Murder By Misdirection Page 9

  This broke Elisha’s resistance and a loud guffaw burst from her. She doubled over with laughter as Pro continued to protest.

  “Mother, you have got to take this seriously! This is a police investigation…of a murder.”

  By this time, Elisha had pulled out a chair from the overburdened table and sat down as she continued to be swept away on waves of merriment.

  This frustrated Pro even more, and she walked over to her stepfather’s favorite easy chair, which now held a potted palm tree. She removed the small arboreal, got her coffee, and sat down as her mother continued to be helpless with glee.

  Finally, after a couple of minutes, Elisha had laughed herself out and began to calm down. She pulled a napkin from somewhere in the bower and daubed her eyes and blew her nose.

  “I should eat all of your chocolate to punish you for laughing at me,” Pro sniped from her chair.

  This got another giggle from her mother, who held out the box. “Knock yourself out, baby girl.”

  She grudgingly came over, took several candies, and ate them one at a time between swigs of coffee. “I feel like I did when I was a kid.”

  “What do you mean, honey?”

  “I mean all the craziness around Max. I didn’t have any idea what was going on and didn’t understand half of it.”

  “Honey, you were a child. There’s nothing you could’ve done.”

  Pro leaned forward. “Well, I’m not a child now, but he’s treating me like one. Showing up at my place, breaking in here to deliver flowers. We’re not safe.”

  “Max is trying to help…in his way,” Elisha explained.

  Pro shook her head. “It’s a damn annoying way. If he knows something, he should just tell me—tell us.”

  “Your father has spent his life keeping and creating secrets. You have to understand how hard it is for him to open up. And I have to admit I didn’t help.”

  “Mom, Max left you. I don’t see how you could blame yourself in any way.”

  Elisha bit her lip. “I guess I told you that because I wanted it to be easy. I wanted it to be simple for you.”

  “What do you mean, Mom?”

  “Max wanted to take us to Vegas with him. He wanted to buy us a house and be a family there.”

  Pro frowned. “No, he left us…”

  “Temporarily, honey. He asked me to go. Promised that within a year he’d buy us a house.”

  Pro looked at her mother, overcome with the feeling that everything in her world had just tipped off-center. “I don’t understand.”

  “I was afraid!” Elisha snapped. “I was afraid that if I gave up my job as a designer, I wouldn’t find one out there. I figured if I lost my job and his show wasn’t a success, we’d be stuck in Vegas and be flat broke.”

  Elisha turned from her daughter and looked at the flowers as she sipped her coffee. “But it’s not what happened. Max became big, bigger than he ever planned. But then it was too late. I had filed for divorce and I made my commitment to stay here in New York.”

  Elisha turned back and Pro could see tears in her eyes. “So, I lied to you. I told you Max left us, but that wasn’t totally true. I wouldn’t follow him, I wouldn’t trust him, probably when he needed me the most.” The tears began to fall as Elisha lowered her head. “I was afraid…”

  Pro was overcome. She rose from the chair and knelt in front of her mother, taking the older woman’s hands in her own. “Now you listen to me. You were the finest mother anyone could have asked for.”

  But now Elisha was sobbing in earnest. “You hated your father all these years because I lied to you. You thought he didn’t care. He was willing to come back to New York, just to be with you, but I told him no.”

  “Momma, you did the best you could…”

  “You wanted to know why I defended him, why I never said anything bad? It was ‘cause I knew the truth. I let you blame him and that was wrong…”

  “Momma…”

  “I’m sorry, honey. If it wasn’t for Joe, I don’t know what we would’ve done.”

  She raised her mother’s tear-streaked face to meet her eyes. “You did good. And Joe did good. You loved me and raised me. But Max is the problem right now. He’s a fugitive and he might get himself shot…or worse.”

  “What can I do?” Elisha sniffled.

  “Call me or the police if he gets in touch at all. Locks seem to be no impediment to him, so keep aware that he might be back.”

  Elisha nodded and grabbed another napkin to wipe her nose. “Okay, honey, I will.”

