrapped.“ Perhaps she would come back when her erstwhile business associate was no longer consorting with the enemy, greeting Malakhai with that tell-all face that betrayed every secret. If she did not come back, she would miss that face.
„How well do you know Franny Futura?“
„Before Thanksgiving? I only knew him by reputation.“ Charles stood up and carried the chain to the door in the platform wall. „If I ever met him as a child, I’ve forgotten.“
„You never forget anything.“
„Eidetic memory is imperfect.“ He entered the small room, and his voice carried back. „I’ve managed to block out every boring church sermon from my childhood.“
She stood in the open doorway. „So what’s the man’s reputation?“
„Tired magic.“ Charles replaced the chain for a trapdoor. „Franny was a headliner in London, but that was in his younger days – late forties, I think. All his tricks are from the first half of the century. Even before the high-tech illusions and the laser shows, he was getting left behind. But he never gave up. I like him for that. Franny’s the only one in the pack who still makes his living with magic.“
She watched him work the chain into the gear teeth. „Futura is still missing. He’s not staying with you, is he? Or maybe he called?“
„No, sorry.“
„Thanksgiving Day at your house – Futura said he staged that crossbow stunt with Oliver’s nephew. But he’s not the type to get in the path of a live arrow. What about a fake? Rubber, something like that?“
„No, I saw the arrow after Franny pulled it out of the float. It was just like Max’s set. Simple metal shaft – quite deadly.“ He emerged from the room and walked around to the platform staircase. „But the arrow wasn’t actually loaded into the crossbow. Franny probably hid it under his cape, then jammed it into the float. The crown of the top hat was only papier-mache on an iron frame.“
„But that wouldn’t look real.“
„Of course it would.“ He bent over a crate of equipment and pulled out a broken crossbow. It was different from the others. The cracked bow was made of wood and had no magazine.
„This one is single-fire.“ He handed it to her. „Like the one Richard Tree used for the parade stunt. The arrow bed is lined with steel, same color as the arrows. And there’s a reason for that. There’s no magazine covering the shaft. But from any distance, no one would notice if the crossbow was loaded or not. An audience only sees the weapon and the release of the bowstring.“
„This one doesn’t have a bowstring.“
„Right. But if you like, you can still shoot me with it.“
„The bow is broken, Charles.“
„Doesn’t matter.“ He bent over the box filled with scarlet capes and plucked one out of the jumble. He draped the material across his shoulders and knelt on the floor, moving into a crouch as Futura had on Thanksgiving morning. „Ready? Shoot me.“
She pointed the stringless broken crossbow at him and said, „Bang.“
Charles doubled over, and when he lifted his head again, she could see an arrow planted in his chest. His fingers covered the tip where a wound should be, and the shaft vibrated, as if it had struck him with great force. It looked too much like the real thing.
„Not bad, Charles.“ So that was all there was to it. Another cheap trick. „But that wasn’t what Oliver had in mind for the Central Park show. All those weapons were loaded by cops, three arrows in every magazine.“ And she still had a problem with that. „Only two rounds were fired in the act, right? One for the test dummy and one for Oliver. So why three arrows in every magazine?“
„Well, Max always used three arrows.“
„But Oliver never saw the Lost Illusion.“
„No, but he might’ve seen an earlier crossbow act. Only two crossbows in that one.“
„You never mentioned another crossbow illusion.“
„Emile told me about it. It’s an old routine, but no one ever did it Max’s way.“ Charles cocked the long lever at the back of a crossbow pistol and pulled the bowstring taut. Then he tied a length of ribbon to an arrow and loaded it into the magazine.
Mallory replayed Oliver’s death. On the tape, this was the crossbow that sent an arrow into Oliver’s neck.
„This illusion was an early prototype.“ Charles walked to the pedestal on the other side of the platform step and cocked a second crossbow. „Max used three arrows, but I only need one in each magazine.“ He put another ribbon-tied arrow in the magazine. This weapon would aim for the heart. „There’s no demonstration dummy in this routine.“
Mallory looked into the tilted magazine of the near crossbow. This time there was no sleight of hand, no deceit. Charles was playing with real arrows – and Emile St. John’s instructions.
„I don’t need to see it,“ she said. „Just tell me how it works.“
„Now where’s the fun in that?“ He waved her to the chair in front of the platform. „I was planning to try it out anyway. It’s all set up. Now sit down. Don’t leave your seat, or you’ll ruin it.“ He smiled. „You’re only the audience, all right? There are no manacles, so I don’t need a cop in this act.“
He touched the button to start the gears on the first pedestal. The ticking began, the wheels moved slowly, and a red-flagged peg was rising toward the crossbow trigger.
Charles pulled the monk’s hood over his head and walked over to the second crossbow to start its gears. Two pegs were rising, ticking, as he walked up the stairs. At the top of the platform, he faced the target. His arms spread wide, and the scarlet material covered the target and grazed the curtains.
