Now everyone was assembled in the showroom, and they were all staring up at Gus in eager anticipation. Well, not eager so much as angry, and not anticipation so much as rage, but Gus did allow himself a moment of pleasure at being the center of attention for once in his detective career. And then he allowed himself another moment at the knowledge that as soon as Shawn took the stage, no one would be paying any more attention to him.
But where was Shawn? Why wasn’t he here hogging the spotlight? Gus checked his watch, suddenly aware that he’d been standing mute on stage for a good three minutes and the crowd was getting restless.
“I’m sure you’re all wondering why we’ve called you here tonight,” he said finally, feeling a need to fill at least a little of the hostile silence.
“You didn’t call us here. You had us dragged by the police,” Jessica Higgenbotham said. “If I’d wanted to spend my life being rousted by cops, I would have stuck with the carny life.”
“I promise, it’s going to be worth all the inconvenience,” Gus said, hoping fervently this was true. After all, Shawn had already announced on several occasions that he’d solved the case, only to have Gus point out that he was actually nowhere close. He fought off the terrible feeling that the real reason Shawn hadn’t explained the solution to him was that he was afraid Gus would poke holes in this one, too.
There was an ugly murmur running through the crowd. Lassiter had noticed the change in mood as well, and had signaled the uniformed officers to take positions by the exits.
“Let’s get on with this, Gus,” Henry called. “Where’s Shawn?”
Before Gus could answer, Lyle Wheelock spit out a curse. “Maybe he’s got to break up another happy couple first.”
“Yeah?” Henry said. “Which happy couple was that-the people who were getting married, or the ones who were cheating?”
Benny Fleck marched up to Lassiter and O’Hara. “I am here, Detectives, under duress, having been forced to abandon several key negotiations at a crucial point. I was dragged across state lines for this catastrophe. So I strongly urge you convince me this was worthwhile before my lawyers can come up with a lawsuit that will bankrupt Santa Barbara.”
“You may be able to throw your weight around Las Vegas, but the SBPD doesn’t play that way,” Lassiter said. “Now get back in the front row so you can see.”
Fleck glared up at him. If Lassiter was the slightest bit intimidated by the billionaire, Gus couldn’t see it.
For the moment, Lassiter had successfully taken control of the crowd, and the muttering had died away. But Gus knew it was only a matter of minutes before the unrest would start again.
Just as Gus was searching for the right words to calm the audience, the houselights dimmed and a spot shone down on the stage. Shawn strode out into the middle of the spotlight and took a deep bow.
No one clapped.
“Where have you been?” Gus whispered furiously.
“You never heard of making an entrance?” Shawn said. “Besides, there were a few last-second details that needed tending to.”
“Like what?” Gus said.
“Hey, it’s the psycho!” Lyle Wheelock yelled. “He’s the one who-Ow!”
“Like that,” Shawn said.
Gus peered out into the crowd and could make out a small boy sticking his hand in the air as a superball flew into it.
“Is that Hank Stenberg?” Gus asked.
“The Headhunter himself,” Shawn said. “Best crowd control you can buy for less than five bucks.”
“Okay, Spencer, time to get going,” Lassiter said. “Make it good, make it convincing, but most of all, make it short.”
Shawn made another deep bow and waited for the applause to subside, which presented a small problem in that it had never actually started. Gus nudged him and he straightened up.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Shawn intoned, “and police and ex-army majors and carny freaks and anyone I might have left out. We are gathered here tonight to solve a crime.”
“Yes, Shawn, we are,” O’Hara called out. “We’ve been gathered here for a long time. So maybe you could start solving.”
“Yes, to solve a crime,” Shawn started. “And not just any crime, but the worst kind of crime.”
“We all know someone was murdered,” Lassiter said.
“I’m talking about a theft,” Shawn said. “The theft of a young boy’s sense of wonder.”
Over the course of their detective career, Gus had occasionally entertained the notion that they should cater Shawn’s denouements-at least serve a few light hors d’oeuvres, in case the summation ran long. But he was particularly glad there hadn’t been food served tonight, as there was little doubt it all would have rained down on them.
Shawn persevered through the boos, hisses, and occasional obscenity. “Two decades ago, a small boy came to the Fortress of Magic, wanting only to be amazed and delighted. But instead of allowing him those few moments of, yes, magic, his father cruelly exposed its practitioners as tricksters, hoaxsters, and frauds, stealing that precious gift of enchantment away forever. And the author of that theft is standing among us right now,” he said, leveling the powerful finger of judgment at his father. “Henry Spencer, j’accuse.”
“If you mean I told you the truth about these pho nies, you’re welcome,” Henry said, then noticed Rudge glaring at him. “Nothing personal.”
Rudge gave him a conciliatory bow.
“What you call the truth is nothing more than a fear of being tricked,” Shawn said, “a belief that if someone is holding the truth from you, it must be for nefarious purposes.”
“Well, of course it is,” Henry said.
“And that’s exactly the attitude that sent me here in the first place,” Shawn said.
Lassiter turned to Henry. “It was your idea for Shawn to come here in the first place? Gee, thanks.”
“I was banned from the Fortress for exposing the truth,” Henry said.
“Oh, come on, Dad,” Shawn said. “You were banned because you arrested the magician who was showing me card tricks for contributing to the delinquency of a minor.”
“As if your delinquency needed any more contributions,” Henry said.
“Hey!” The voice that rang out was so full of authority, everybody turned in its direction immediately. Major Voges didn’t have her gun out, but her bearing was so intimidating, she might as well have. “We’re not here to participate in your private psychodrama.”
“See?” Lyle said. “I told you he was a psycho.”
Shawn gave Hank a hand signal, and the boy hurled the superball at Lyle’s head.
“Ow,” Lyle said as the ball zipped back into Hank’s hand.
“See, they do sting,” Shawn said to Gus, then turned back to the audience. “This is exactly where you’re wrong, Major Voges. You are all here to participate in our private psychodrama. Because that was key to solving this mystery. You see, it was the cynicism my father imparted to me that kept me from realizing the truth. Now I know you’re all wondering, just how cynical is Henry Spencer?”
If noes were bullets, Shawn and Gus would have been flopping on the stage like Bonnie and Clyde.
“I’m glad you asked,” Shawn said quickly. “Here’s how cynical my father is. He looked at two friends, two old, dear, close friends, and saw something strange. I don’t know what sparked his suspicions, but he could tell there was something off about Bud’s engagement. And being the cynic that he is, he leapt to the conclusion that Lyle was cheating with Bud’s lovely fiancee, Savonia.”
“Does this have anything to do with the case?” Gus whispered to Shawn.
Shawn ignored him. “But he’d known these friends for far too long to confront either of them with his suspicion. So he arranged a bachelor party for Bud-but he booked it for the one place he knew he couldn’t possibly attend.”
“How did you find that out?” Henry said.
Shawn gave him a small smile. “And then he sent me. Do you know why?”