Now You See It (5 page)

There were many more things I wanted to say, but I figured I'd said enough for now. “Sure.”

“Thank you.” And she left.

***

Before the washer had even filled, Ellin brought Camden home. She paced the island, arms waving.

“She's already moved her things into my space. I can't believe it. She wants to make all sorts of changes. She even wants to change the set. She wants to fire half the staff and bring in her own people, including her son. She's demanding her own phone line, her own secretary. This can't be happening.”

“Why don't you quit?” I asked. “Why put up with all this aggravation?”

She paused long enough to give me a laser stare. “Because I helped set up the PSN. I've been with it from the very beginning. It wouldn't exist without me. I'm not letting some stranger walk in and take over.”

“Maybe corporate's got something better in mind for you.”

Angie heaved herself over so Camden could sit down on the sofa. “We've been through this,” he said with a sigh.

“They expect me to work with this woman and keep her happy so we'll have the money to run the network.”

“If that's what it takes, do it,” I said. “I'm guessing you've had a word with the higher-ups?”

Her eyes have that rare ability to either flame on or chill out. Right now, they were arctic blue. “Several words.”

“You're not being replaced, right? This is only a temporary setback?”

“I certainly hope so.”

“Can't you hold out until this woman's gone?”

“I guess I'm going to have to. But I don't like it.”

“We can tell.”

She gave me one of her rare smiles. “What gave it away?”

“Relax. I know what it's like to want to be your own boss.”

“You need to meet this woman. Then you'd see what I mean.”

“I'd love to, but I have three cases going right now.”

“Well, when you get a minute, bring Cam back over to the studio later today and you can have the pleasure of her acquaintance.” She cut her eyes over to Camden. “Of course, if you would drive, this wouldn't be an issue.”

Camden can drive, he just chooses not to. Something about too many signals coming in. “If Randall has time, he can bring me over.”

“Why didn't you stay?” I asked him.

“Sheila wanted me to leave. She said I was interfering with her aura.”

Ellin rolled her eyes. “See what I have to put up with? And if a certain someone would use his cell phone that would make my life so much easier.”

“One thing at a time, honey,” Camden said.

She gave him a kiss. “Your voice is getting worse. Are you sure you don't want to see a doctor?”

“I'm hoping it'll clear up on its own.”

“I know you have to be careful about what medicines you take, but don't you have some cough syrup or lozenges or something?”

“It doesn't hurt. It just fades in and out.”

“Do you have some singing engagements coming up?”

Camden has a very good tenor voice, which was always in demand from various singing groups, his church choir, and the community theaters.

“A few,” he said. “If I try not to talk too much, it ought to be all right.”

“Well, if it's not better by tomorrow, we'll schedule a visit to the doctor.” She brushed back his hair. “I don't think it's something I can erase.”

Her tone was surprisingly light. Camden always says holding her hand can block his worst visions, and usually she's annoyed because her lack of psychic talent makes this possible. But today, she didn't seem to mind being a Psychic Eraser. At least it was a psychic something.

She gave him another kiss. “I'd better get back. Oh, and don't worry about the ring. We'll work something out.”

As soon as she had gone, I said. “Okay, tell me about the ring.”

“She's seen one she likes, and it might as well be on the moon. I wish I could afford it. You heard her say don't worry, but it would be a nice surprise if I could get it for her.”

“Has she ever said anything like, ‘It doesn't matter if we're poor, as long as we're together'?”

“Not in so many words. She plans to rule the world, you know, so we won't be poor.”

Ellin was indeed on her way to world domination, but she'd shown a bit more concern for Camden than she usually let others see. Theirs was a strange opposites-attract relationship. Maybe his calm approach to life appealed to her. Maybe her intensity made him feel a little more alive. God knows Kary had pulled me back from the brink.

Angie's little eyes twinkled. “Give her up, Cam, and marry me. Don't look like Rufus wants to.”

“I suppose you want a ring, as well?”

She opened the doughnut box. She took out the last glazed doughnut and shoved it around her sausage-sized finger. “This'll do.”

“That kind of ring I can afford.” He gave me a look. “What about these three cases of yours?”

“I told you Sandy Olaf hired me to find her bracelet. The magician, Lucas Finch, hired me to find a special box he and his brother wanted to use in their act. Unfortunately, the brother, Taft, was found wadded up nice and neat in a trunk backstage at the Magic Club.”

Angie made a face. “That's gross.”

“Not only is the special box missing, but there's a possibility Taft's been murdered. The owner of the club has hired me to find out what happened.”