The first crossbow fired and the arrow pierced the cape. Predictably, Charles was not wearing it. The material collapsed to the floor, and a long red ribbon trailed from a hole in the crumpled material to the end of the metal shaft in the target. Charles was probably standing behind the drapes. The second pedestal continued to tick.
Mallory’s head snapped right with the sound of something hitting a cardboard box. A diversion? She turned back to the platform. The cape was slowly rising off the floor, filling out, as if reinhabited. The lazy tongs spread the material in the convincing illusion of a man taking shape beneath the cape, spreading arms that were not there.
Over the loud tick of the pedestal gears, she heard the noise again, but her eyes never left the stage this time. She followed the sound as it moved behind her. Her hand was reaching for the gun; her eyes were on the red peg in the rising gear that would pull the trigger on the second crossbow.
The next crossbow fired, and she followed the flight of ribbon as it penetrated the back of the cape. But this time, Charles was inside. She saw his head go back. He cried out as he turned to face her and sank to his knees. A section of bloody ribbon extended from a spreading red stain on his chest to the arrow vibrating in the target. His hands were not covering this wound, not holding the ribbon in place. He collapsed on the stage, falling backward, his head lolled over the top step, eyes wide with the stare of the recently dead.
She left her chair and walked up the staircase, taking her own time. When she reached the top step, she sat down beside his still body, careful not to allow any spots of blood on her clothing.
„Charles? The next time you die – don’t smile as you’re going down. Real stiffs almost never do that.“ She dipped one finger into the red liquid. „And you made the blood too thin.“
He rolled his eyes toward her. „Well, it’s old blood. It was part of my Halloween costume when I was a little boy.“ He sat up with a face full of disappointment. „But other than that – “
She pulled out her revolver.
„You’re a tough audience, Mallory.“
„We’re not alone down here. Be quiet.“ She was looking into the darkness of the cavernous space all around them – a hundred hiding places. Then she heard the noise again.
„Stay here.“ She descended the stairs. The cellar was full of shadows, but none of them moved. There was no more noise until a rat darted out from the stacks of crates.
Another cheap trick.
She glanced back at Charles, planning to remind him of the rat traps. That was the last project he had foiled, contending that breaking the backs of vermin was inhumane. She aimed the barrel of the revolver in the direction of the fleeing rodent, only meaning to point out the rat was a -
„Mallory, don’t!“
„I know.“ She holstered the gun. „You think rats are charming.“ And faulty electrical wiring and housebreakers and -
„Not at all,“ he said. „But if you shoot a rodent in the back, how will you ever explain that to Lieutenant Coffey?“ He sat down on the top step with a rare deadpan expression, his best attempt yet at a poker face. „So other than my smile and the watery blood, how did you like the illusion?“
„Not bad. I couldn’t see the other crossbow magazine. There was no arrow in it, right?“
„Right, I faked the loading. But you assumed it was loaded when you saw the string release, and you saw the first crossbow shoot a real arrow.“
„You hid the second arrow under your cape.“
„Right. The ribbon wire loops from the crossbow through this.“ He removed the torn cape and opened his shirt to show her a thick metal tube wrapping around to the back of his body. „I didn’t know what the tube was for until Emile told me.“
Mallory nodded. „And you used the weight again, right? The ribbon wire was attached to it when you kicked the weight off the edge of the stage. That’s how you made the ribbon fly through the body tube. Then you caught the ribbon when it came through the tube. You disconnected the wire, wrapped it around the hidden arrow and jammed it in the target.“
„Sorry, was I boring you?“
Perhaps he wasn’t being deadpan this time. No, he was mildly pissed off.
„You took a risk with the first shot, Charles. Suppose it went wrong? Maybe another broken pedestal spring? You could’ve been killed.“
This worked rather well. Now he seemed pleased that he had impressed her with something.
„But the cops did the loading for Oliver,“ she said. „And they cocked the bows. All the strings released – no jam-up, no dry firing.“
„You’re right. A dry firing wouldn’t figure in that routine.“ He turned back to look at the target. „Now for this one, the wires and loops are an advance setup for bad light on a deep stage. You couldn’t do this sort of thing in broad daylight.“
Another wasted morning. „So Oliver just borrowed from other illusions.“
„But I know he got a lot of things right. Max used police officers for every manacle act. Otherwise the audience wouldn’t believe the handcuffs were real. Since the police were there, they had to inspect the crossbows too. Would’ve seemed odd if they didn’t. And Max – “
„He liked authenticity. Right.“ Mallory climbed the staircase and sat down on the top step beside Charles. „What kind of an act did Emile St. John do?“
„Birds were the focal point. It was a wonderful pickpocket routine. He’d take your wallet and make a parakeet fly out of your pants. Of course, they all did pickpocket routines. In the old days, that kind of skill was a staple of magic.“
„No weapons in St. John’s routine?“
„Never. I told you, the trick shot was Nick’s act. I remember my cousin saying that Emile hated the sight of firearms.“
But St. John had racked up many years with the French police and Interpol; weapons went with the trade. „Charles, that doesn’t make sense, not with his history. He never told you what he did?“
„You mean during the war? You knew about that?“ There was more to Charles’s expression than mere surprise; there were traces of guilt. „He actually told you?“
She nodded in a silent lie. „I’ve been listening to a lot of war stories.“ At least that part was true.
