Though Rabbi David Kaplan cut a figure of lean elegance, he didn’t look the part of a gambler, not by his turtleneck sweater or the loaf of bread in his hand. The close-trimmed beard made him too distinguished, and the sweet tranquillity in his eyes belied the fact that he could hold his own in a round of cutthroat poker. In his first act as a good host, the rabbi had confiscated Charles Butler’s necktie, arguing that a man could not concentrate on his game if he did not breathe properly.
The tie was hung on the coatrack alongside Mallory’s holstered revolver. How odd to see that deadly thing in David Kaplan’s house.
At the end of the foyer, Charles glanced into the living room. Its sole occupant was an elderly stranger in a black suit, who had been allowed to keep his necktie. A gray topcoat was folded on the visitor’s lap, and a homburg hung on the hook of one gnarled finger. As the old man rose from the couch, his sad eyes focused on Charles, and he was clearly disappointed, obviously expecting someone else. Slight and frail, he seemed to hover over the carpet, delicate as a dry dead leaf that had not quite settled to ground. His face had the ashen cast of illness, and his eyes were the color of dust.
„That’s Mr. Halpern,“ said the rabbi. „He wants a few words with your friend when he arrives. It’s very important to him. I hope you don’t mind?“
„Not at all.“ Because Mr. Halpern wore a necktie, Charles had already deduced that he was not here to play poker. After the introductions were made, he lingered a moment to give the old man a polite nod. „You’re sure you won’t join us?“
Mr. Halpern made a slight bow with good manners from another age. „Thank you, but I prefer to wait here.“ He held up his hat and coat to show that he would be leaving shortly.
Charles followed the rabbi down the hall and into the den, where he was surrounded by the colors of leather-bound books shelved on every wall. Near the door, a tea cart was laid out with all the ingredients a sandwich maven could ask for. The usual crew had already assembled, and Charles was still overdressed among the sweaters and sweatshirts, jeans and khakis. He removed his suit jacket, unbuttoned his vest and rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt.
Dr. Slope was working at the cheese board, his serrated knife flying in the act of creation, slashing yellow slices and white ones. The medical examiner had a good face for poker, a stern composure that could not be cracked by a royal flush. His friends called him Edward. He was not a plausible Ed, not a man that one could comfortably abbreviate. The doctor inclined his head in a greeting to Charles as he piled the cheese on his plate.
„Hey, Charles!“ Robin Duffy’s eyes were full of delight, as if they had not seen one another for years, though last week’s game had been at Robin’s house. The retired lawyer was a small graying bulldog of a man, and a deceptive opponent, wearing the same agreeable expression for good cards and bad. Every laugh line in his face said, I’m so happy to be here.
Mallory stood behind Robin, pulling money from the pockets of her blue jeans and her cashmere blazer. She was putting in a rare appearance at the insistence of Rabbi Kaplan, valiant guardian of that place where her soul resided – though Edward Slope often argued that the rabbi was gatekeeper to an empty room.
And now Charles had his first unobstructed view of the new addition to the rabbi’s den. The ancient folding card table had been retired, and in its place was a massive piece of furniture with thick legs tapering to lion’s claws. „David, it’s beautiful.“
„A gift from my wife.“ The rabbi ran one loving hand along the curving mahogany edge, fingers gently grazing the green felt circle covering the surface.
In the simple act of pulling up a chair at the table, Mallory determined where everyone would sit. How predictable that she would position herself facing the door. She never left her back exposed. Dr. Slope sat down on her left side. He always liked to be within needling range of her, no matter what the setting or occasion. On her right was Robin Duffy, her adoring admirer. Rabbi Kaplan took the chair opposite the doctor and Mallory, so that he might act as referee.
Charles sat down in the single chair between Robin and the rabbi, for two guests had yet to arrive, and they would want to sit together.
All around the table, beer bottles were settling to coasters alongside plates of sandwiches and ashtrays. And now he noticed something else had been added to the game – real poker chips of red, white and blue instead of the usual mix of coins.
Mallory read his face. „Yeah, just like the real cardplayers.“ She turned to Edward Slope, not bothering to temper her sarcasm. „I’m guessing.“ She held up a white chip. „This is worth a nickel, right?“
Dr. Slope smiled as he leaned toward her with a return salvo. „Got any plans for your winnings? Why not have the giant puppy stuffed as a trophy?“
Robin Duffy glowered at the doctor. „You can’t prove she shot that balloon.“
„Spoken like a true lawyer, Robin. Hey, I was there when she blasted it out of the sky.“ Dr. Slope quickly stacked his poker chips in reckless little towers.
