Overcome with relief, I took a gulp of wine, grimaced then choked it down.
Pia limped across the lobby and slipped behind the bar. Prakash grinned, obviously relieved to see her. He made a production of handing over the towel he’d been using to wipe water rings off the bar, then left as if he had an important engagement elsewhere.
I left my glass on the table and approached the bar. ‘Pia, you were hurt during the show last night, weren’t you?’
She didn’t answer my question right away. ‘I saw you there, sitting in the second row.’
I nodded. ‘I thought the show was terrific, by the way, but after the basket trick, when I saw the blood…’
Pia raised both hands. ‘There was a little accident, a miscalculation. I’m fine, really.’
‘Did you see a doctor?’
‘Of course. Tom made me. He was terribly upset, of course. It was just a scratch, I told him, nothing to worry about, but they stitched it up anyway.’ She held up her hand, fingers splayed. ‘Five stitches! Imagine.’
‘I guess I thought they were trick swords. Clearly not.’
‘Oh, the swords are real all right!’
‘Or that you weren’t really in the basket.’
Pia laughed out loud. ‘No, I was actually in the basket. And Lorelei, too. There’s more room inside there than you might think.’
‘But how…’ I started to ask, then paused. ‘Sorry. I shouldn’t be asking you to give away secrets. Wouldn’t want you to break the magicians’ code and get blackballed or something.’
‘Magicians’ code? Don’t make me laugh. Nothing is secret anymore. You can read about how to do the illusions in any number of books, and a couple of years ago, there was even a Masked Magician on TV. “Magic’s Biggest Secrets Revealed.” ’ Pia drew quote marks in the air. ‘He wore this God-awful mask like Hannibal Lecter for the early episodes, but eventually you found out he was a magician named Val Valentino. Val’s not very popular among his fellow magicians these days, as you can well imagine.’
I decided to bring her back to the point. ‘But how did you get hurt?’
‘Most people assume that I’m just a bit of fluff, a helpless little tool for the magician, but really, I’m pretty much in charge of that trick. The swords are plunged into the basket in a particular order, so after each thrust, I have time to rearrange myself. Sometimes I even help the sword pass through.’
‘So what went wrong last night?’
Pia shook her head and shrugged. ‘We’ve done that trick hundreds of times before, but last night Tom had the swords in the wrong order.’ She touched her leg gingerly. ‘The second one nicked my thigh.’
‘You could have been killed! Or, Lorelei.’
‘Yeah, well… I probably shouldn’t be telling you this, but I’m worried about Tom. He hasn’t been himself lately. I even mentioned it to him. What’s wrong? I said. You seem preoccupied, but he just shrugged it off.’
Pia raised a finger – just a minute, I’ll be right back – and left me to serve a glass of wine to a customer. When she came back, she continued where she had left off. ‘He claims it’s because of this new illusion he’s working on. Checking the apparatus, practicing, getting the timing just right. He plans to debut the trick in a couple of weeks, but that’s not going to happen if he can’t get his act together.’ She paused and laughed sadly. ‘So to speak.’
‘Will you and Tom be working tonight?’
‘We’re off tonight, but we’ll be on again day after tomorrow. I should be fine.’ She shrugged. ‘If not, Lorelei can fill in and there just won’t be an extra girl in the basket.’
‘What does Lorelei do when she’s not scrunched down in a basket with you?’
‘She’s a blackjack dealer.’
I’d walked through the Vegas-style casino – almost impossible to miss as it occupied almost half of deck five – but I’d never seen a live blackjack player on duty. They seemed to have been replaced with ‘virtual’ dealers, video representations – sometimes guys, sometimes gals – that smiled creepily at you from large television screens, with no personality other than the one they’d been programmed with. Like avatars, they say hello and make comments, and their eyes follow you like haunted house characters as you walk by. ‘Glad to hear the dealers aren’t all robots,’ I said.
‘Do you play blackjack?’ Pia inquired.
‘No, but my husband does. He’s pretty good at it, too, but he claims that studying the game only helps you to lose more slowly.’
That made Pia laugh.
It was after eleven and the bar was filling up. ‘I should let you get back to work, Pia.’ I touched her lightly on the arm. ‘I’m glad you’re OK.’
‘Thanks. Can I get you something to drink?’
I waved the offer away. ‘Thanks, but no. I’ve got to meet my sisters for lunch.’
After I left the Oracle, I rode the elevator up to the swimming pool deck, where I paused for a moment at the splash pool to watch in amusement as dozens of squealing, giggling children dashed crazily about, trying to avoid – or not – the water jets that erupted unpredictably around them. Buck Carney, the photographer we’d met earlier in the solarium, knelt on one knee at poolside, capturing their antics on film, seemingly oblivious to the spray that was soaking his shorts.
Julie was no longer in the hot tub, but I spotted her seated at a table near the Tiki Hut Beach Bar with a group of her friends. I thought I recognized some of the boys from the Crawford contingent, but as I drew nearer they beat a hasty retreat, leaving Julie alone with two of the girls I’d seen her with earlier.
Julie grinned when she saw me, set the glass she was drinking from down on the edge of the table where it teetered precariously for a moment, then crashed to the deck in a shower of crushed ice, orange slices and pineapple. She pressed a hand to her mouth. ‘Oooops!’
Her companions stared, wide-eyed and innocent as fawns caught in the headlights.
It took a moment for the situation to sink in. ‘Julie Lynn, what have you been drinking?’
Julie flushed. ‘Dunno.’
Julie’s girlfriends shot to their feet, no doubt planning a quick getaway before things turned ugly. I grabbed the freckled blonde by the arm, bringing her up short. ‘What’s Julie been drinking?’
The girl glanced nervously at Julie, then back at me before stammering, ‘Sex on the Beach.’
‘Sex on the Beach,’ I repeated, just to make sure I’d heard it correctly. ‘Sex. On. The. Beach.’ Vodka, I recalled. Peach schnapps. A touch of cranberry juice. From the number of empty glasses on the table, quite a few Sex on the Beaches had been consumed at that table, and nobody sitting there now was anywhere near the age of twenty-one.
The blonde was rapidly shaking her head. ‘But we didn’t… I mean, it wasn’t me!’
Although frightened, she seemed perfectly sober, which was more than I could say for Julie, who slouched in her chair, grinning crookedly. When I scowled at her, Julie began to giggle.
I released the girl’s arm, said, ‘You two, get out of here,’ and aimed a cold stone glare at my niece. ‘Julie Lynn Cardinale, what the hell were you thinking?’
Still smiling, Julie shrugged. ‘Tasted really good, Aunt Hannah.’
‘Get up!’ I ordered.
Julie rose unsteadily to her feet, supporting herself by resting a hand on the table.
‘How many of those did you drink?’ I asked, indicating the debris remaining at the scene of the crime.
‘Dunno.’
I seized Julie’s face by the chin and forced her to look at me. ‘How many?’
I’d frightened her now. A tear slid down her cheek. ‘Two, maybe three?’
‘Come with me!’ Holding my niece firmly by the upper arm, I dragged Julie over to the Tiki Bar where Beshad and another bartender whose name tag was hidden by a towel draped over his shoulder were mixing drinks. Rage boiled up inside of me and exploded in the bartender’s face. ‘Beshad, how old does this girl look to you?’