He turned his face down to look at the crumpled cape and the fake blood splatters. „I always had the impression that it was a secret thing. But I was only a child when I heard the story. Such a long time ago. It gave me nightmares for months. You shouldn’t think badly of Emile – for what he did.“ He gathered up the red material. „Considering the context of war.“
Mallory kept very still, not wanting to spook him with an obvious prompt. She simply left the opening in the air between them and waited for him to fill it with secret things.
„I only heard it mentioned once,“ said Charles. „Emile probably thought I was asleep when he told the story to Max.“ He wadded the cape into a tight ball. „After the liberation of Paris, Emile was on a Maquis firing squad. But you must understand, there were lots of trials in that period – hasty justice for collaborators.“
„Emile St. John was an executioner?“
Mallory stepped out of the cab on 56th Street, near the less glamorous back door to Carnegie Hall. The arched windows were grated with iron, and the overhang with its gold lettering was only a small seedy reminder of the grandeur on the other side of the block. She passed between parked delivery trucks and walked around the Dumpster on the sidewalk.
The tan doors of the stage entrance were open. Nick Prado was leading an entourage to a place on the sidewalk just beyond the shadow of the overhang, and there he stopped to pose for photographs.
„Hey, Mallory!“ Shorty Ross was the last one out the door. He rolled toward her in his wheelchair.
This reporter was strictly cophouse press – not here for publicity blurbs on the magic festival. Ross must smell blood.
„I hear you’re back on the job, Mallory.“
„Yeah, Shorty, that’s today’s rumor.“ As a twelve-year-old girl, she had first met him on a rainy day at Special Crimes. He had done a brief tour of midget duty as a favor to Inspector Markowitz, passing the hour by telling Kathy war stories of Vietnam. And then he had rolled up his pants in response to a child’s rude curiosity about his missing limbs and the prostheses strapped on below his knees. The fake legs had been interesting, though not entirely satisfying, not quite – enough. But he had refused to remove his stump socks, claiming that he never got naked on a first date.
„We can’t find Franny Futura,“ said Shorty. „And somebody else checked the guy out of his hotel.“
„Really? Mr. Prado might know where he is.“
„You wouldn’t hold out on me, would you, kid?“
Mallory smiled. They knew each other too well. Now she waited on Shorty’s habitual offer to play the whore and show her his naked stumps in exchange for information.
The photographers abandoned Nick Prado to snap pictures of the famous cop who did not actually shoot a giant puppy – but what the hell. And now the reporters joined the jam, and Shorty Ross’s wheelchair was locked out of the fray. Prado appeared by her side and draped one arm across her shoulders. She spoke only with her eyes, explaining that he should move his arm, and right now, or she would hurt him.
The arm fell away.
„You don’t mind posing for a few publicity shots, do you?“ Prado faced the cameras. „It’s so hard to get people to turn out for the older acts, anything low-tech. But sex sells.“
Flashing strobes were in her eyes. Prado was smiling. Mallory was not. She leaned closer, so the reporters wouldn’t hear her. „Where’s Franny Futura? Is he dead yet?“
He never stopped smiling, nor did he move his lips when he said, „Have you looked under the bed in his hotel room? That would be my guess.“
The mob was pressing up against them, shouting questions and aiming microphones like gun barrels. A woman in the back yelled out in pain, and Mallory heard Shorty Ross saying, „Oh, I’m sorry. Was that your foot?“ Other reporters near the front of the crowd had already earned their wheelchair scars, and now they stepped aside, allowing him to roll up to Mallory’s legs. „Detective, what do you know about the disappearance of Franny Futura?“
„No comment.“ She glanced at Prado – her turn to smile. She could also speak without moving her lips. „Is this another sleazy publicity stunt?“
„You recognized my style. I’m flattered.“
„Maybe you frightened him, Prado.“ Her voice was louder now. „Maybe hiding out was Futura’s idea.“
Shorty had heard that. „The guy’s in hiding?“ And this set off another barrage of shouted questions.
Mallory leaned toward Prado, keeping her voice below the level of the noise. „Smart move. You knew I’d break him in five minutes.“
Prado’s smile lapsed for a moment. „You just have to nail somebody for that balloon shooting, don’t you? Well, Franny was on the float, in plain view when the big puppy went down.“
„But he had a good view of the rocky knoll.“
The reporters had fallen silent. They were straining their eyes in the art of lipreading.
„You weren’t there, Prado. No alibi for the time.“ Now she was speaking loud enough for all to hear, and Shorty Ross gave her a thumbs-up gesture of thanks.
