Magicide (15 page)

CHAPTER 37

Thursday, August 11, 9:45 a.m.

At The Rabbit & The Hat, Robert Digbee had just walked to his front door and had keys in hand when he saw in the parking lot the two detectives get out of an SUV. They were headed in his direction, all brisk-looking and business-like. They squinted from the bright sunlight, which he thought made them look even more menacing.

Before he could lock the door and disappear into his workshop they’d spotted him. The badges they displayed glinted in the sun. “Robert Digbee?”

“I haven’t got time to talk to you,” he said abruptly. He rattled his keys. “I’m closing this morning. Important appointment.”

“We could do it later at the station,” Pizzarelli said, matching Digbee’s hurried tone. “Your choice.”

Digbee scowled. He really didn’t want this distraction now. The boy was coming. He had magic business in the workshop and later at the hotel, where he would evaluate the sounds and lights and staging for his forthcoming performance. Maybe he’d take the boy with him. Give him a taste of the real thing.
“Five minutes, then.” He opened the door and the detectives followed him into the shop.

Pizzarelli eyed the magic magazines, costumes and paraphernalia for sale. “Amazing place you have here. How long have you owned it?”

“Is that what you want to talk about?” Digbee asked rudely.

“Not really,” Cheri said. “We want to ask you about Dayan Franklyn. You know him, don’t you? When did you see him last?”

“Maxwell’s protégé. He was supposed to help with the production of the roller coaster escape.” His voice filled with disgust. “I saw him backstage about six o’clock in the evening. I sent him to help Maxwell dress, and I never saw him after that.”

“So you’re saying you haven’t seen him since Monday night?” The detective picked up a beginner’s magic kit and turned it, appearing to read the back.

Knowing he wasn’t here to buy, Digbee took it out of his hand and placed it back on the display. “No. When I do, he’ll have some questions to answer.” He turned to Cheri. “Is that all?”

“Not quite. What do you think of Dayan, him being Maxwell’s protégé and all?”

Protégés. A magician’s dream—to pass on the legacy to a worthy “son”—or his worst nightmare. Digbee hesitated, at the same time curious and suspicious of this line of questioning. “Do you think he murdered Maxwell?” he asked.

“We don’t have any evidence of that, as yet,” Pizzarelli said. “But we’d sure like to talk to him. Do you have any idea where he might be?”

“You try his apartment?”

Pizzarelli nodded. “Landlord hasn’t seen him. Nobody seems to know where he is.”

“Well, I can’t help you. I never approved of the effort Maxwell put into the boy’s career, but that was his business.”

Cheri produced a digital notebook and began tapping its keys. “Why didn’t you approve?”

“He should have put that energy into helping Peter. Peter has great talent that he’s wasting on kids.” He jingled his car keys. “I have things to do. Are we done here?”

“No,” Pizzarelli said. “What can you tell us about the religion Maxwell was involved in? Some kind of magician’s thing?”

Robert Digbee shifted his weight from one foot to the other and looked at his watch. Magic as a religion had never been a comfortable subject for him. How had these detectives sniffed out that track? Edmund Meiner, no doubt. The idiot couldn’t keep his mouth shut, had probably let something slip.

“Sooner you answer our questions, the sooner you’ll be off for your appointment.”

Could he put them off by offering to come later to the station to answer their questions? No, later he would be at the theater, and he needed all his powers of concentration for the Bullet Catch. Still, he summoned a relaxed tone and tried. “Can we talk about this later?”

Pizzarelli ignored the question and pressed. “We want to know about the summer solstice ritual up on Sunrise Mountain.”

“It’s nothing. Just an annual thing Maxwell does for publicity,” Digbee said smoothly. “Ancient Celts believed midsummer, when the sun is at its highest, was the time to celebrate the power of the God and Goddess. The Goddess is pregnant and the God is most virulent, at his greatest strength.” Suddenly his words came fast and hard. “Maxwell tells everybody the summer solstice ritual renews his powers. The fans love it—they eat it up. It helps his reputation.”

Cheri said, “I read that ancient pagans celebrated midsummer by building a big bonfire to boost the sun’s energy so the harvest would be good and people jumped over the fire for luck.”

“Well, whatever.” Digbee jingled his car keys again.

“Is this a black magic religion?” Pizzarelli asked.

“Of course not. I don’t know anything about black magic religions.”

“But you’re a master magician. You would—if they existed—right?”

