Now You See It (15 page)

Chapter Seventeen

You Can Do Magic

The prospect of escape gave breakfast a festive air. Camden's voice was a little better. Must have been all the cola. We had more Coke for the road as well as a big bag of nutrition-less snacks.

I made the turn onto I-85 toward Charlotte. “We will finally gaze upon the mysterious Ali's Cavern. I was beginning to believe it existed in another realm.”

Camden was already into the chips. “Are you sure they're open on Thursdays?”

“According to their website they're open Thursday through Saturday for lunch.”

“I get lunch, too?”

“You're going to take part in a little deception. I want you to pretend you can read minds.”

“Okay.”

“Try to look mysterious and otherworldly.”

“That'll be extra.”

I passed a couple of slow-moving trucks and swung back into the right-hand lane. “Let me try out my theories on you. Rahnee Nevis and Jolly Bob were rivals for the Magic Club. She thinks he's a loser. He thinks she's too ambitious. WizBoy lied to me about the box, so he may have lied about other things. Bartender Jilly would do anything to be on stage, and I'm not sure what Bart's game is.”

“All this over a box that may or may not have belonged to Houdini.”

“Here's something about the Finches' box. Houdini's personal props were in a museum that burned in the mid-90s. Quite a few of these props survived and were sold. I'm thinking if the box was one of those items rescued from the fire, then it's the real deal.”

“And filled with evil power.”

“Only if you believe Bart, which I don't. For some reason, he's misdirecting us.”

Camden tipped the bag so I could get a handful of chips. “If he wants the box, why doesn't he go talk to the Sacred Willow Brothers, or whoever they are?”

“If they even exist. I say we storm the temple later today.”

“I'm all for it. I haven't stormed anything in a while.” He cleared his throat. He was keeping his voice to a whisper. “Anything else about Houdini?”

“Now there was a man who had no problem with self-esteem. He practically willed himself to succeed. He flew airplanes and starred in his own silent films, and he was married to the same woman for over thirty years. Can you see you and Ellin managing that?”

“Could be a challenge.”

“Here's something really interesting. He and Arthur Conan Doyle were big pals.”

“The man who wrote the Sherlock Holmes stories?”

“Same guy. They had a falling out over spiritualism. Doyle believed. Houdini didn't.”

“That's odd. Sherlock's such a logical character.”

“Well, apparently, Doyle was convinced by someone probably like the Deadly Sheila that his departed loved ones, his brother and son, communicated from the Great Beyond, what the medium called ‘The Summerland.' Houdini couldn't believe his otherwise intelligent friend was such a sucker.”

“Houdini didn't believe at all, then?”

“He wanted to. He'd tried to reach his mother, and when he couldn't, he declared war on all mediums, fortune-tellers, so-called psychics. You would've been on his hit list.” I watched as a string of cars shot around the Fury like bullets. I was going sixty-five, but apparently, this was too slow. “He was even on a
Scientific American
committee that offered two thousand dollars for an actual spirit photograph and twenty-five hundred dollars to any medium who could show them real results. He was serious about it.”

“Did he and Doyle ever reconcile their differences?”

“Nope. Doyle was one of those people mediums called ‘shut eyes.' He couldn't be disillusioned or turned from his belief no matter what.”

“Exactly like Sheila.”

“Houdini spent his entire farewell vaudeville tour exposing spiritualists. There's even a theory he was poisoned by them—that'd be a great mystery—but most of the research said he was suffering from appendicitis and died when someone punched him in the stomach too hard.”

“That's weird.”

“And he died on Halloween.”

“Now you're scaring me.” Camden observed the scenery for a while and then said, “He was married for over thirty years, huh?”

“He left a message for his wife. ‘Rosabelle, believe.' If she ever heard a psychic say that, she'd know it was really him.”

“I take it she never heard this message.”

“Nope.”

“Maybe she did, but didn't want to admit it.”

“This from someone who gets messages all day long.”