„Richard Tree didn’t fire that arrow at Futura,“ said Mallory – and that much was true. „Maybe it came from another bow.“ In peripheral vision, she could see pens and pencils writing down this lie verbatim. Other reporters held out tape recorders as she said, „And you don’t have an alibi for the rifle shot either.“
In a bid for Mallory’s attention, Shorty Ross nudged her legs with his chair. Then he wheeled back quickly, knowing that she was not above swatting a legless war veteran. „Detective? Is there a new conspiracy angle here?“
Prado planted himself in front of the reporter’s wheelchair. „Ladies and gentlemen – a few moments, please?“ He drew Mallory back to the wall, saying, „This is great stuff, but I think you’re making it too complex.“ The wave of his hand took in the whole crowd of reporters. „They need something short – headline material.“
„Futura knows who killed Louisa, doesn’t he?“
A woman had crept close to their conversation, and now she was thrusting her microphone in Mallory’s face. „Louisa? Is that what you said? Is that killed as in murdered? You mean the dead woman in Malakhai’s act?“
Prado bowed to Mallory. „Excellent. Your work is done.“ He walked on down the street, followed by the throng of cameramen and reporters.
Assuming Futura was still alive, he would stay that way for the rest of the day. The press corps would be on Prado’s back for hours – almost as good as a police tail. If she only had a bigger share of the Special Crimes budget, she would not have to improvise this way.
„That was rather good,“ said a familiar voice behind her.
Malakhai was leaning against the frame of an open door. In the daylight, she could see a few strands of light brown, reminders of a time when his hair was the color of lions. His blue shirtsleeves were rolled back, and the khaki pants bore traces of a morning’s work in the dusty knees.
„You handle the press better than Nick does.“ His dark blue eyes were smiling, drawing her closer. And for a moment, she felt inexplicably lighter, made of less solid stuff. She was casting about for something to say, when he dropped his cigarette and smashed it under his heel. „I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but my show is already sold out. I didn’t need the boost.“ He rubbed the gooseflesh on his arms. „It’s cold. Come inside.“
She followed him into the building and up the stairs to a storage area, where chairs were racked against one wall. Beside a lighting panel of monitors and switches, two large drawing room doors stood open to an expanse of polished blond wood. A tall metal scaffolding dominated the stage. It had not been here the day she interviewed the stage manager. Cables hung down and trailed across the floorboards to the lighting panel.
„I thought you finished rigging your props.“
„I’ve made a few changes.“
Mallory followed him through the doors and onto the stage of white-paneled walls, columns and cornices trimmed in gold. She had never seen the main hall from this side of the footlights. Rows of empty red velvet seats stretched back across vast space. She looked up at the balconies stacked to the height of a seven-story building. Their four tiers were fronted by bold curving lines. And at the top of the hall was a halo of light with an outer ring of satellite stars.
On Saturday night, three thousand people would fill this hall, and curiously, she felt their absence. The room was lit for the show and awaiting its audience. There was tension in the silent emptiness, like the moment before a dam burst, as if the crowd were only held back by the lobby doors. This void wanted to be filled.
Malakhai was halfway up the metal ladder at the back of the scaffolding. „You don’t mind if I work while we talk? The lighting takes a lot of preparation.“
She was looking at the top balcony near the ceiling. „How will they see you from the cheap seats?“
„They’re going to mount a giant screen on the wall to project the more intricate illusions. That’s why the lighting is critical. One mistake and the whole act is ruined. But I think most of the audience is coming to hear Louisa’s Concerto. I never used the music to accompany the act. It was always the other way around.“
She followed him up the metal ladder to the top of the scaffolding. „Did you hear the news about Futura?“
He stood before a board of switches and lights on a metal folding stand. „You found him?“
„Not yet,“ she said. „He’s hiding or dead.“
Malakhai smiled at this. „Probably just another one of Nick’s publicity scams.“ He flipped a series of switches, and the overhead light hit the back wall in bright circles of primary colors. „I’m sure he’ll turn up again.“
„He knows who killed Oliver, and so do you.“
„So I’m not a suspect in Oliver’s death anymore?“
„Well, I like to keep all my options open.“ She watched him flip a switch on his extension lightboard. The houselights dimmed. He flipped another switch, and she watched two spotlights chase one another across the floor. „A programmed routine?“ She looked up to see the bank of lights hanging from the top of the stage alcove. „I didn’t know you were so high-tech.“
„I’m not. Fortunately, I can afford to hire people who are.“
„You don’t trust the lighting director?“
„It isn’t a matter of trust.“
„It’s about control,“ said Mallory. „Like Max Candle and his fully automated platform.“
„I was about to say that I only use the board for rehearsals. But I suppose I am a bit like Max. We were very close.“
A shadow slipped along a back wall and disappeared through a side door. She turned on Malakhai. „How do you make the shadow?“
„I’ll never tell. That’s my gift to you, Mallory. At three o’clock some morning, you’ll be lying awake, and it’ll cross your mind that the shadow might’ve been Louisa.“
„You don’t believe in her any more than I do.“
„Oh, but I do. Creating absolute faith is a magician’s game – always has been.“ He pulled a black scarf from his pocket and held it up to her. Slowly, he lifted it to expose five floating cards. „And behold a miracle – a royal flush. Oh, I forgot.“ The cards fell to the floor, and he kicked them aside. „You’ve already seen that one, and you didn’t like it.“
Mallory stared at the rod of lights suspended above her head. He might be doing a projection with spotlights and silhouettes, but she could see no evidence of it. There were other racks of lights, at both ends of the third-tier balcony, but neither of them was lit. She looked down at the extension board. Perhaps the answer was here. A dedicated unbeliever, she hunted for Louisa’s shadow in a bank of lights and switches.
