“You coming back.”
“Hardly. That’s a blank slate, anything that was is wiped clean. And I don’t believe Temple’s my type. My infatuation must have been an aberration.”
“If Matt Devine were here, he’d flatten you for saying that about his fiancée and I’ve half a mind to do it myself.”
“Temple is savvy, smart, and charming, but I’m no threat to any couple at the moment. I still need to get my feet on the ground.”
“Yet you somehow linked up with Rafi Nadir?”
“Maybe you sicced him on me in your time-tested method of hiring unwanted men to trail wanted men.”
She ignored the gibe. “The only couple I’m interested in now is you and Rafi. Give.”
“I checked out the observation vents over the Goliath casino and found the area is still ‘live.’ Something was and still could be planned there.”
“Where did Nadir come in on that?”
“He, ah, had followed me. So I had unexpected backup.”
“He helped you out?”
“Yeah. I told you, he’s a good man. Maybe not for your purposes, but—”
“That’s enough. I can buy that both you ex-heroes got caught up in my widespread net for the Barbie Doll Killer. Why you’re going steady now, I can’t figure.”
“I wanted to examine the pirate attraction where Cliff Effinger had died at the Oasis, and convinced Nadir to take me there after hours.”
“Oh, yeah, the new Hardy Boys. How’d you convince Rafi to risk his precious job?”
“Believe it not, I’m very convincing.”
“Who’s sorry now?”
“I am. Much more was going on than either of us would have believed. When the attraction was closed for the night I was able to board the sinking ship set and determine that the bizarre act of binding Effinger to the figurehead was meant to torture, not kill.”
“Cliff Effinger was worth torturing?”
“If he knew something he wasn’t ever going to give up. Maybe it was a Something worth a lot of money.”
“So the ghost of Effinger appeared on deck and gave you postmortem evidence on what happened to him.”
“No, but the whole thing went down—”
“The ship?”
“The expedition. It went down the same as at the Goliath. Somebody was either waiting or had followed us. More than one someone. Only neither Rafi nor I was tossed overboard into the temporarily electrified pirate’s cove waters. An attacker was.”
Molina’s gently mocking demeanor had dropped like a mask. “Electrified water. That could kill innocent tourists when the attraction is open. Someone died on scene?” She was punching out her cell phone like Mike Tyson. “Nothing at the Oasis on the roster last night. Just a drunk and disorderly report on an unidentified man at the ship attraction site.”
“I assumed the flashlight brigade that interrupted us was hotel security and they would immediately notify the authorities about the dead man floating. Maybe the men out there weren’t with the hotel. That night attack is sounding sinisterer and sinisterer.”
“So this whole phantom encounter resulted in the death of one anonymous man who’s vanished, and you two get off with a vague drunk and disorderly report not even attached to an ID’d suspect.”
“They had Rafi in their lights and were carrying firearms. Maybe they threatened him with exposure to shut him up.”
“So you left him there?”
“He’d told me to run for cover in the jungle-like foliage around that area before that.”
“And you always do what you’re told? Where is he now?”
“I don’t know. He’s not answering his cell phone.”
“And you’re not out looking for him?”
“You rang, and I came running. I was heading back to the Oasis to make sure he didn’t lose his job, dammit. You and I got the poor sod into this.”
“Not me. So what do you think Effinger got himself into?”
“It has to be mob activity.”
“Haven’t you heard? They went corporate long ago.”
“‘Corporate’ doesn’t mean clean. Far from it. Just as ‘peace’ isn’t a synonym for the end of violence.”
“You seem to attract violence wherever you go.”
“Maybe I know something I shouldn’t.”
“That’s a bad place to be with a temporal lobe on leave.”
“I know it. Doesn’t mean my memory doesn’t work going forward.”
“Mob.” She consulted her own perfectly functioning memory. “They’re pretty on the down low these days.”
“This Effinger death was overkill. And he was meant to be found to scare someone else, some mob or gang or other outfit.”
Molina nodded. “You could be right. That might explain … you wouldn’t remember—”
“What?”
“Just remember that you need my input. There was a false alarm about Effinger’s death earlier.”
“Yes?”
“Man fell out of the Crystal Phoenix ceiling, dead.”
“Another ceiling murder? Unsolved?”
She nodded. “He looked a bit like Effinger, but had no ID.”
“Somebody mistook him for Effinger and offed him.”
“Or…”
He got it. “Effinger wanted to be thought dead. He doesn’t strike me as the killer sort. He is from Chicago, though, like Devine. The mob is plenty active there.”
“Don’t think too big,” she cautioned him. “Think personal.”
“Devine! Matt Devine was on his trail. He wanted Matt Devine to think he was dead.” Max reconsidered. “No. Devine wasn’t that big a threat.”
“He was if his dogged search for Effinger was drawing attention, and drawing attention to Effinger. And don’t underestimate Matt Devine. He’s with your girl now, isn’t he?”
“I’m not possessive by nature. I think. You’re pushing the wrong buttons, Lieutenant.”
“Maybe. Then there was that crazy incident involving your ex-girlfriend and her cat being kidnapped from a Shangri-La magic show and being spirited down the highway in a semi filled with magic-act paraphernalia and contraband drugs. I sensed your ghostly fingers at work in the scene of their escape when my people got there. Any memories of tearing the contents of that semi to pieces to find the pair before they suffocated?”
Magical boxes, big enough to conceal an artfully arranged human body, boxes with false bottoms and sides and mirrors. They crowded his memory, begging for recognition. You used me in this illusion. No, Garry did. No, Temple Barr was your assistant and did the switch with you, and then you pulled her cat out of a hat.
He blinked as the deceptive rummage sale images of the past faded away and smiled at Molina. “You are truly a tree of knowledge of good and evil. Or just evil.”
She smiled. “Thanks. My job. Another little tidbit for you. About that old-time magician found dead in the underground safe that your ex-girlfriend tried to use as a promo opportunity.”
“Cosimo Sparks,” Max said. “I heard about him.” Not only that, he’d dreamed about him, had known the man while still living, at the Neon Nightmare. He was a confirmed Synth member, but Molina would laugh that idea off.
“He was stabbed to death, but prodded viciously first.”
“Another reluctant information-giver. Hasn’t someone been arrested for that?”
“We had to let him go. A South American larger-than-life personality known as Santiago, just Santiago. Blood traces too insignificant for court. One always thinks of drugs. That would tie in to the Shangri-La kidnapping.”
“What about that lady magician as a suspect?”
“Dead too.”
“You have a … an outhouse-load of cold cases, Lieutenant.”
“Why do you think I hire freelancers?”
“From what I can see, usually it’s personal reasons.”
“And what would those be in your case?”
“My Irish charm.”
“I favor Latin charm.”
“With those blue eyes? It’s a fact that the Irish and the Spanish mix like whiskey and soda. Soledad O’Brian, the news reporter. I can’t think of others. The memory, you know.”