“This box made of gold or something?” Angie asked.

“Lucas says it once belonged to Houdini.”

“Who what?”

“Harry Houdini, famous magician and escape artist.”

“Famous enough to get killed over?”

“Looks that way.”

Camden accepted a piece of doughnut from Angie. “Did you see Jordan?”

“Yes. There were only four of us at the club: me; the owner, Rahnee Nevis; a magician named Bart; and the stage manager, WizBoy. Everybody seemed properly horrified. Taft performed Saturday night at nine. That's the last anybody saw of him.” I made a mental note to ask Lucas where he was Saturday night and if he had any idea where his brother might have gone.

“And the box?”

“Last seen in its hiding place at the club behind a fake cinder block in the storage room.”

He frowned and held out his hands. “Is this box about twelve inches long, kind of gold, with an ‘H' on top?”

Even though I've known Camden for years, he still spooks me with this stuff. “Where are you getting this from?”

“From you. Someone described it to you.”

“Lucas did.”

“I don't know where it is, but I can see it very clearly. Damn. You know what this means.”

This kind of prediction means he's involved somehow. Camden never sees his own future, and sometimes his visions are so scrambled I have to figure them out. I made some “Twilight Zone” noises. “It means it's magic.”

“It means trouble.”

“Come on, then. You know you love trouble.”

Angie licked the last traces of sugar from her finger. “Don't think he oughta be tromping around with you when his voice still ain't one hundred percent.”

“It'll be okay,” Camden said. “I won't talk that much.”

“Why don't you go see a doctor?”

Camden must have had some scary hospital experience when he was younger, because he has a borderline phobia.

“No, thanks.”

“We'll go see my doctor,” Angie said. “He won't stick you with nothing.”

“I need to go with Randall, right?”

I'm always glad to help with an escape. “Right.”

Chapter Five

Energy Fools the Magician

The Parkland Country Club is the oldest club in town, an imposing white building that looks like the main hall of some Ivy League university. A smooth golf course spread out on all sides, trying to turn green in the uncooperative weather. The fountains hadn't been turned on yet, and there weren't any flowers in bloom, so the place looked a bit desolate. This didn't keep several groups of golfers from their games.

We checked by the office and I spoke with the woman in charge of events. I was relieved to find she did not remind me of an animal or possess an unusual voice. Like everyone else, she was a big fan of Sandy Olaf and all her causes, and agreed to show me the dining room where the country club ball had been held.

We went down several halls carpeted in rich money green; past the bar, which was crowded for early afternoon; past a smaller dining room where a meeting was in session; past the pro shop, full of incredibly expensive golf clubs and golf shirts—hell, you'd have to take out a loan to buy a box of golf balls—until finally we reached the dining hall, a circular room in shades of dark pink and green, complete with chandeliers and a small stage framed by dark green velvet curtains.

“Mrs. Olaf was on stage with the other prominent guests, and I believe she sat at the first table to the left.”

I looked on stage, which was bare and polished to a high shine. Around the tables, the pink carpet was immaculate.

“Did you happen to notice if Mrs. Olaf had on her bracelet?”

“The dining room was completely full that night. The only thing I noticed was one of our more prominent member's dresses, which was almost falling off. I'm not sure why she bothers wearing them. She seems to think this makes her more attractive.”

“So it's a safe bet to say all eyes were on that woman?”

“That's the way she likes it.”

So an enterprising jewel thief could easily make the most of this distraction.

Camden slowly walked around the room and came back to me, shaking his head. Sometimes he can find things just by being in a room, but usually he needs to touch someone's hand or a personal object to get a clear picture. And he's told me that leftover vibrations often cloud the visions. A dining room full of party people would have left plenty of vibrations.

The event planner had been eying Camden. “Now I know who you are.”

Camden got that look he gets when someone recognizes him from his infrequent appearances on the PSN. I could tell he was bracing himself to explain that yes, he was psychic, and no, he couldn't give her any winning lottery ticket numbers.

“You sang for a wedding here a few months ago. I have to tell you, I hear a lot of singers, and most of them are good, but your voice is absolutely beautiful.”

“Thank you,” he said.

“And you're an investigator, too?”

“I guess you could say I'm a consultant of sorts.”

“Well, I'm sorry I can't be more help. I honestly don't think Sandy Olaf's bracelet was stolen by anyone at the fund-raiser. She's got so many things going I think she's simply misplaced it.”

“That's my theory, too,” I said to Camden when we got back into the car, “but I needed to check all leads. Nice of her to mention your other talent.”