Malakhai folded his arms and watched her for a moment. „When Picasso paid a visit, he always warned a man that he came to steal.“
„Did you know Picasso?“
„No, and now you’ve ruined a perfectly good story. I’ll have to tell you another one. How about the liberation of Paris?“
„I’d rather hear about the night Louisa died. You didn’t stick around very long, so what happened to the body?“
„Emile took care of her. He was anxious to get me out of the city, and quickly. I was half crazy and dangerous to everyone. Louisa was buried in the St. John family plot.“
Mallory looked up from the board. „So St. John had possession of the body – all the evidence of a murder. After the war, did he tell you how she really died? Or did he cover it up? The day of the parade – was he the man you wanted to shoot?“
„May I?“ He motioned her to move aside, then resumed his work at the board. „You’re getting ahead of the story. When we got to London, Max and I were split up. We didn’t meet again until the liberation of Paris.“
„The battalions converged on Paris the same day. I already know that.“
„Then why don’t you tell the rest of it, Mallory?“ He hit a switch and a silver orb rose from the stage and floated toward her head. She was backing up to the edge of the scaffold when it veered upward and popped against the heat of a spotlight – only a balloon.
The houselights went dark, but for the tiny lamps that trimmed the balconies, stars in close formation.
„When the Allies liberated Paris, I left my unit to hunt for Max. I ran through the streets all day. The war was still going on all around me. The Commander of Paris had surrendered, but the occupation forces were still firing on us. And there was an absurd party in the streets. People were screaming for joy, and then dying from shells and bullets. Girls were kissing every man in a uniform. And a small crowd gathered to watch the duel of two tanks on the place de l’Opera. I wish you could’ve seen it – a battle of dinosaurs.“
The stage turned red. More switches added bursts of yellow light.
„All around us, the city was wired to explode. While the dynamite was being dismantled, we were all existing inside a giant bomb. People came out on the balconies with their children and waved little flags. Then they ran for cover when the bullets started flying. The whole day was like that – an emotional slingshot.“
„I looked for Max’s face on every troop truck, every marching column. Finally I went to Faustine’s to wait for him there. If he was still alive, I knew he’d come. The theater was boarded up. I waited by the door until dark.“
The color of the walls changed to indigo, and tiny stars of silver confetti fell from the bank of dark lights in the false sky.
„I came back to Faustine’s the next day and the next. I remember crying when I realized that my best friend must be dead.“
„He forgot you.“
Malakhai only looked at her to say, Whose story is this? „I went on a – the Germans would call it the Wanderjahre. A time of wandering.“ He worked over his board. And now the walls were bathed in a purple glow. „When I came back to Faustine’s again, the theater was empty. A rich American had bought out the entire stock.“
„Max Candle.“
„Yes. When we met in New York, he told me he was waiting at the theater while I was searching for him in the streets. Emile also showed up for that reunion. He found Max banging on the padlocked door, shouting my name over and over. Emile used his police sources to get a list of casualties for my unit, and my name was at the top. I was reported dead quite a few times.“
Mallory turned to the sound of running footsteps on the stage below. The stage was empty, but the feet ran round and round the platform, faster and faster. A recording? Was the lighting board a sound board too? The amplifiers must be set into the base of the scaffold.
The footsteps ended.
„Max had saved Louisa’s music,“ said Malakhai. „He had the presence of mind to hide the manuscript before we left Paris. That’s why he bought up all the stock from the theater. There were so many old trunks, he had to be sure they’d ship the right one. We used his family connections to get the concerto published. That was my stake for a magic act and a new life.“
„When you went to Korea, was that another tour of mass murder? Or just an interesting form of suicide?“
„I never killed anyone in that war. I was captured a few weeks after I enlisted.“
Mallory nodded. This agreed with his war record. She had yet to catch him in a lie. „So you came back from Korea and put your dead wife in the act. You didn’t want to die anymore?“
At the edge of the stage, gray scarves were whirling, barely detectable against the shadowed theater except where the silk threw back the light. A spotlight came on and the scarves changed to blue in the illusion of a whirling dress.