The doctor’s stacking style and Charles’s degrees in psychology told him that Edward Slope was not at all conservative in his game. The careless arrangement of his chips said, I came to play. But then, Edward said the same thing aloud each time he sat down at the table.
The rabbi was lining up his plastic tokens in neat columns, the hallmark of an inhibited bidder, yet he ran the best bluffs in every game.
In respect to cards, Charles’s education had been a waste of time. His first game with these men had shattered his belief in an orderly universe governed by laws of cause and effect. Despite his extensive knowledge of body language, his high IQ and flawless logic, he never won. But he kept returning to the poker table, week after week, in the spirit of a whipped dog conducting a science experiment.
He had never played against Mallory before. Long before he met her, she had abandoned this game with her foster father’s oldest friends. Charles stared at the perfect columns of her chips, so carefully aligned they might he solid shafts of plastic. If he were meeting her for the first time, if he did not know how many guns she owned, he would judge her an insecure player.
„I saw you on TV, Edward.“ Robin Duffy gathered his chips in loose piles of denominations. „The balloon autopsy wasn’t too professional, but real funny.“
„I know a bullet hole when I see one,“ said the medical examiner.
„My wife thinks you shot the big puppy, Edward – just to make the kid look bad.“ Robin’s jowls gathered up in a wide bright smile for Mallory. Each time he looked at her, he seemed amazed, as though she were still growing up before his very eyes.
And now Charles understood why the rabbi had insisted on Mallory’s attendance; it was for Robin’s sake. Since the death of her foster father, she rarely made the trek to this Brooklyn neighborhood, and the old lawyer had missed her sorely.
Charles popped the cap off a bottle of beer, the standard beverage for every game. So it was odd to see the lone sherry glass set before one of the empty chairs. And wasn’t the lighting a bit dimmer than usual?
Well, this smacks of collusion. A stage had been set.
When the doorbell rang, Rabbi Kaplan said, „Mr. Halpern will get it.“ Though the rabbi could see the front door if he only turned his head to one side, he kept custody of the eyes to allow the elderly man a private moment with the new arrival.
Not Mallory. She was looking straight down the hallway.
Charles had to lean over the table for a clear view.
Fragile Mr. Halpern opened the door to a tall figure in a long dark coat. A wide-brimmed black hat shadowed the visitor’s face. With only this dark silhouette, anyone could tell that the new arrival was Mr. Halpern’s opposite in every way, not the least bit delicate, conveying solid mass and strength even while standing in quiet repose. As he entered the foyer, light struck the strands of long white hair edging across his broad shoulders. The two men spoke in low tones that did not carry down the hall to the den. After a few minutes, they were shaking hands in farewell.
Charles believed the elderly Mr. Halpern was crying as he passed over the threshold and into the night, slowly, gently closing the door behind him.
Mallory was still watching the stranger as he removed his hat and coat, hanging them on the rack by the door. She was nodding almost imperceptibly, perhaps approving the superb tweed blazer and the blue silk shirt. The man’s collar was open by two buttons, marking him as a subscriber to the rabbi’s theory of poker and breath-restricting neckties.
Everyone at the table looked up as Malakhai appeared in the den. This man could never simply walk through a doorway, but always made a rather grand entrance. It was not affectation, but unavoidable, as he increased the energy level of a room to the tenth power. He smiled, and though his face bore deep lines of experience, something survived of the wild and handsome erstwhile boy. He had not yet given in to time, not bowed to it with a curved back nor any other sign of impairment. The long white lion’s mane was aglow, a trap for lamplight. His eyes were quite the opposite, large and gunmetal blue, dark places where light could not exist.
Charles looked at the faces of the men seated around him. Just for a moment, he thought they might applaud this famed magician merely for showing up at the table.
Everyone but Mallory stood up as Charles made the introductions to this old friend of the family. After presenting Kathleen Mallory, he winced as Malakhai asked, „May I call you Kathy?“
„No,“ she said.
Charles rushed in, speaking quickly. „It’s nothing personal. Everyone calls her Mallory, just Mallory.“
„I don’t,“ said the rabbi and Robin Duffy in unison.