“My real talent. Now all I have to do is recover it.”

“You've got a sore throat. You'll live.”

We drove on to the First Methodist Church. Unfortunately, a funeral was in progress. We stayed in the car and listened to the Black Eagles Jazz Band rip through “Original Jelly Roll Blues” followed by “Sweetie Dear.” Most of the time, the music helps me forget. This wasn't one of those times. I kept thinking of the dance recital DVD, but what good would it do to see it? I knew I wouldn't cry. I didn't have any tears left. How would I react? I didn't see how looking at it would make me feel any better.

Do you want to feel better?
my perverse side asked,
or are you enjoying this everlasting pity party? Do you think you have to punish yourself in some way? Does holding in your grief make you feel more manly?

I told myself to shut up.

The funeral procession left the church. Seeing the headlights of the cars brought up another unwanted memory. That other dismal gray afternoon, there had been so many cars coming out the winding road to the cemetery the lights had looked like a long moving string of pearls. I remembered thinking, how can anything be beautiful today? But there they were: hundreds of little lights like a living necklace flowing down the road.

“Do you want to go in?” Camden asked.

“Yeah. It's okay.”

We went inside the church and found a man gathering up hymnbooks and papers.

“The family has left for the cemetery,” he said.

“We've come about something else.”

He straightened and wiped his eyes. “Excuse me. We lost one of our younger members to cancer.”

“I'm very sorry.”

“Only fourteen. Can you believe it? Makes you question the fairness of life.”

I tried to ignore the sudden grip in my middle. “Sure does.”

“May I help you?”

“David Randall. I'm investigating the disappearance of Sandy Olaf's diamond bracelet. This is my friend Camden.”

He shook hands with us. “I know Mrs. Olaf, but I didn't know she'd lost a bracelet.”

“She helped organize a yard sale here. Who would know about that?”

“I helped set it up.”

“Do you remember if she had it on during the sale?”

He thought a moment. “I honestly don't recall. She helped me put lots of things on tables, and when it was over, we put lots of things back into boxes. I couldn't tell you if she had on a bracelet or earrings or any sort of jewelry. We were so busy.”

“Was Mrs. Olaf working with anyone in particular?”

“She did what she always does, run around doing everything. She was all over the place.”

“Could you show me where you had your sale?”

He took us outside to a large lawn near the church playground. Ice crunched under our feet. The man shivered in the sudden cold breeze. “What a day for a funeral. Even the weather is mourning.”

It had rained the day of Lindsey's funeral and rained every day afterward for a week. Sometimes I felt it would always be raining. Camden and I checked the frozen grass and along the pathway. “Do you have the leftover stuff stored somewhere?”

“We gave it all to Goodwill.”

Another dead end. I thanked the man and we started to go when a young girl came up to us, gave the man a nod, and spoke to Camden.

“Your name's Camden, isn't it? Could I ask you something?”

“Of course,” he said.

Here it comes,
I thought. Is my loved one in heaven? Will I ever see her again? Is there any way to communicate with her and say everything I wish I had said? How many times had I wanted to ask Camden those same things?

Camden readied himself for her question.

“Kimberly's favorite song was ‘Be Thou My Vision.' Do you know it?”

I could see he was taken aback, but he smiled. “Yes. It's one of my favorites, too.”

“We're planning a special memorial service for her next week here at the church. I know this is sudden, and you probably have lots of other obligations, but if you're free, would you come sing it? I visited your church last month with our youth group, and you sang ‘His Eye Is On the Sparrow.' It was so beautiful. Maybe you could sing that, too?” She started to cry.

The man put his arm around her, and Camden patted her hand. “It's okay,” he said. “I'll be glad to, but as you can probably tell, I'm having a little problem with my voice. I promise if I can get it back, I'll come sing whatever you think Kimberly would've liked.”

I wrote Camden's cell phone number on one of my business cards and handed it to the young woman. “You can reach him through my number, too.”

She brushed the tears off her cheeks. “Thanks. Kimberly was my best friend, but I couldn't go to the cemetery, I just couldn't.”

You wouldn't believe how well I understand that, I wanted to say.

“You don't have to, dear,” the man said. “It's best to remember Kimberly in happier times. Are either of your parents here?”

“They're waiting for me in the car. I told them I wanted to come in the church for a minute, and then I saw Camden. It's kind of neat how that worked out.”

She thanked Camden again, and he told her to keep in touch. The man wished us luck on our search for Sandy's bracelet.