“If they existed. I’m telling you, nobody pays any serious attention to that stuff.” He shook his head vehemently. “Whatever you’ve heard, don’t believe a tenth of it. You can’t imagine the rumors that spread in the magic community at the slightest provocation. Magicians are notoriously jealous of each other, and all of them were jealous of Maxwell.”

“Were
you
jealous of Maxwell?” Cheri asked.

Digbee felt his face redden. “Of course not. I taught him everything he knows. Now, if you’re through, I
have
to go.”

Pizzarelli gave him a friendly smile. “We appreciate your help.”

He opened the front door for the detectives and desert heat swooped in.

The detective paused in the doorway and said, “Oh, by the way, one of the people in the roller coaster was substituted at the last minute. His wife took his place and she died in the crash. How would that affect the stunt?”

Digbee sighed in frustration. “Throwing the weight factor off affects the speed of the car. If a lighter person was in the car, it would travel faster down the track. The second-count timing that the magician would be counting on would be thrown off.”

“Who was in charge of managing the people who were supposed to ride in the car?”

“The technical director, me. I talked to all the people in the committee before the ride. The big guy was eating a hamburger he wasn’t supposed to be eating. I made him throw it away.”

“He told us a vendor came through with a tray of burgers for everyone and said it was okay to have one. Did you see anyone else eating?”

“What vendor? The committee was secluded in a green room. It was off-limits to anyone else.” The green room was a stage and television designation for a room where performers gathered to wait before going onstage. Behind Digbee the automatic air conditioning in the building kicked on. He glared at them, calculating how much money he was losing by keeping the door open for detectives who didn’t budge.

Cheri said, “So they were all there by themselves when you left them?”

“Yes. Look, I must excuse myself.”

Pizzarelli thrust a business card at him. “If you hear from Dayan Franklyn, we’d like a phone call. Otherwise, that’s it for now.” He stepped through the doorway, his gaze now towards the parking lot, “but don’t leave town.”

The old magician pocketed the card without a glance and gave them a sarcastic sneer. “You must be kidding,” he said, closing the door in Cheri’s face.

* * *

In his workshop Robert Digbee peered at the air conditioning thermostat. The day promised to be another August scorcher. The overhead unit continued its steady, reassuring throb of sound, and he decided against turning it up to max.

The chill he felt in his body had nothing to do with air conditioning.  Images of Maxwell’s summer solstice ritual danced in his head. Had those detectives thought it was black magic? What did they know? More importantly,
how
did they know? How had they found out about the taping? Maybe not Meiner’s big mouth. Had that little prick, Dayan, told them? This whole thing was getting out of hand. It would require his greatest powers of concentration to remain calm in order to deal appropriately with the dark evil rising around him.

The Bullet Catch. He was about to perform the most incredible feat of his career, the one illusion that would establish him as the greatest magician the contemporary world had ever seen. Maxwell’s death had provided the opportunity for this triumph, and now Maxwell’s death threatened it.

He began to feel nervous about everything, and feeling nervous was the most dangerous thing a magician could do.

His morose thoughts were interrupted by the ringing tune of his cell phone. He flipped open the cover and recognized the lengthy numbers. Even though he stood where a rush of cold air from the electrical unit assailed him, sweat gathered in his armpits. He held the phone tightly against his ear as if by crushing it he could crush this threat.

He listened, and when he finally spoke, he knew he sounded panicky. “I’m telling you, the police are asking questions about religious rites. If they find out what happened, we’ll all be in big trouble. I’m too old for this shit.” He listened to the caller’s response, and his panic ebbed into a wave of anger. “You don’t give a fuck about anybody but yourself! Let me tell you—I’ll not go down alone in this! Kiss your career good-bye!”

CHAPTER 38

Thursday, August 11, 10:25 a.m.

In the parking lot in front of The Rabbit & The Hat Cheri and Pizzarelli sat in the Explorer waiting for the air con to kick in and the hot air of the interior to dissipate. After several minutes Pizzarelli said, “S’posed to rain this weekend. I’m ready for a little cool down.” He began to back out of the parking space.

A new suspicion mushroomed in Cheri’s mind and she put a hand on his arm. “Pull over there under that tree, and let’s wait a minute. Digbee was in an awful hurry to get rid of us, and I’d like to know why. I’d like to know who he has such an important appointment with that he’d close down his shop for the morning.”

“Maybe business is just slow.”

“Maybe. But I don’t think that’s the reason.”

Pizzarelli drove the Explorer around the lot and repositioned it in an area crowded with other cars some distance away from The Rabbit & The Hat. If no one pulled into the slot in front of them, they’d continue to have a clear view of the entrance. He didn’t turn off the engine. They waited with the air conditioning running. “How long you want to do this?”

