Carlos from Mexico City smiled helpfully. ‘Mr and Mrs Westfall are in 8592. But I’ll be happy to deliver the note for you, if you like.’ He held out his hand.
‘Oh, would you? How kind.’ I handed Carlos the note, along with a five-dollar bill. I followed along, slightly behind, as he headed down the hallway. ‘I can’t imagine how I got so confused about the room number. I was sure Jack said 8622 or 8624. Are you sure he’s in 8592?’
‘Yes, ma’am. This section, it’s mostly for staff. Mr LeRoy Carney, he is in 8622.’
‘The photographer?’ I asked, my heart pounding.
‘Yes, ma’am.’ Carlos paused, turned, grinned.
‘8624, now, that’s Miss Pia and Miss Lorelei,’ Carlos was saying when I tuned back in.
‘Ah,’ I said as we neared the Westfall’s cabin. ‘The magician’s assistants. I saw them in Channing’s sword basket act the other night, and they were terrific.’
‘He pulled a silver dollar out of my ear one time. Let me keep it, too. Very nice guy.’
‘You’ve never seen his show?’
Carlos’s shoulders drooped. ‘I have to work,’ he said simply.
I thanked Carlos profusely, feeling sad that because of his punishing schedule, his only exposure to Channing’s amazing talents had been a bit of prestidigitation in the corridor. I also tried to hide my annoyance with Officer Ben Martin, who had obviously been keeping information from us. It wasn’t as if we were disinterested bystanders. We actually had a need to know.
But it was all good, I thought, as I strolled along the deck toward the bow. Buck Carney was going nowhere, I thought with perverted pleasure, except to a federal prison where he’d meet new, close friends. Big, ugly, hairy friends, I thought, quoting Bette Midler in Ruthless People. Not that he’d ever see what they looked like, because he’d be facing the other way.
Just thinking about it made me grin.
TWENTY-THREE
‘As the cabinet is turned, or seen from the extreme sides, some spectators will find they are looking at themselves in the mirror.’
Jim Steinmeyer, Hiding the Elephant, Da Capo,
2004, p. 81
Before I ran into Connor, it had been my intention to arrive at the theater first, snag four seats in a row near the front of the stage, and be well into my second mojito by the time my sisters showed up.
Not surprisingly, they had gotten there first.
I was boiling over with excitement at the news I was carrying, but I managed not to erupt until the server had disappeared with our drinks order. ‘So, you see,’ I said after the server had gone, and come back, and I’d finally reached the end of my chronicle, ‘if it hadn’t been for Connor…’ I let the sentence die. Everyone sitting round me could fill in the blank.
Julie blushed and smiled a secret smile. She reminded me of the Mona Lisa, or maybe the Cheshire Cat. ‘So I was right after all,’ she said. ‘I just knew it!’
‘I’ll have to apologize to the young man,’ Georgina said. ‘I’m just so very, very grateful. If only I had known.’
‘You can pin a medal on him later, Georgina,’ Ruth whispered.
I’d skipped the part about Connor confessing to buying Julie booze; an executive decision, and one I do not regret, I thought, as I melted into the upholstered seat and began to enjoy my drink.
‘May I join you?’
I turned, straw still caught between my lips, as David slid into the empty seat on my right.
‘We missed you at dinner,’ I told him.
‘Unavoidably detained,’ he said, pointing to his forehead.
‘What happened?’ I asked, squinting at his face as the house lights began to dim. A square white bandage decorated the area just above his left eyebrow.
‘Two stitches,’ he explained. ‘I’ll live.’
‘You didn’t answer my question, David.’
David flagged down a passing server and ordered a club soda with lime. ‘When I came out of the bar, I had a run-in with Jack Westfall. He accused me of ruining his life. Blamed me for Security asking permission to search his room.’
‘And?’
‘He refused, of course.’
‘About the run-in, I mean. The bandage. Explain.’
‘I’d had a bit to drink, words were exchanged, and I took a swing at him. He swung back and I forgot to duck. Bastard. I’d like to nail his ass.’
‘I’m afraid we were wrong about Jack Westfall, David.’ In the few minutes remaining before the show began, I briefed David on the occupant of cabin 8622, what Connor saw and what I had subsequently learned about Mr Leroy ‘Buck’ Carney.
‘God damn,’ he said. ‘Have you told Pia?’
‘No time, but I will, after the show.’
Suddenly the house lights dimmed and the intro music began, something slow and tinkling like sands through an hourglass.
The opening act was Cameron Reyes, a recent semi-finalist on American Idol, or maybe it was The Voice. Cameron’s rendition of ‘Hey, Gotta Stay Awake’ – a song of his own composing, according to the emcee – alternately soared, then plunged through at least four octaves, producing wails so pitiful that Reyes could have been passing a kidney stone, for all I knew, just like our late Aunt Evelyn. If there was a key, he never managed to find it. Autotune was the only explanation for the popularity of the guy. Millions of fans had already downloaded this very song from iTunes. Go figure.
Me? I just wanted to rip my ears off.
Finally, he went away.
After a moment, the Star Wars theme began and Channing strolled out on stage. To keep his act fresh for the audience, he’d replaced the floating ball with the Chinese linking rings, solid circles of steel that linked and unlinked, or passed through one another so seamlessly that you’d think the metal had liquefied.
Pia had told me that the Zig-Zag Box would be replaced by the Vanishing Cabinet, so I wasn’t surprised when Pia and Channing rolled the brightly painted cabinet from the wings and centered it on the stage.
Wearing a red brocade cheongsam, Pia stood to the right of the cabinet, smiling brightly. Channing smiled upon the audience from the opposite side of the cabinet. Channing approached the footlights, his teeth dazzling as he said, ‘We need a volunteer from the audience! Who would like to volunteer?’
Julie’s hand shot up. She bounced in her seat making ooooh, ooooh noises like a student with the correct answer to the question, ‘What is the capital of Iowa?’
Georgina grabbed her daughter’s arm. ‘Sit down, Julie!’
‘I want to do it, Mom! Please!’ All during this conversation, she continued to wave at the magician, signaling look at me, look at me!
Although Channing first appeared to favor a young blonde girl in the front row, Julie’s tactic worked. Channing’s arm shot out. ‘You! The pretty little redhead in the second row!’
Julie shot to her feet, both hands pressed to her chest. ‘Me? You mean me?’ She favored her mother with a pitiful, pleading glance.
Georgina nodded once, shooed Julie off with a flick of her hand.
Julie’s eyes darted right, then left – where are the stairs? – but Channing was already striding stage left, hand extended – this way, young lady, this way – and in a few seconds had seized her upraised hand and escorted her to stand in front of the cabinet.
He bent his head to her ear and asked a question.
Julie’s smile vanished. Her lips moved.
Channing answered, then straightened and waved an arm dramatically over my niece’s head. ‘Ladies and gentleman, I give you Miss Julie Cardinale, all the way from Baltimore, Maryland, who has kindly agreed to assist us with this demonstration!’