  “I love you, Momma.”

  “I love you too, baby. Please don’t shoot your father.”

  “I’ll try not to,” Pro said and rose to her feet. Her mother stood as well and hugged her daughter fiercely.

  “Now, go find the real killer, because I know it is not your father.”

  12. Signed Card

  Back in the Midtown North Precinct, Pro had reprinted the select coded emails and was halfway through translating them as Chu entered the bullpen.

  “You got an early start,” Tom said as he sat at his desk.

  “Had a heart-to-heart with my mom. By the way, Max visited her house yesterday and delivered about a gazillion flowers.”

  Chu shook his head. “Honestly, forget superheroes. This guy can do anything.”

  “Don’t attribute supernatural powers to him just yet. I let Max glance at the emails yesterday to see if I was right about the Houdini code.”

  “Maybe you should have handcuffed him to a table.”

  “Tom, he left me a note in my pistol lock box! He picked the lock on a holding cell. You really think handcuffs are a challenge to him?”

  “Okay, okay,” Chu relented. “So what was your point?”

  “Max has a photographic memory. I think when he saw those papers, he translated them in his head. He saw something that pushed him to take them. I think Max’s next move is going to be based on something in those coded emails.”

  “And what do you propose?” Chu asked skeptically.

  “Well, I’ve decoded about half of them. Mostly they are short messages about the fact that the ‘btg@magic.us’ guy had worked out the techniques behind ‘Prism.’ He was looking for a front man to do the deal, and he was willing to split the take.”

  “Okay, well if you keep converting the messages, I’ll try to track down the emails of the buyers to find out who they are.”

  “I also need you to track down these guys,” Pro added, and pulled a page from her detective notebook.

  Chu read the paper aloud. “Adrian Novack, aka Adrianna Gray, and Michael Mystique. Who are they?”

  “Magicians and potential buyers. Which means Max might be going to visit one or both of them.”

  “I’ll get started on those names first.”

  “Also a Sam Lovell of Lovell Magic. Max talked to him yesterday, so he might know where Max is hiding.”

  “Got it!” Chu moved to his computer to look up the names on the internet.

  Pro didn’t want to admit that, so far, there didn’t seem to be all that much from the transcribed emails. There was one that gave the time and place for a meeting that had been last week, so it wasn’t much help. The rest were discussions of price in the short messages.

  She pulled up the next one and started on the subject line.

  Chu cleared his throat. “I have a Lovell Magic on West 73rd Street.”

  Pro shook her head. “How many freakin’ magic shops are in this town?”

  “Never thought about it. By the way, that’s 20th precinct, so I’m going to put in a courtesy call to let them know that we’re in their neck of the woods.”

  “Okay,” Pro agreed and moved to the message, turning the words into numbers, the numbers into letters, and finally back into words.

  In the meantime, Chu used his desk phone and spoke to a detective he knew in the 20th, asked about family and mutual acquaintances, then explained that he and his partner would be questioning a witness in th
eir jurisdiction. He also made sure to ask if the detective had the APB on Max Martin, aka Marvell.

  As he hung up the phone, Pro was finishing up the email.

  “Tom,” Pro called out, head still leaned over the paper she was writing on. “Any luck with Adrianna Gray?”

  “No, I was about to do a search.”

  “Well, do it quickly. She’s mentioned in the message here.”

  “What does it say?”

  “Best as I’ve done it reads like this: ‘Gray might win by many yards. See who is still in the tip.’”

  “What was it, a race? And what tip?”

  Pro sat back in her chair and looked at the ceiling. “It sounds like ‘Carny.’”

  “What?”

  “In the beginning of his career Max worked carnivals—”

  “Here we go,” Chu growled.

  “Will you listen?” Pro demanded. “Even after I was born, Max would sometimes use Carney lingo, shorthand expressions that carnival workers use, like the ones we use.”

  “What’s your point?”

  “Well, ‘yard’ is a hundred dollars, so Gray winning by many yards, means she offered more money. ‘Tip’ is carny for a crowd, so ‘See who is still in the tip’ refers to the other buyers.”