Edward Slope resumed his seat and pushed the deck toward Mallory, ready for the game to begin – on several levels. „You have to pick your moments, sir. Only call her Kathy if you want to break her concentration. Otherwise it loses the annoyance value. Right, Kathy?“
She ignored him and shuffled the deck.
And now Charles apologized for neglecting the rule of ladies first. He ntroduced an empty space in the air beside Malakhai, claiming there was woman standing there. „And her name is Louisa.“
The rabbi inclined his head and smiled, speaking to the air. „My pleasure, madam. You haven’t changed at all.“ He turned to Malakhai. „I saw your last performance.“
„That was more than twenty years ago.“ Malakhai turned his head to the space beside him and appeared to be listening. He smiled at the rabbi. „Louisa thanks you for remembering us.“ And now he spoke to the entire gathering. „My wife plays a wicked game of poker. She’ll sit in for a few hands – if no one objects.“
„Your dead wife? I don’t think so,“ said Mallory.
„Kathy!“ The rabbi’s voice had the note of a warning bell. „This man is a guest in my house.“
„So?“ She turned to Malakhai. „Nothing personal. It’s bad enough I got roped into playing with these amateurs. I draw the line at dealing cards to spooks, okay?“
Though Rabbi Kaplan had suffered worse insults on his poker prowess in silence, he was obviously about to upbraid her again. His mouth was open, but nothing came out. Perhaps he was waffling between her offenses: the refusal to acknowledge a woman who wasn’t there, and her use of the word spook as a possible slur. In a further convolution of ethics, could he counsel her to avoid offending a guest by sanctioning the lie that a dead woman could competently play poker?
Charles leaned behind Robin’s chair and whispered to Mallory, „Did I mention that Malakhai helped my cousin design the pedestals for the crossbow illusion?“
„Pull up a chair, Louisa.“ Mallory’s ethics were miles more flexible than the rabbi’s. „Everybody, ante up.“
While the white chips were being tossed into the center of the table, Malakhai held out a chair for the phantom Louisa. After taking his own seat, he purchased poker chips and set them up for two players. Charles noticed the stacks were different patterns for husband and wife. Malakhai made a tidy square of four columns, while Louisa’s chips mirrored Edward Slope’s in recklessness.
After everyone had made a contribution to the pot, Mallory dealt out cards to each player, facedown, until she had completed six hands for the living and one for the dead. „The game is five-card draw. Deuces are not wild if it rains, and jacks are not wild, whether the moon is full or not. Real poker – got that?“
While the players were perusing their cards, Charles noticed the smoke wafting up from the ashtray in front of Louisa’s chair.
„I’ll open.“ Edward Slope tossed a blue chip in the center of the table. And then he stared at Louisa’s cigarette. The filter was stained with lipstick. And now the ashtray moved slightly, as though someone had jostled it.
Very smooth, as always.
Charles nodded to Malakhai, who was folding his cards to drop out of the hand. And now the other men were smiling at the ashtray, almost shyly, as if this were a flirtation of sorts. If Mallory noticed the diversion, she gave no indication.
It was Louisa’s turn to bet, and two blue chips flew into the center of the table of their own accord. Malakhai smiled at Edward Slope. „Louisa will see your bet and raise you.“
Charles admired the master’s timing. Malakhai would have to pick a moment when everyone was looking elsewhere before he placed the chips at the edge of the table and shot them into the center. One mistake and a delicate illusion would be ruined.
When Louisa’s bet had been matched, it was time for the draw. Edward Slope rapped on the table to announce that he would stay with his dealt hand, but Malakhai requested a card for Louisa. His wife’s cast-off playing card slid across the table toward Mallory, slowly gliding along the green felt, as if pushed by an unseen hand.
Mallory stared at the felt surface, no doubt looking for the string that made the card move. It would be only a hair’s width and as green as the tabletop, invisible in this low-key lighting. Charles knew there would be a hook at Mallory’s end of the table so the card could slide toward her, but he didn’t bother to look for the string’s anchor. It was probably a thin wire painted to match the wood at the edge of the table. This was more evidence of collaboration between Malakhai and the rabbi, for such preparations were always done in advance.
Mallory picked up the card and examined it. Of course the dot of adhesive would have remained with the string when Malakhai snapped it back.