“‘Kind of neat how that worked out,'” I said as we walked back to the car. “I'll say. That's two affirmations of your singing ability within the space of one hour and not one mention of your spooky power. What more do you want?”

“This singing ability is no good if it doesn't clear up.”

“Well, now it has to, doesn't it?” My cell phone rang.

“Randall, it's Rahnee. I've got that list for you.”

“I'll be right there.”

***

The Magic Club was deserted, the glitter balls halted in mid-gleam. As we approached the office door, we could hear voices raised in argument. I recognized Rahnee's voice, and the other sounded like WizBoy's.

“But I thought we had an agreement!”

“I told you I was still thinking about that,” she answered.

“But I heard you tell Taft he could run the club. What the hell was that all about? What kind of management skills did he have? You know I'm qualified. You said so yourself.”

“Can we discuss this later? I'm expecting Randall to come by.”

“I've worked really hard. I've done everything you said. I've never been late for work.”

“Yes, and I appreciate that, but—”

“Taft's dead, Rahnee, so whatever grand plans the two of you had are over.”

I waited for the sound of Rahnee's hand across WizBoy's face, but she had more control. “You need to leave right now and calm down. We'll talk about this later.”

Wiz Boy charged out of the office, slamming the door behind him. He was so angry he didn't notice me or Camden. He stalked across the stage and into the wings. We heard a thump as the back door opened and a crash as it slammed shut.

“All is not well in Magic Land,” I said. “When you get a chance, check out that storage room over there. The fake block is the seventh one up from the floor.”

I waited a few minutes and then knocked on the office door and we entered. Rahnee was seated behind her desk, her flaming red hair in limp tendrils around her face. She had on a black sweatshirt and dirty jeans. “Hi, fellas, have a seat.”

“Rahnee, this is my friend Camden. Camden, Rahnee Nevis.”

Rahnee pushed back her hair. “Nice to meet you. You probably heard that little altercation.”

“Some of it.”

“I think WizBoy might have misunderstood. I was only asking Taft for some advice about the club. I'm not planning to hand it over to anyone yet.”

“Sounded as if Wiz feels he's entitled to it.”

“I'll take care of it. His little fits of temper don't last long.”

Long enough to murder Taft?
I wondered. Sounds like he had a grudge.

Rahnee moved a stack of books to one side. “I'm going through Taft's things he kept here. Lucas wasn't up to it.”

“What sort of things?”

“A few papers, books, notes about illusions he was planning.”

I took a closer look at the books. “Big fan of Houdini, I see.”

“Yes, both of them were.”

“This Vanishing Ruby trick they were planning. What can you tell me about that?”

Rahnee sat back and rubbed her eyes for a moment. “From what I understood, the box played a major role. The ruby was placed inside, and it would be gone.”

“That's it?”

“I'm sure there's more to it, but that was their secret.” She sighed. “Now we'll never know. Even if you find the box, I doubt Lucas will want to use it.”

“What about the bet Lucas made with the other members of WOW? Anyone crazy enough about getting the cabinet key out of the box?”

“I certainly don't need any more magic things. WizBoy doesn't collect, and neither does Jilly. The only person who would be really interested is Jolly Bob. He has a magic shop out by Commerce Circle Mall. Transformation and Company.” She placed all the papers in a large manila envelope and stacked the books on top. “People have been calling all day, asking questions. Everyone's very upset. I wish I knew how it's going to affect business. I'm afraid morbid curiosity will pack them in.” Her voice caught. “I don't mean to sound so callous. You wouldn't believe what our competition will make of this.”

I couldn't imagine what sort of competition the club could have. “And that would be?”

“The Bombay Club has recently added magic acts. I've worked hard to keep this place in the black. Now another club is siphoning off my talent. But I can't really tell people where to work, can I?”

WizBoy came to the door and stopped when he saw us. “Oh, uh, Rahnee, sorry, I—”

“Come in,” she said. “It's okay.”

WizBoy turned red. “Yeah, well, I guess I overreacted a little. Sorry, Rahnee. I didn't mean what I said.”

“Apology accepted. Was there anything else you needed, Randall? Oh, yes, the list.” She pulled a piece of paper from an overstuffed clipboard. “The police needed it, too. I made copies. I think that's everyone. There may have been a few walk-ins.”

The list was a daunting twenty names long. I folded the list and put it in my pocket. “I'm going to see Lucas. Would you like for me to take those papers and books to him?”

“Yes, thanks, and tell him everyone here feels terrible and sends him our deepest sympathy.”

I wanted to talk to WizBoy, and gave Camden a slight nod.