“Oh, I've gotten messages, all right, loud and clear. I just didn't want to hear them.”

I had to slow down for a driver who'd never gotten the message on How to Merge. “We're talking about Ellin now, right?”

“Well, I really hope she'll be able to do something about Sheila.”

“What if she can't? What if it's ‘Ready To Believe' at any cost?”

“I'll have to think of something.”

“You know, there's a whole city full of women. You're bound to find someone else who can be the one.”

“Nope. Ellie's the one. Always has been.”

“Can you explain that to me? Why Ellin? You've had dozens of girlfriends. Why her?”

“Can you explain why you love Kary? She and Ellie are both beautiful blonde women who are independent, ambitious, and downright stubborn when it comes to getting their way. Why one and not the other?”

I didn't know how to explain it. It wasn't just her beauty. Something in Kary reached out to me, to the inner me, the me I was always telling to shut up. It was as if she could see the person I was supposed to be, the better self, while I wanted to be this other better David Randall for her.

“My reason is heavy with psychological significance,” I said.

“Mine is completely selfish. I need looking after, and I know Ellie will take care of me.”

I had indeed seen evidence of this. “You also know she's all about money and power.”

“I can pull her from the dark side.”

“Think so? You've got your work cut out for you.”

“She's worth it.”

I turned on my signal for our exit. “Well, I've got another job for you. Pretend to be a mentalist, so I can solve this case.”

***

WAM was doing a lot better than WOW. Ali's Cavern was a huge flashy club, all black and white, with touches of red and gold, impressive and elegant all at the same time. The large stage had a computerized lighting system and red velvet curtains. An ornate chandelier hung over the dining area. No glitter balls for this crowd.

At noon, the club was quiet, with a few people eating sandwiches and a few more painting some scenery. “This Magic Moment” was the background music.

“You know, Camden, I never realized how many songs there are that have to do with magic. I'll bet I've heard a dozen this week.”

“It's in the air.”

A trim young woman in a tuxedo greeted us. “Good afternoon, gentlemen. Welcome to Ali's Cavern. Two for lunch?”

“No, thank you,” I said. “We heard you were looking for outstanding acts. This is Camden. I'm sure you've heard of him.”

The woman looked slightly confused. “I don't believe so.”

“The mentalist? We've been on a twelve-city tour, opened for Penn and Teller in Vegas. He's the finest ESP act you're likely to see.”

She looked at Camden again, taking in the faded jeans, worn sneakers, and general dishabille. “Really? And you are?”

“John Fisher, Camden's agent and manager. Give her a sample, Camden. She doesn't seem convinced.”

Camden took her hand. “Nice to meet you, Donna.” His faint voice made him sound even more mysterious. “You'd rather be skiing Beech Mountain, I see.”

She stared and then began to laugh. “My boss put you up to this, didn't he? That's very good. You really had me going.”

“You recently lost your mother. She told you to look after your sister. ‘Look after Annie,' she said. You promised you would.”

The laugh stopped in her throat. She pulled her hand away. “H-how could you know that? No one was there but me when my mother—”

Camden gave me a look that said he'd had enough. “I'm sorry,” he said to the woman. “Sometimes I get a very strong impression. You must have loved your mother very much.”

She straightened her jacket. “Mister Fisher, I don't think our customers would want that much information revealed in front of everyone.”

“We can tone it down, no problem.”

“I'm afraid we're booked at present, and truthfully, no matter how good, we don't get much call for mentalists.”

“Can you suggest another club, then? If not here, then, say, Greensboro? Parkland?”

“The only clubs in Parkland I could recommend are the Magic Club and the Bombay Club.”

“So you hire magicians from those clubs?”

“On occasion. If they're exceptionally good.”

Camden closed his eyes and put his hands to his temples. “I see the initials ‘T. F.' I'm getting a strong impression of a magician. Tom, perhaps? No, Taft.”

“Taft Finch?” Donna looked at him askance. “I know Taft Finch.”

“He performed here Friday—no, Saturday night.”