After a moment, the magician leaned forward. „My wife wonders if she could have her card soon. You’ll forgive her impatience. She’s accustomed to Las Vegas tables, where the action is a little faster.“
There were grins all around the table. Only Mallory was not charmed with the dead woman. Her smile was forced when she looked up at Malakhai. „Nice work.“ She tossed a card toward the empty chair, and gave two cards to the rabbi.
„I’m out.“ Charles folded his exceptionally bad hand and stole a look at Mallory. Her face was masklike, impossible to read.
Her voice was dead calm when she spoke to Malakhai. „So how does the crossbow trick work?“
The magician smiled as if this were a great joke. „I’d never give up one of Max Candle’s illusions.“
She turned on Charles, and now he had no difficulty in reading her. Her eyes were drilling into him, and her voice was decidedly testy. „What’s the deal here?“
Charles opened his hands to show her that he was unarmed, and therefore not a fair kill. „I never promised he’d tell you anything.“
Mallory stared at the white-haired magician, her opponent, her new enemy. It would be easy for her to suss out Malakhai’s soft spot. It was sitting in the empty chair beside him.
In the next round of bets, Dr. Slope tossed two blue chips into the pot. Everyone turned to the empty chair. Louisa’s cards sat on the lip of the table, tipping upward for a moment, as though a ghost were perusing them. A stack of four chips slowly moved to the center of the table as the phantom player raised the bet.
Slope put his cards down. „I’m out.“
Mallory was staring at Louisa’s sherry glass, now magically full and sporting a lipstick stain to match the one on the cigarette. The rabbi and Robin were folding their cards and staring at the sherry glass. It was rocking to communicate Louisa’s impatience to get on with the game.
Casually, Mallory raised a beer bottle to her mouth, as if she were long accustomed to drinking with the dead. She met Louisa’s raise, plunking four chips into the pot. „I’m calling.“
Showdown.
Louisa’s cards flipped over. No bluff – the ghost held a straight flush of diamonds, neatly beating her opponent’s full house of three jacks and two treys.
Charles watched Mallory’s green eyes flicker, and he knew she was computing Louisa’s odds of drawing one card to make this remarkable hand in the first game. And the dead woman had raised the bet before the draw – how prescient. Mallory was probably considering how the cards of husband and wife might be combined.
Wordlessly, the deck was passed to Edward Slope. Over the next three rounds, Louisa folded every time, and Mallory won two of the pots. The deal had bypassed Louisa and fallen to Rabbi Kaplan. After the last show of cards, the rabbi stared at his dwindling chips as he handed the deck off to Charles.
They anted and made the first round of bets. Only Louisa drew cards in this game. „Two for Mrs. Malakhai,“ said Charles, dealing it toward the empty chair.
Malakhai smiled. „Louisa says you’ve known her long enough to call her by her first name.“
„Of course,“ said Charles. „And what – “
„The sherry!“ Robin was pointing at the glass.
Louisa’s glass had been nearly full a few moments ago, but now it was half empty and a thin film of residue was sliding down the side of the crystal. On the napkin by her glass was half a sandwich marked by the delicate imprint of red lips on the rye bread. Robin Duffy stared at the empty chair, eyes focused on that space where a woman’s face might be.
Mallory was far from enchanted.
Charles called a time-out and excused himself from the table. When he returned to the den with fresh beers from the kitchen, he saw the compact mirror lying open on Mallory’s knee, positioned to catch a pair of hands straying under the table. Her conversation was in a civilized tone, no impending bloodshed, though Charles predicted that would change when Louisa won again.
„Only part of the secret is in the platform,“ Malakhai was saying. „You need the intellectual contribution. You have to know what Max was planning for an effect. Then you can work backward to figure out a way to doit.“
„It’s just a trick.“ Mallory set her own spread of cards on the edge of the table with the same amount of overlap as Louisa’s. Her betting was so confident, the others dropped out of the game – except for the dead woman.
Edward Slope glared at Mallory, somewhat unkindly. „I even know it’s a bluff.“ He threw down his cards anyway. „I hate this.“
„There’s more to illusion than props.“ Malakhai seemed uninterested in the game as he continued his discussion with Mallory. „If you only have the brushes and paints, can you describe the picture an artist created with those materials?“
„It was an escape routine,“ said Mallory. „Handcuffs, crossbow – not much to it.“
„Fine, then why don’t you work it out yourself?“ Malakhai sat back and studied her with some amusement. He inclined his head toward the empty chair, as if Louisa had called for his attention. Turning back to Mallory, he said, „Louisa is calling your cards.“
Two more chips shot from the empty seat at the table and stopped at the center of the green circle. The dead woman’s cards flipped over, and this time, Louisa held a royal flush.