A shiver raced down Cheri’s spine. “I don’t know. I just have a feeling…”

Four minutes later, her fear manifested in the form of a green ‘87 Honda Accord that pulled up in front of the magic shop and parked. Her heart constricted when the tall, young man got out of the Honda, locked the door, and entered the shop.

Her Honda. Her son.

“He should be in school,” she hissed. She twisted her wrist to look at her watch. “It’s 10:30 in the morning.”

Pizzarelli frowned, a perplexed expression that made his face wrinkle in odd places. “What’s the kid doing here?”

“Trying to get Robert the Great to be his magic mentor. He thinks he wants to be a
magician
.” The anger in her voice caused her face to flush.

“D’you think Digbee knows he’s your son?”

“It’s possible. But maybe he hasn’t made the connection.”

“Is Tom any good?”

She turned on her partner. “Not the point, Pizza—if Digbee’s our guy, Tom might be in danger. I don’t know why, I just
feel
it.”

He held up both hands. “Whoa. Far be it for me to question what the mother feels. What do you want to do? Shall we go in and take him out?”

She sighed. “On what grounds? Anyway, we’re not on good terms right now. He’d be really pissed if I came barging in waving badge and gun.”

“Beware the mother—with a badge
and
gun.”

She didn’t like the faint smile at the corners of her partner’s mouth. She gave him a sharp look.

“Cher, let’s just wait on this thing with Tom. Any minute we could get a break in this case and it’ll all be over. Robert the Great could be completely innocent, after all.”

Her jaw tightened, and she heaved a deep breath. She did not like what she was about to say. “Alright, we wait. But Digbee could be completely guilty, too. Let’s get out of here. We still have a lot of work ahead of us.”

He pulled the Explorer forward through the other parking space and headed for the street.

She deliberately looked away from The Rabbit & The Hat and muttered, “Hope to God I don’t regret this.”

CHAPTER 39

Thursday, August 11, 1 p.m.

A bell on the door chimed as Carter followed Andrea into The Rabbit & The Hat. He saw that they would have to wait to speak to Robert, who was helping another customer.

Earlier Carter had spoken on the telephone with him. The old magician had created an improved version of the classic Arm Box effect and, though he hadn’t yet advertised it, had agreed to sell it to him.

The old master’s magic shop had always made Carter feel at home, like he belonged here. Whenever he thought his career wasn’t moving or he hadn’t been in the business long enough to deserve the gig he’d gotten, he could come to The Rabbit & The Hat and recapture the feeling that he was really a part of the world of show business magic.

The two ventriloquist’s dummies perched on a corner shelf were like old friends welcoming him to a secret place—he hoped Robert would never sell them.

He marveled at the framed black and white publicity photos, many of them autographed “
To Robert the Great
”, that crowded one wall. Channing Pollack, Lance Burton, Fielding West, The Great Tomsoni, Shimada, David Copperfield—all the greats were Robert Digbee’s contemporaries and customers.

Behind the main counter, a wall of wooden shelves with a carved cornice of leaves held a wide variety of magic tricks for sale. When Carter gazed at them he thought of himself as the proverbial kid in a candy store. Even the names of the effects were magical:
Cigarette Through Card, Twisted Sisters, Prayer Vase, The Devil’s Bride Illusion
.

But now the magic had died. He just wanted to get the Arm Box effect and get away from this place as quickly as possible. He fidgeted while Andrea perused books displayed on a tall spinner rack. The customer left and the great man himself approached. Carter forced himself to look at Robert the Great with impassive eyes.

“Here for the Arm Box?”

“And good morning to you, too, Robert,” he said, suspicious of the man’s abrupt greeting. Had he somehow found out what Carter knew?

Instantly Digbee’s tone changed. “I’m sorry, dear boy.” He smiled at Andrea. “Please forgive my rudeness. My mind is challenged, as you know, by the surprise I’m planning for MAGIQUE DU MONDE. You’ll be there, of course?”

“Of course. We’ll take the Arm Box and leave you to your business.”

“Yes, and I’ll take this, too, Robert,” Andrea said, holding out one of the books.

“Ah, Houdini’s
The Unmasking Of Robert Houdin.
The father of modern magic. Houdin had great mechanical skill, for the 19
th
century.”

“We read his book,
Tricks Of The Greeks,”
she said.

“The one on crooked gambling,” Carter added. “Peter recommended it.”