I wasn't sure how much he was guessing or if he'd picked up something. Either way, it worked.

“Saturday night,” Donna said.

“Are you aware he died Sunday morning while apparently attempting an escape act?” I asked.

“Yes, I heard about that. A horrible thing to happen. He was a great guy. He always bought a round for everyone and kept us up late telling about his adventures. I liked him well enough to book him several times. Do they know what happened?”

“There's a possibility he was murdered.”

“Good lord.”

“Anyone here at Ali's Cavern have a grudge against him? Maybe they weren't happy that someone from Wizards of Wonder was working this club.”

She hesitated. “No, we're over that.”

Camden closed his eyes. “I see some sort of conflict. A secret revealed. A split with no hope of reconciliation.”

Reconciliation. He'd been saving that one up. Donna looked uncomfortable. “All right, so maybe some of them aren't over it.”

“Then why would a member of WOW be allowed here?” I asked.

“From what I understand, Taft knew the parties involved, and he smoothed things over. Because of that, he was the only member of WOW who could perform in the club.”

Hmm, maybe a matter of contention between the Finch brothers? Lucas had said it was hard to find work, yet Taft could perform in the war zone. And exactly how much money was a considerable amount? Had Taft sold some of the Finches' special collection?

“Donna, do you happen to know the name of the WAM magician whose trick was revealed?”

Her eyes narrowed. “What's with all the questions? I thought you wanted an audition.”

Camden moved his hands as if feeling invisible walls. “The vibrations here are strong. There may be a way to solve this mystery, a connection to the feud. Perhaps if we could speak with this magician, we could know what happened to Taft.”

She took a step away from him. “I don't know. He wasn't with WAM for very long. He wasn't quite as accomplished as our usual magicians, but he did a good job with the rings.”

“Rings? Silver rings?”

“Yes, and sometimes scarves.”

“I see his name,” Camden said in his best far away voice, which sounded really spooky thanks to his laryngitis. “Omar the Ring Master.”

“Oh, wow,” she said. “That's it. You are really good. That's what he called himself.”

Now that we had her attention, I said, “Just a few more questions, please. When did Taft leave here Saturday night?”

“He performed from midnight until one a.m. As usual, everyone sat around talked, had a few drinks. Then he got a phone call and said he had to go.”

I glanced at Camden, who went back into his act. “A phone call. From his brother? I hear a man's voice—no, a woman's.”

“I didn't hear who called, and he didn't say,” Donna said. “It must have been a voice-mail message. He said, ‘I've had some good news, Donna. See you later,' and hurried out.” A group of people came into the club behind us. “You'll have to excuse me.”

“You're sure you can't grant us an audition?” I asked.

Camden pulled on my sleeve. “That's all right, John. I feel the spirits calling me to move on.”

“Very well. Thank you for your time, Miss Donna.”

She'd kept her eyes on Camden. “You're welcome.”

***

We got back in the Fury. “Well, that's interesting,” I said. “When Taft finished his act at the Magic Club, he hurried out to get to Charlotte by midnight. Does his act here and then gets a phone call that probably lures him back to the Magic Club.”

“‘I've heard some good news.' Possibly about the missing box?”

“Maybe Lucas still has Taft's phone, and we can see who called him. By the way, you were quite convincing.”

“I really didn't mean to depress her, though.”

“I'm sure you got up this morning thinking, ‘Oh, I'll go to Charlotte and upset a
total stranger by repeating her mother's dying words.' And how about Omar being a former member of WAM and possibly the one who blew the whistle on Jolly Bob? I'll have to put Kary onto that part of the puzzle.”

My phone rang. It was Lucas returning my call. “Sorry, Randall. I've been working to get Taft's memorial service ready. To answer your questions, I can't say Taft liked the idea of the bet. But there was no way anyone was going to figure out how to open the box.”

“Well, suppose someone got impatient and broke it open to get your cabinet key. Is there something really valuable you don't want to lose?”