Mallory’s expression was deadly. A half-bright child could guess the odds against this hand. Though Mallory was perfectly still, she managed to convey the image of a ticking bomb. Yet she gave nothing away in her voice. „Oliver Tree shouldn’t have died. When I find out how the trick was sabotaged, I’ll know who killed him.“
„He probably botched the trick by himself,“ said Malakhai. „Or maybe it was bad reflexes. A man his age would’ve been excused for using breakaway cuffs, but he used the police cuffs – just like Max. Poor Oliver. What a stickler for detail.“ He leaned toward the empty chair, listening. „Louisa reminds you that you haven’t turned up your cards.“ He smiled. „Of course, she doesn’t want to embarrass you – if you’d rather not show your hand.“
Mallory never heard this insult, never touched her cards, she was so intently focused. „Oliver did the trick right. It worked in all ten rehearsals.“
Malakhai showed rare surprise. „How do you happen to know the exact number of tryouts? One of the other magicians – “
„No,“ she said. „They didn’t know anything about the trick until they saw it done in the park. That was their story.“
„So Oliver’s nephew told you?“
She shook her head. „I can’t find him. I was hoping you’d know where he was.“ This was close to an accusation.
„Can we finish this hand now?“ Dr. Slope lightly slapped the table in front of Mallory. „I wanna see your damn cards.“
„So you don’t believe in accidents,“ said Malakhai. „They do happen on stage. My wife’s death was an accident during a magic act.“
It was Charles’s turn to be surprised. This was more information about Louisa’s death than anyone else had. Why would Malakhai disclose this to people he hardly knew? The record contract for Louisa’s Concerto prohibited any explanation of the death, and now a large financial penalty was riding on the discretion of strangers.
Slope drummed his fingers on the felt surface, prompting Mallory to turn up her cards.
She never took her eyes off the magician. „How does a woman die by accidental magic?“
„Louisa was shot with a single-fire crossbow at twenty paces,“ said Malakhai, in the same tone he would use to describe his wife’s dress. „Fifteen minutes later, she was dead.“
Now he had everyone’s attention, even distracting Edward from Mallory ‘s mystery hand. The doctor was looking at the empty chair. „Shot where?“
Malakhai pointed to the chair. His finger lightly touched down on an invisible shoulder.
„Here?“ Mallory pointed to her own shoulder.
Malakhai nodded.
„What did the body look like – right after she died?“
The rabbi’s cards settled to the table. He stared at Mallory, shaking his head, silently accusing her of blatant rudeness.
Malakhai was less shocked as he turned to the empty chair beside him to stare at the woman who wasn’t there. „She has blood in her eyes, a bit of pink froth at her lips.“
„In her eyes?“ Mallory smiled somewhat inappropriately. „A blood splatter?“
„No, there’s a lot of blood streaming from the wound.“ He pointed to the level of the phantom’s shoulder. „But her eyes seem to be wounded from the inside looking out.“
Charles studied the frowning face of Edward Slope. The doctor leaned back in his chair, as though he needed this additional support, suddenly realizing that he was sharing the table with a bloodied corpse, and not the charming ghost that a more traditional audience visualized.
