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.