„And now?“ Mallory looked at him, refusing to be distracted anymore. „How do you feel about dying now?“
The spotlight died, and the scarves fell to the floor in a heap of crushed silk as he turned his face to hers. „You think I’m baiting one of them to kill me? An elaborate suicide?“
„Why not? I know what’s waiting for you. You’re losing your brains a bit at a time. But sticking a gun in your mouth never was your style. You went into two wars looking for a more interesting way out.“
„You’d make a terrible magician. Your logic is too complex. The solution is always going to be something simple.“
„Revenge is pretty simple,“ said Mallory. „You always knew which one of them killed Louisa. It was the man covered with her blood. You were fifty years late, but that’s the simple solution you were going for when you fired on the parade float. Or were you aiming at someone nearby? Nick Prado?“
„Do you still think I put that body in Oliver’s platform? The red hair you pocketed at the restaurant – “
„It came from a wig – very good quality, but not human.“ She looked around at the mass of props on the stage. „Charles says you don’t use a wig in the act. So what do you do with it – besides fooling waiters? Do you leave hairs around the hotel room for the maids to find?“
He seemed to understand the look in her eyes. She was asking, How crazy are you?
„Well, at least I’m off the hook for Oliver’s nephew. That’s promising.“
„No,“ said Mallory. „You might have planted the body if you wanted to rattle someone. Futura’s an easy target for something like that.“
„Hysteria is my best trick. You just can’t admit that Oliver bungled the illusion, that everything has a logical explanation.“
„You stayed friends with Max Candle until he died. Where’s the logic in that? The bastard was going to run off with your wife. And you still carry that dead woman around with you. After what she did – “
The scarves were rising off the floor, and moving toward her in a swirling storm of silk.
„Louisa didn’t have to confess the affair.“ The scarves stopped their forward movement and hung limp in the dead air. „In a normal world, she would’ve kept the secret. You don’t understand, do you? She had to tell me. Louisa couldn’t allow me to risk my life that night – not after what they’d – “
„That must have killed you. Max was your best friend.“
„I owed everything to Max. He saved my life. And he saved Louisa’s music.“ Malakhai looked past her to the houselights rising all over the theater. „The stage lighting is always difficult.“
„Hard to hide the wires?“
„More to it than that. I have to make the audience believe in Louisa. I spare them the details of death, except for the blood on her dress. The concerto does all the real work.“ He looked down at his electronic board. „This machine also plays music. I only use it for staging. Tomorrow I rehearse with a live orchestra.“
He touched a key at the top of the panel and the concerto poured out of speakers on both sides of the stage. „I told you my wife was in the concerto. Hear the beat in the bass notes? It’s very subtle. It takes an oboe, a soft drum stroke and a cello to make a believable human heartbeat.“ His hands moved over the switches, masking every other instrument until all that remained was the rhythm of a beating heart, a mighty muscle contracting and pumping blood.
„There she is – Louisa.“ And now he turned a knob to amplify the sound.
„There’s a strange lull in the concerto, and the audience finds it disquieting. They want to fill the emptiness with something. It drags out to an exquisite pain of anticipation, and all you can hear is the heartbeat.“ He turned down the volume. „So low, it’s almost subliminal.“
He waved an arm, and a thin stream of pale blue feathers poured from his hand and moved into the audience, dispersing in a cloud that gently settled to the velvet chairs. „And then I send her out into the crowd. Now, Mallory. Do you feel the air moving in Louisa’s wake? Can you smell the gardenias?“
Mallory nodded, listening to a woman’s beating heart. The breeze was almost imperceptible; she felt it in the rise of downy hairs on the back of her neck. The scent of a flower was faint and sweet.
Malakhai leaned close to her face. „But I never use perfume in the act.“
The odor instantly changed its character to the spice scent of his aftershave lotion – another cheap trick.
His eyes were laughing at her. „And that slight movement of air as she passed you? All in your mind, Mallory. No wires. The sensation is strongest in a full theater. It’s like orchestrating mass hysteria. As I said, I’m good at that.“
A black silhouette was looming on the wall. It disappeared when he cut off the heartbeat.
„Is that what you did to Futura? Did you scare him with shadows? Did you make him hysterical?“
„Are you sure the shadows are even there, Mallory? Can you believe any of your senses? What is truth?“
Unbalancing people was her job, not his. „When Louisa told you the truth, it ate you alive.“
„Yes, you’re right about that. I can never forget the pictures in my brain – my wife in bed with another man.“
„And then you shot her. An interesting way to solve the fidelity problem.“
Not rising to the bait, he moved to the center of the small elevated stage and turned to look out over the empty theater. The overhead lights washed away the fine lines of his flesh. They made his eyes a more brilliant blue and turned his mane of hair to gold.
„Even after her death, I was never sure of Louisa – not while Max was still alive.“ He was speaking to the vacant rows of velvet chairs, darkest red toward the shadow end of the great hall.
„Whenever I played New York, he came to every single performance. Max always entered the theater late, after the houselights had gone down. He’d take a seat in the back rows, as far from me and the stage as he could get.“ Malakhai stepped to the edge of the scaffold and hovered there in accidental elegance, eyes distant and bright. „It wasn’t me he came to see. Max only wanted to be near Louisa – secretly, covertly. And each time I sent my dead wife into the audience, I always wondered if she met him out there in the dark.“
The maitre d’ hovered at a discreet distance, subtly suggesting that it was closing time.