Mallory was sitting at attention. „Are there any other marks on her body? Wounds, bruising, anything like that?“
„No,“ said Malakhai, still dryly delivering the description of a dead body. „Just a reddish cast to her face, as if she were blushing to be seen that way – embarrassed by her own death.“
The effect on the medical examiner was deepening. Perhaps it disturbed Edward to have an animated cadaver intruding on the after hours of his workday. „And this was an accident?“
„As accidental as Oliver’s death,“ said Malakhai. „The old boy might’ve had a sporting chance if he’d ever seen the real trick performed. He was just taking his best guess.“
„Oliver’s plan was pretty straightforward,“ said Mallory. „He wanted to get out of the way of all those arrows.“
„If you believe it’s that simple, then you don’t need my help.“
„I never said I needed help.“
„You never would, Kathy,“ Edward Slope interjected. „Even if you did. All right, hotshot, maybe you can tell me how a dead woman beats you at poker.“
She picked up the pack of cards and splayed them, inspecting their backs very carefully. Edward watched this for a moment, then lowered his reading glasses and leaned toward her. „What’s the problem, Kathy? Did you forget how you marked the deck?“
Mallory looked up to glare at the magician. „I noticed that Louisa wins big when something moves on the table. Interesting distraction. I’m betting this deck is five cards light.“
The rabbi’s face went slack with surprise. David Kaplan was such a good poker player, Charles honestly couldn’t tell if the man was innocent or acting as Malakhai’s foil for a magic act. „You’re not suggesting that anyone at this table would palm cards.“
„I’m suggesting a bet – twenty dollars.“ Mallory laid a bill on the table. „Anybody want part of this?“
Malakhai’s smile was generous. „So you don’t believe in luck either?“
„It’s nothing personal.“ Edward spoke to the magician in a confidential tone. „She just really hates to be outdone at cheating.“
Mallory was not indignant, but merely surprised. „I don’t have to cheat to beat a pack of old ladies.“
„You wouldn’t talk that way if your father was here,“ said Rabbi Kaplan.
„Damn right she wouldn’t,“ said Robin Duffy. „That was her old man’s best line.“ He turned to smile at Mallory. „This is a friendly game, Kathy. For Christ’s sake – sorry, Rabbi – we’re playing for loose change here.“
Rabbi Kaplan spoke in a Sunday school lecture mode. „Kathy, there’s a reason we only play penny-ante poker. Do you know what that reason is?“
She nodded. „Because your wives won’t let you play for folding money.“
„Aside from that,“ said the rabbi.
„Less incentive to cheat?“
„Aside from that,“ said Edward Slope.
Robin put one arm around her shoulder for a brief hug. „Kathy honey, it’s just a friendly game. The money doesn’t matter.“
„That’s right,“ said Rabbi Kaplan. „It’s only a – “
„Winning is the main thing,“ said Robin. And Rabbi Kaplan had to think about that for a moment.
Mallory rounded up all the folded hands and added her five cards to the deck.
David Kaplan reached across the table to put one hand over hers. „Kathy, I forbid you to count those cards.“ Among all her father’s old friends, only the rabbi could forbid and get away with it.
Mallory was still holding on to the deck when she shook off his hand and rose from the table. „I’ll be right back.“
„Where is she going?“ Robin stared at the door as it closed behind her.
Charles listened to the other door opening off the hall. „The kitchen, I think.“
And now they could hear her rifling and slamming the drawers in the next room. „What is she – “
Edward lifted one hand to silence Robin so he could hear the metallic shuffle of utensils. He turned to the rabbi. „Why didn’t you lock up the silverware, David? You knew she was coming over tonight.“
A motor started up, and then a grinding noise ensued. „That’s the knife sharpener,“ said the rabbi. And now they all listened with increasing fascination.
The loud thwack on wood jolted David Kaplan. He tilted his head to one side. „The bread board?“
„Oh, fine,“ said Edward. „She’s cutting up the deck. Selfish brat. If she can’t palm all the aces, nobody can.“
But when Mallory returned to the den, the deck was intact – more or less. It was impaled on a barbecue skewer with a very sharp point. She pulled the cards loose, sliding them down the metal pole, then set them on the table before Rabbi Kaplan.
„This is too much.“ The rabbi held up the deck and stared at her through the neat hole in its center.
She gave him a smile – well, half a smile. „I did not count those cards, okay?“
Charles looked at the hole, dead center. If Malakhai was holding any cards for Louisa, he would find it difficult to put them back into play.
The magician was laughing, unoffended. The rabbi sighed.
„I broke your bread board,“ said Mallory, taking her seat at the table. „I’ll replace it.“
Edward Slope picked up one of the damaged cards and held it to the light. „It would’ve been so much easier with a bullet. All right, Kathy, I almost believe you didn’t shoot that balloon.“
Only Charles was deeply disturbed as he picked up his hand and stared at the holes. This trick of hers should have been impossible. His good fleet brain was calculating the tensile strength of a deck of cards, estimating the force, the amount of tightly focused rage necessary to do what she had done.
They began the next round with the click of plastic chips falling into a pile at the center of the table. Perhaps, coincidentally, Louisa entered into a losing streak.
As Mallory would say, Yeah, right.