  Chu folded his arms. “It appears your father was giving you an education without you even knowing it.”

  Pro looked down at the marked-up paper. “I guess so.”

  “Okay, I found an address for Adrian Novak, and it’s just south of our magic store on 73rd.”

  “Let’s hit the store first. So far, our dead magicians had stores.” Pro grabbed her papers, shoved them into her attaché, and headed out right behind Chu.

  ∞∞∞

  They arrived at Broadway and 73rd Street, and Chu parked in front of a hydrant. In the windshield of the car he put out their cardboard sign that read “POLICE ON DUTY.”

  Pro looked up at the eighteen-story Beaux-Art style structure with its striking architectural features and round turrets on the corners that faced Broadway.

  “This is the Ansonia,” Pro said.

  “I guess. What of it?” Chu asked.

  “I’ve just always admired the architecture. I used to walk by the building. It always seemed like a fairy castle that got plopped in the Upper West Side.”

  “Well, our magic store is inside somewhere on the first floor,” Chu said as he headed for a nearby elaborate door with a green awning that stated: The Ansonia.

  They stepped into a hallway, the floors done in elaborate black and white marble tile. At the entrance was black veined marble on both walls with lighting sconces in the shape of elaborate seashells. As they moved in, among the white woodwork and wainscoting were doorways for businesses on each side of the hall. Each door had a small, tasteful sign, and since it was the same for each door, it was apparently a requirement that you buy signs from a specific vendor.

  As the pair continued toward the main lobby, a brightly lit area in the center, they passed a door on their left which read, “Ansonia Realty.”

  “Hold on,” Chu said and tried the doorknob, which turned and allowed them into a tiny waiting room, which held only a small desk with a smiling salesperson and two chairs opposite. She was a blonde woman, not young, perhaps forty-five or fifty. She wore a black turtleneck and a white sports coat. Gold earrings hung from her ears, and she had a pair of horn-rimmed glasses on the desk, where it looked like she put them when the door opened.

  “How can I help you?” the blonde asked in an attempt to sound perky. “Interested in looking at a condo today?”

  Both detectives opened their billfolds in one practiced move.

  “NYPD,” Chu said, his voice suddenly deeper. “We want to know where the Lovell Magic Shop is located.”

  “Oh dear, is Mister Lovell in any kind of trouble?”

  Pro cleared her throat. “We just need to ask him some questions.”

  She didn’t rise from behind her desk. “Oh, okay. Well, you just go through the main lobby and straight down the hallway opposite and it’s there.”

  “Thank you,” Chu said. “By the way, have there been any complaints about Mister Lovell, or anything we should know about?”

  “Oh no, he’s a very good tenant.” The blonde’s big smile returned. “He’s really interested in the history of the building.”

  “How do you mean?” Pro inquired.

  “Well, he’s always asking to look at the blueprints. He says he loves to tell people about the past, with scandals and the good stuff, too! We had some people interested in condos after talking to him.”

  “Really?” Pro said. “You keep copies of the blueprints here?”

  “Sure, in our files. We have copies of the original blueprints from 1899—those are really old. Then we have blueprints of all the units during the renovations. Those come in handy when people want to see the unit they’re interested in. Mister Lovell looks at both sets, because he wants to find the apartment Babe Ruth lived in.”

  “So you like Mister Lovell?” Pro pushed.

  “Sure, every time he comes here, he shows me a magic trick. He’s really good!”

  “Thank you for your time, Miss—”

  “Edmonds, Cathy Edmonds,” the woman said, and picked up a small piece of cardboard off her desk and rose to hand it to Pro. “Here’s my card, in case you’re ever interested in a condo…”

  Pro smiled. “Probably out of my price range.”

  “We rent some apartments as well. There’s nothing like living in a piece of New York history!”