The only patron, Emile St. John, sat in a far corner of the hotel dining room, though wealth should have gotten him a better table. Mallory decided that he didn’t care to be the center of attention, preferring this exile on the sidelines of restaurant traffic and real life.
She shared the sensibility.
The white tablecloth was laid with good silver and crystal. A waiter was removing the remnants of a meal for one.
And dining alone was also a similar trait.
As Mallory walked toward him, St. John smiled and lifted his wineglass in greeting. He said a few words to the waiter, who left his tray behind to hurry off toward the kitchen.
St. John rose from the table to hold out her chair. „What a lovely surprise. What can I do for you, Mallory?“
„Oh, just a few questions.“ She sat down at the table, and a clean glass appeared in front of her. The waiter collected his tray, and when he was out of earshot, she said, „Seems like everyone was in love with Louisa. Max Candle and Malakhai – even Oliver.“
„Yes, Oliver was devoted to her.“ He poured out a glass of red wine for Mallory. „When music paper was impossible to get, he spent hours ruling lines on wrapping paper and the backs of posters, making all the bars for her notes. She was endlessly rewriting the concerto. You know, if she’d been born in another era, I don’t think she could’ve done it. I don’t mean to take anything away from her genius, but the concerto was such an ambitious piece. And she was so driven to complete her single opus. Sometimes I wonder if Louisa knew she would die so young.“
Mallory had resisted the urge to cut him short, but enough was enough. „And Futura? Did he have a thing for Malakhai’s wife?“
St. John shook his head. „Franny had no chance with her. I’m sure he realized that from the day they met. Louisa was a man’s woman, if you understand that term.“
„She pegged Franny for a wimp.“
„Succinct. I like it.“
„And what about you?“
„I had my work to obsess about. Ah, but I forgot. You have such a dim view of the French Resistance. How did you put it? Toss the bombs and run away before they hit the ground. The whole city was full of paranoia, and – “
„And spies. I went to school. I know what happened to people when they got caught. What about you and Nick? How did you feel about Louisa?“ And now she fell silent again, resolving not to finish his sentences anymore. She had learned a lot from Rabbi Kaplan. Like the rabbi’s friend, Mr. Halpern, Emile St. John was more open in the role of storyteller.
„We were all close friends,“ he said. „We’d gone hungry together, stolen food together. Louisa and Nick used to bicycle into the countryside to raid the crop fields.“
„But you weren’t in love with her? Either of you?“
He smiled and waved one hand, as if to ask how he should put this. „My mother would’ve said that Nick and I were musical.“
„You’re both gay?“ This did not square with Prado’s credit report listing alimony payments to four ex-wives.
„Well, I should only speak for myself. I’m a homosexual. Nick was merely a slut. And he’d tell you that himself. He’s quite proud of it. In those days, he’d go home with anybody. Girls, boys – he didn’t care. During the occupation, he never had a relationship that lasted more than a night. Nick couldn’t even commit to one gender. Oh, you should’ve seen him when he was young – a beautiful boy.“
„And he still sees himself that way.“
„You must take him for a fool, a second-rate flirt, who can’t see how ridiculous he is to a girl your age.“
She nodded.
„But when he was young, Nick was an uncommon seducer, the best there ever was. He had a Spanish accent in those days, and his hair was coal black. Even his eyes were darker then, and he used them to strip women naked in public. They loved it. I know Faustine did. Nick was her favorite boy. He learned a lot of tricks in that old woman’s bed. He could seduce anyone, even men who weren’t bent that way. If you talked to him for six minutes, or if he only lit your cigarette, you’d be left with the impression that you’d just had sex with him.“
„Did he ever take a German soldier to bed?“
„He might have. He got a thrill from risks like that. But what if he did? Nick had no politics, and decadence was his only ideal. He spent every night in a different bed. Sometimes it was simple practicality to save him the cost of breakfast. And his room in back of the print shop didn’t have a bathtub – there was that to consider.“
„I’ve seen Nick’s forgery – nice work. Suppose the Germans found out about that little sideline of his – assisting political refugees over the border?“
„You think prison worried him? Promiscuity would’ve gotten him into a worse fix. Even the Germans who waffled between genders were exterminated. Remember, we drank with soldiers every night. We heard the stories about the traveling gas vans. But Nick was fearless – just an enterprising, apolitical teenager with a phenomenal libido.“
„You don’t think much of his character.“
„Nick is what he is – the greatest, most versatile whore that ever lived. A gigolo king and the queen of queens. He was born to run a public relations firm. There’s nothing he won’t do for publicity.“
„You don’t like him much, do you?“
This startled him, and suddenly Mallory realized that she had misunderstood everything.
„I love Nick. He’s unscrupulous, but I’m his friend until he dies.“ St. John turned away to flag down the waiter for a check, and he missed the surprised look on her face. But then, it was the same expression she used for peeling onions and loading her gun.