Three hands later, Mallory was sitting before the largest pile of chips, and Charles was still pondering the holes in the playing cards. He had only heard one thwack of the bread board. Maybe she was trying her own hand at illusion. She could have skewered them quietly, one by one, and then broken the board for effect. Perhaps this was her version of flexing muscles for an opponent. On the darker side, he now believed she could have done in the deck all at once – and in anger. Both possibilities worried him.
She was still pumping Malakhai for information. Everyone else was diverted by the movement of Louisa’s sherry glass. It was levitating, floating in the air above the table and tipping back in the natural fashion of an unnatural person sipping her wine. The rigging for this trick was seamless. No illusion of Malakhai’s had ever been destroyed by an obvious wire. The glass settled delicately to the wood.
Marvelous piece of work.
Yet the magician had failed to distract Mallory from her inquisition. Now he threw up his hands. „I don’t see the problem. I’m sure you know Oliver died because his cuff key broke in the lock.“
Her smile was so slight it was barely there. „But how did you know that?“
Indeed, how did Malakhai know? Charles remembered Riker saying that the press release would not be distributed until tomorrow. If the other magicians had known about the broken key, they would surely have mentioned it by now.
„Very simple,“ said Malakhai. „I asked the detective who made out the accident report. It is his case.“
Apparently, she took that as a challenge to her authority. Her eyes narrowed, a sure sign of trouble. „It’s my case now. And after I wrap it up, I might even have time left to find out who murdered your wife.“
„She died by accident,“ said Malakhai. „An audience witnessed it.“
„Oliver Tree had a million witnesses. So what? Let’s start with the arrow in Louisa’s shoulder. Here, you said.“ She pointed to her own shoulder and turned to the doctor. „Deltoid muscle, right? And you think I never pay attention during the autopsies.“ She faced Malakhai again. „The arrow had nothing to do with her death. The murder came later – in that fifteen-minute window.“
„The arrow hit an artery,“ said Malakhai. „Louisa lost a lot of blood.“
Mallory shook her head slowly and turned to Edward Slope. „Correct me if I’m wrong, Doctor. I could stick a hole in your aorta and you wouldn’t bleed to death in fifteen minutes.“
„Right,“ said Edward, studying his cards. „Shoulder wound like that one simple pressure would’ve stopped the bleeding. Medical attention within the hour would’ve prevented the damage of shock.“ He looked up with a sudden afterthought. „But the timing is always off in an emergency. People panic and – “
Mallory shook her head. „Panicky civilians always estimate on the high side. If an ambulance shows in four minutes, the witnesses claim it took forty. So if Malakhai says fifteen minutes, it might’ve been only ten, or even five minutes.“
The magician glanced at the empty chair. „I’ve never spoken about her death in public. It’s – “
„Sensible,“ she said, nodding in approval. „Never talk without a lawyer present. Your wife knew her killer, and she was alone with him when she died. So I figure she was carried backstage. That’s where the arrow was removed. Right?“
Malakhai nodded.
„And she was in a place with some cover, a door to close. Right again?“ She didn’t wait for his answer. „Of course. The perp needed privacy to kill her. So she’s lying on the floor, and he takes a pillow, something soft that won’t leave any marks or – “
„I’ve got a problem with the pillow,“ said Slope. „Not enough trauma for retinal damage and discoloration.“
„Right,“ said Mallory. „The bleeding eyes, the red blush. And you forgot the pink froth at her mouth. We’ll just put some pressure on her chest, okay?“ She turned back to Malakhai. „So she’s lying on the floor being smothered to death. But she’s not dying fast enough to suit the man who’s killing her. Louisa struggles, she’s fighting to stay alive. That’s where most of the blood is coming from. It’s pumping out of the wound because she’s using all her strength to push the pillow away so she can breathe. She’s getting weaker – all that blood, not enough air. But she won’t die. And the killer? He’s frightened, panicked. People are gathering outside the door. One of them might come in at any moment. And she’s still fighting him, still holding on, waiting for someone to help her. So he puts one knee on her chest to pin her to the floor. And then he puts all his weight on top of her – crushing the life out of her. She tries to scream, but all the while, he’s pressing down with that pillow. She’s in pain, but still fighting. Then she stops screaming. She knows no one can hear her. No one is coming. It’s so quiet, she can hear the bones breaking in her chest. And finally, finally she – “
