„The key card.“ Her voice had an edge to it.
They were done with pleasantries. This was an order she was issuing, and nothing in his lifetime of erupting pimples and dateless Saturday nights had prepared him to challenge a tall blonde.
He gave her his most ingratiating smile as he handed her the electronic card. „Your English is flawless, Mrs. Malakhai.“
The narrow beam of her penlight played over his face as Malakhai lay sleeping, all the effects of gravity undone. The light moved on, traveling from wall to bedroom wall. Everything was exactly as the maid had described it this morning. The desk clerk’s skepticism had taken her by surprise. The rest of the hotel staff was under the impression that a woman occupied this suite.
Mallory entered the bathroom, but she did not find the anticipated red hairs in the brush or the comb. And contrary to the maid’s experience, tonight there was no lipstick-stained tissue in the wastebasket. Louisa was fading away.
She whirled around at the sudden brightness of another light.
Malakhai stood behind her in the glow of the bedside lamp, wearing a long black robe. His back was turned to her with utter disregard for any threat that she might pose. Her suitcase lay on the bed, and her gun was inside, stored there because the fitted tuxedo jacket would not close on the bulge of her shoulder holster.
The lock clicked, then he held up a copy of Faustine’s rod of key plugs. „It’s the original, if you’re still curious about that. I never go anywhere without it.“ Malakhai’s hand grazed the contents of the small valise. „Not the typical young lady’s overnight case.“
He pulled a cloth sack off the wine bottle she had raided from the basement. „Ah, you New York girls. Very chic.“ And now he unwrapped the linen covering two wineglasses. When he dipped back into the case, his hand passed over her revolver in favor of the pearl-handled corkscrew.
Mallory had lost the element of surprise and the opportunity to do real damage. She was not in control here – not yet.
As she came up behind him, her voice was full of accusation. „You arranged for Charles to do the Lost Illusion at Carnegie Hall.“
„Charles was invited to do a tribute to Max Candle.“ Not the least bit defensive, he smiled as he worked the corkscrew into the mouth of the bottle. „I gave him some of Max’s old warm-up tricks – not a death finale. The Lost Illusion was Charles’s idea. He’s doing it for you, Mallory.“
Malakhai inhaled deeply. „Your perfume is a bit overdone. Louisa was more discreet.“ He appraised the close-fitting tuxedo and the top hat. „But apart from that – not a bad impersonation.“
She sat down on the edge of the bed. This was not going well. „Did you tell Charles how the illusion was done?“
„No, he worked out his own solution.“ Malakhai finished uncorking the bottle and poured red wine into the crystal glasses.
„But it’s not Max Candle’s solution?“
„Come to the show.“ He handed her a glass. „Judge for yourself.“
„You wouldn’t hurt him?“
„Of course not.“ And now he was unsettled, incredulous. „I watched Charles grow up. How could I – “
„He looks a lot like Max Candle, doesn’t he?“
„If he were only as handsome as Max, he wouldn’t have to risk his neck to impress you.“ Malakhai sat down on the other side of the bed and lifted his glass. „It’s not going to work though, is it? He’s not your type. I think I’d be afraid of the man who was.“
He sipped his wine, not catching the dark look that passed across her face.
Mallory was staring at the pillow on the unwrinkled side of the bed. „You forgot the mint.“
He turned to see the gold foil resting on a pristine pillowcase. Did this sadden him? Yes.
„Time to give it up,“ said Mallory. „She’s gone, isn’t she?“
He shook his head as he stared at the pillow.
Mallory pressed this one small advantage. „Oh, you know who she was. And you still have a lot of the stories. But it’s getting harder to see her, isn’t it? What will you lose tomorrow? If you kill Nick Prado, I’ll put you away. And after a while, you won’t even remember why I did that to you.“
He disappointed her with a slow smile. „Would that take all the fun out of it, Mallory?“
„Yes. I’d rather nail Prado for Oliver’s murder. What do you suppose he did with Franny Futura?“
„No idea.“ He leaned back to rest against the headboard.
Mallory swirled the wine, then set the glass on the bedside table. „You know he has to kill Futura.“ She looked at Malakhai, hoping to impress him with her contempt. „Prado needs somebody to take the fall when the body turns up. You’re the perfect patsy – certifiably insane. Your home address is a hospital.“
Malakhai swallowed the last of his wine and lifted one shoulder to say, Yes, so? He turned to the window of city lights and the glowing streams of midnight traffic. „I really have no idea where Franny is. I wouldn’t lie to you.“
„But you won’t help me either.“
Mallory was planning to punish him with another blow to the Louisa illusion, but now she noticed that the hotel mint was gone, and his wife’s pillow bore the deep impression of a human head. A shadow was crawling along the wall at the corner of her field of vision, but she wouldn’t give Malakhai the satisfaction of staring at it.
Done with distractions, she wondered if she could bludgeon him with something else and hit him in another soft spot.
The shadow was closer, larger, massing upward as if to strike her. Before Mallory could stop the reflex action, her hand hovered in the air, moving toward the open suitcase and her revolver. „Was Max Candle a war lover like Prado?“ Passing over the suitcase, she reached for the glass instead of her gun.
Malakhai took this as a request for a refill and leaned across the bed to pour out more burgundy. „No, Max never loved the war.“ He topped off her glass. „The killing sickened him.“
„You told me the war was sublime.“
„The sublime can be wonderful or horrible, but it’s always an exalted thing. For Max, the war was a chance to find out what he was made of. He acquitted himself heroically, and he kept his medals locked in a drawer.“
She sipped the wine, tasting it this time. „What about Oliver?“
„He was shipped back to the States for basic training, and the army kept him there. They made him a supply clerk. Poor Oliver. He wanted action, but it never came his way.“ Malakhai cradled the bottle in his arm „Every one of us went off to a different war. Nick did fall in love with it, but Emile saw it as a simple matter of honor and duty. And it was all Franny could do just to survive it.“
„And you?“
„I thought I’d killed my wife. That was the biggest event of my life. Nothing could surpass it. The war was simply going on around me.“
„But after the war, when you saw Emile, he told you what really happened to Louisa.“
The water glass on the night table had lipstick on it now. When had he done that? The ashtray held a smoking cigarette with the imprint of ruby lips.
„A very stylish interrogation, Mallory.“ He sipped his wine and sighed. „So this is police brutality. I can’t imagine why anyone complains. But you don’t know – “
„I know everything. Louisa had no idea what the rest of you were plotting. Her plan was to make a run for the border after the show was over.“
„How did – “
„Louisa thought she was going to do the act the way she did it every night. When you drew blood, she wasn’t faking the shock.“
„No, she never expected me to hurt her – not ever.“
„Prado’s idea, right? She thought Max Candle was going to do the routine with a wire and a ribbon, not a real arrow. It was Max’s act, but he couldn’t go through with Prado’s plan.“
„Max couldn’t stand the idea of hurting her. He loved Louisa.“