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.