He signed the bill with his room number, and the waiter left them again. „I’m afraid Nick’s character will never improve. He still flirts with everything that moves. Male, female, it doesn’t matter. Breathing is Nick’s only known criterion.“
„Did you ever sleep with a German soldier? You claim you were in the Resistance. But lots of people said that – after the Germans left town. Maybe you were a collaborator?“ He would never see her next line coming.
„No, Mallory, on both counts. Never slept with Nick either, though I was tempted. During the occupation, I was something of a monk. I still am.“
„I know you were an executioner on a Maquis firing squad.“ She had surprised him that time. Smoke drifted from his open mouth. He had forgotten to exhale.
„That doesn’t fit well with monk’s robes.“ She set her wineglass to one side. The socializing was done, the underbelly was laid open for her, and now – down to business. „My college history professor lived in France during the occupation. He said it was a bloodbath right after the liberation. So tell me – how many people did you kill for the Maquis?“
She had touched on something old, but painful still.
„Did Charles tell you that? Yes, it had to be him. Odd that he would remember that old conversation. He was only six or seven years old. I could’ve sworn he was asleep. Max and I had taken him to a magic show and a late supper. Charles was curled up on the rug by the fire, completely exhausted. Max indulged the child when his parents were out of town. No vegetables and no fixed bedtime. The boy just fell asleep wherever he dropped, and then Max would put him to bed.“
No side trips, St. John. Back to the war. „So you told Max about the firing squad.“
„I had to talk to someone. I was going through a difficult time – a period of adjustment after the war. It lasted for many years. I was still struggling with it that night. I knew Max would understand. He’d killed in the war. But the people I – “ He toyed with his glass for a moment. „Those people were helpless when I shot them, tied up to posts and blinded with pieces of cloth. The squad didn’t observe the tradition of one gun with blanks. All the bullets from every man’s rifle went into human flesh. There was no chance for self-deception, for the possibility of clean hands.“
„Thousands were arrested – a few hundred survived to stand trial.“
„Yes, it was like that in the first few months. My compliments to your teacher. The mobs killed a great many people for real and imagined crimes. But this Maquisard unit was executing convicted war criminals – French citizens so eager to please their masters, they went the Germans one better. Their crimes had such zeal and cruelty. Two of them had gouged out the eyes of a living woman and filled the sockets with cockroaches. Getting caught by the Germans wasn’t the worst thing that could happen to you in occupied France.“
„The trials were drum-barrel justice.“
„A military term. That’s from the American Civil War, isn’t it? A drum overturned on the battleground, an instant court and a swift execution. Yes, right again. I think an abattoir, a bloody assembly line would be a better analogy for the early trials. After the liberation, it seemed that every man and woman in France was part of the Resistance movement. Or so they all claimed – the accused and their accusers. I always suspected the ones who wanted the most blood, the loudest witnesses in court. I have no idea how many innocents were shot by the firing squads.“ He pushed his chair back from the table. „Since then, I’ve led a celibate existence, doing penance.“
„A monk and an executioner.“ She raised her open hands, as if she were weighing these words, one against the other.
„You don’t think I took any pleasure in those executions?“
She nodded slowly. That was exactly what she thought. „You had to volunteer for a job like that.“
„I did volunteer.“ He puffed on his cigar, comfortable in the knowledge that the waiter would not bother him with regulations about smoking in public – the privilege of money and lavish tips. He exhaled and watched the gray plume twining upward. His eyes searched the smoke. „All around me there were men with too much relish for that kind of work. I believed killing should always be done with deep regret. And so, regretfully, I picked up my rifle and shot helpless humans with their hands tied behind their backs.“
He bowed his head to examine the dregs of his wine, a small pool of red at the bottom of the glass. When he spoke again, his voice was too calm. There was no rise and fall of inflection, no emotion at all.
„The best method is a pistol, close to the head. But we were very young gunmen. So inexperienced at efficient killing. We used rifles, and we stood some distance away from – the targets. In an error of compassion, we avoided the head shots that would have given them a quick death. The bullets we fired into their breasts ruptured their hearts and lungs. Done wrong, it’s a death of internal hemorrhaging – not an instant kill, as you might suppose. I’ve made a great study of this over the years.“
He looked up from his glass, and she wished that he had not. Later, she would remember his eyes as somehow broken, full of sorrow and so at odds with this dry recital of facts.
„Each round creates a cavity a hundred times larger than the bullet. You see, the heat of impact boils away the blood and the fat of the tissue.“ His hands clenched tightly, knuckles whitening. „So every bullet acts like a fist reaching into the body, rupturing skin, shattering bones. I was close enough to see the people trembling as they were tied up to the posts. With the first round, they dropped quickly, sliding down the poles, dragging the ropes of their bound hands. But they were still alive. I kept punching bullets into their bodies until they stopped screaming to God, so crazy with fear and pain. Until they finally stopped moving, and the insanity – stopped.“