  Chu and Pro both smiled and waved as they went back into the hall. They continued their journey, and in a few hundred feet, they were suddenly in the elaborate open lobby. The floor tiles shifted to tan and black, and the ceiling rose up several stories. There was a large carpet over a center space, and a huge chandelier provided illumination. The sitting area had two back-to-back sofas, a pair of coffee tables, and leather wingback chairs on each of the carpet’s four corners.

  “Not bad,” Chu said looking at the white woodwork and the faux windows, which were filled with multiple panes of cut glass in addition to elaborate curved tops on each one.

  They continued down a hall across from where they had entered, which also had doors on both sides. The tile on the floor shifted back to black and white marble, and halfway to the exit, a door on the left caught Pro’s eye.

  “Here we go,” Pro said, pointing at the sign for “Lovell’s Magic.”

  Chu opened the door and stepped in as an automatic bell announced their entrance. The shop was small but very clean, with only two display cases. Props sat on a single bookcase against the wall that faced the door. A thin man with long, unkempt hair and glasses with a thick frame came out.

  “Can I ‘elp you folks?” he said with a British accent that sounded cockney.

  Once again, the detectives showed their shields.

  “Ah! ‘ow can I ‘elp the NYPD today? Maybe some tips on catching a card cheat?”

  “Are you Sam Lovell?” Chu said.

  “Indeed I am,” he replied as he pushed his glasses farther back on his nose with his pinky.

  “Max Marvell,” Pro demanded, as Chu extracted a print of the mug shot taken while Max had been in police custody. “We are looking for him.”

  “‘Ave you tried in Vegas? Last time, I ‘eard that’s where—”

  Pro interrupted, “Don’t be coy, Mister Lovell. We know that Max came to see you within the last twenty-four hours.”

  Chu took over. “Max Martin, aka Max Marvell, escaped from NYPD custody. If you have assisted him in any way, you can be brought up on charges of aiding a fugitive. Those are serious charges.”

  During this speech, Lovell’s eyes were riveted on Pro’s face, and when she returned his stare he spoke up. “You’re Prophecy, aren’t you? Your blue eyes gave it away, they’re so striking.”

  Pro nodded, her mouth a thin line. “Yes, I am. Now please answer the question. Have yo
u seen Max Marvell?”

  “He came by yesterday, right when I was closing up. Said ‘e needed ‘elp, and that he was tracking down the person who stole his ‘Prism’ effect. Told me someone murdered old Al Floss. Is that true?”

  Pro sighed. “Yes, it is. Did he ask you about any buyers trying to get their hands on the trick?”

  “That ‘e did. I told ‘im Adrianna Gray and Mike Mystique were both in the market from what I ‘eard. I was interested meself but bowed out when the price tag got too ‘igh.”

  “Why?” Chu interjected, his notebook in his hands.

  “‘Cause it’s amazing. I saw the video online. Man, you want to talk about an ending…”

  “We haven’t seen it,” Pro stated flatly.

  “Really?” Lovell exclaimed. “Stay right ‘ere. I’ll get me laptop.”

  He wandered through a curtain, and Pro wondered why all the magic shops had a curtain between storage and retail? What was wrong with a freakin’ door?

  A moment later, Lovell came out with a laptop in his hand. He placed the device on the counter, turned it to face the detectives, and pulled up a video.

  “I downloaded it so I could watch it over and over,” Lovell divulged. “It was shot with a cell phone, but it is the only footage of the effect ever smuggled out.”

  He hit the space bar on the computer and the video began to play.

  It was Max on stage, looking like the classic magician in black tails with a white vest. He carried a black walking stick as he entered to the applause from the audience.

  “This is ‘is finalé,” Lovell explained. “He’s done the full show and this is ‘ow he ends it.”

  Max acknowledged the audience, and the live orchestra ceased playing. Max spoke, his booming voice carried and amplified throughout the room. “I have one last effect I want to share with you. I have to tell you, it is unlike anything you’ve ever seen. I would like to say it is the closest thing I have ever done to real magic.”

  As he paused, the curtain behind him went up. On the stage were two large, triangular crystals standing upright on top of two revolving platforms. They flashed and caught the stage lights in the depths of the glass.