“Yes. Peter...” Digbee gave him an odd look. “Carter, my boy, there’s something you should know, if you haven’t heard it already.”

He always listened with care when Robert the Great explained how to tweak a magic trick. “What?” He had an uneasy wariness of what it was he was about to hear.

Even though there were no other customers in the store, the great man glanced around, as if ghosts might be listening. “I don’t know what’s going on with you and Peter, but he’s been saying strange things about you. You may have heard about a DVD floating aroun
d⎯
”

“It’s not floating around. It’s in a safe place.”

Digbee cocked his head at the interruption. His eyes flashed new interest. “You’ve seen it? You know where it is?”

Carter hesitated. He had a strong premonition that he shouldn’t reveal anything, that he shouldn’t volunteer information. Finally, he murmured, “I’ve seen it.”

“Well, I have not,” Digbee declared, “and I understand it’s, ah, damaging.”

A nauseous ball of repulsion roiled in Carter’s stomach. He forced himself to look the older man straight in the eye. “It is, shall we say, damaging in the
extreme
.”

Digbee ignored his challenge. “I never approved of that black magic stuff Maxwell liked. I find it amusing that somebody would finally have something on him. Karma, and all that.”

His words seemed to dare Carter to talk about what had been videoed. As much as he had respected Robert the Great, Carter wouldn’t confide in him. If the old master hadn’t seen the DVD, as he claimed, did he know how much was on it? Did he know how explicit it was?
Surely he must.

Tread carefully, he reminded himself. He wished that what he knew about Robert wasn’t true.
“Karma can be unpleasant.”

Digbee waived a dismissive hand. “I don’t care where the DVD is. That’s not what I wanted to tell you.”

His tone told Carter he did care, but was not going to let them know it.

“Then what?” Andrea asked.

Digbee gave her a stare that said women should be seen and not heard. To Carter he said, “Peter’s been implying that you might have been blackmailing Maxwell with that video. I just wanted you to know, and to tell you I don’t believe a word of it. I can’t imagine what’s come over Peter, that he would say such a thing.”

“I can,” Andrea said, ignoring Robert the Great’s attitude toward her. “Peter’s in love with Carter, and he’s mad that Carter doesn’t feel the same way, because Carter loves
me
.”

Digbee scoffed. “Peter’s in love with Dayan Franklyn, little lady. Now,
there’s
somebody who might take advantage of an opportunity to blackmail Maxwell.”

A dormant dragon of anger against Peter Jones rose in Carter’s chest. He’d known Peter since childhood. He’d tried to help an awkward situation with a simple favor, and now Peter had turned on him. He wished Andrea hadn’t spoken. He didn’t want to hear any more.

“Robert, can I get the Arm Box?” he asked, his voice hoarse to his own ears.

“Of course, my boy.” Digbee stopped at the end of the aisle leading to his workroom in the rear of the shop. He turned around to face them. “You know, I’m not unhappy that Maxwell’s dead. He was a cold-blooded pirate and everybody knows it. The magic world is better off without him.”

Andrea said, “Robert, how can you say such a thing?”

Carter stared at the old magician. “He was your protégé. You taught him everything you know.”

Digbee’s eyes reflected pinpoints of ice blue. He opened his mouth to speak again and then closed it. He turned around, opened the door to his workroom, and directed them to follow him inside.

Carter saw a young man working in the corner of the room. Did Digbee have a new protégé himself?

As they entered, the teen-ager looked up, but Digbee made no move to introduce him, and the kid went back to his work.

Carter noted that even with his head down, the kid watched them as Digbee showed the new apparatus and demonstrated how to use it. No more was said about Peter or Maxwell as Digbee took the cash Carter offered for the book and the effect. Cash, Carter knew, that would never see the light of Digbee’s accounts receivable.

They said polite thank you’s and good-bye’s and left the shop. Andrea climbed into the passenger seat of the Mustang convertible, slammed the door and said, “I can’t believe Peter is spreading such lies about you.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Carter struggled to maintain an even voice. “Buckle your seatbelt.”

When he thought of Peter he felt pain and betrayal. When he thought of what the DVD showed, his thoughts collided in a battle of warring emotions that left him paralyzed, unsure of what action to take.

Indeed, he wasn’t even sure it was his place to act. What could he do to change the horror? No amount of magic could undo what had been done. It was as if the world he knew had become one giant Fellini nightmare.

When he thought of Robert Digbee, whom he had always regarded as a pillar of the magic community, his throat tightened with sadness mixed with something much darker—loathing.