„Kathy, that’s enough!“ said the rabbi, breaking the spell she had cast over the room. „This is his wife’s death you’re discussing. It’s – “
„Very rude,“ said Dr. Slope. „And presumptuous. I can think of three fast poisons that would’ve produced froth and retinal hemorrhage.“
„Poison is unreliable,“ said Mallory, as if she were exchanging cookie recipes with the medical examiner. „Smothering is better – no obvious marks on the throat, no chemical residue in the body.“ She spoke to the empty seat at the table. „Who killed you, Louisa?“
Malakhai slowly turned his head toward the phantom. „She declines to answer.“
Mallory smiled. „I thought she might. Did she tell you to call a lawyer?“ The rabbi slammed his hand flat on the table. „Kathy!“ Mallory feigned surprise, but not well. „I didn’t accuse him.“ Dr. Slope folded his arms across his chest, completely disengaged from the game. „What did the local coroner say?“
Malakhai shrugged. „There was no autopsy, no investigation.“ Mallory nodded. „It was easier for the local police to write up the death as accidental, less paperwork – as long as no one protested the finding. And I’m betting you didn’t. What a lucky break for the killer.“ She pushed her chair back from the table. „I think I’ve made my point on accidental death.“
„But not proved it,“ said Malakhai. „If you can prove murder more than fifty years after the fact, I’ll tell you how Max Candle did the Lost Illusion.“
The weight of personality was dipping back toward Malakhai’s side of the table. He was calling her out.
All eyes were turned on Mallory.
„I told you, Malakhai – I don’t need your help. And I don’t need incentive either. Oliver dedicated his last trick to your wife. Maybe he was feeling guilty. Maybe you were angry. If I find out he’s the one who killed Louisa, you’re going to need a good criminal lawyer.“
„The detective in charge said the matter was closed – accidental death. The key was an old one. He said it was clear – “
She raised one hand to cut him off. „Oliver did restoration work on old buildings. Not just the woodwork – old screws, pipes, rails. The old man had a lot of experience with metal fatigue. He didn’t risk his life on a fifty-year-old cuff key.“
„That’s your opinion.“
„That’s a fact,“ said Mallory. „He ordered new keys from a machine shop he did business with. I checked that out three hours ago.“
But if Charles recalled the events of the day – and he did – she was still eating pizza in his kitchen only two hours ago.
„The new keys were a better grade of steel – stronger,“ said Mallory.
Malakhai waved a hand to dismiss her argument – her lie. „So Oliver confused a new key with an old one.“
„Sorry,“ said Mallory, not at all sorry. „The machinist still has the old one. He kept it for a reorder. Oliver wanted ten keys. According to the shop foreman, he used a new one for every rehearsal. Now that was a little extreme, wasn’t it? Unnecessary, even with his life on the line. I suppose you could say he was paranoid about metal fatigue.“
Had she gone too far that time? Charles remembered Oliver as a trusting soul who had done business contracts on a handshake, hardly a paranoid personality. But a great many years had passed since Oliver and Malakhai had met. And Mallory was such a confident deceiver, the magician appeared to believe her, electing not to argue the point. „Perhaps he had more than one old key?“
„Wrong again,“ said Mallory. „Oliver told the machinist to keep it safe. Said it was his only key, a souvenir from Faustine’s Magic Theater. You performed there, too. I’d bet even money you had a key just like it. Still got yours?“
„You seriously – “
„I know you’re part of this, Malakhai. You’re just too damn helpful in showing me the error of my ways.“
Malakhai smiled with just a trace of condescension.
„No,“ she said. „You only think I tipped my hand by accident. Wherever you go, keep looking over your shoulder. I’ll be right behind you – and that should worry you. Just ask anyone at this table how twisted I really am.“
Robin Duffy looked up with great surprise, as though she had shot him in the heart.
Mallory turned to the rabbi, who knew her better than all the rest of this company. Her face was an open challenge, defying David Kaplan to deny it – waiting for him to contradict her. And now she must realize that she would wait forever.
The rabbi turned away from her.
While Charles was casting about for words to say in her favor, it was Edward Slope who came gallantly riding to Mallory’s defense.
The doctor put one arm around her shoulders and slowly shook his head in denial of her twistedness. Then he leaned toward Malakhai. „Watch your back. You’ve seen what she does to puppies.“