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?“