EQMM, September-October 2010 by Dell Magazine Authors

Author:Dell Magazine Authors
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Dell Magazines

Fiction: OPEN AND SHUT CASE by Marilyn Todd

"When I wrote the first Great Rivorsky story (EQMM 8/01),” says Marilyn Todd, “it was intended to be a one-off. The second story was simply inspired by the first . . . but this is what happens with magicians. The rabbit keeps on popping up in different places, and when I saw how the slicing-the-lady-in-three trick was done, I just knew that adding a contortionist would give it a twist (I know, I know).” Still Waters, the author's latest novel, was published in July 2010.

Official paperwork or not, sir, I am the Great Rivorsky, and that is how I wish my name to be recorded. That's R-i-v—but I see you're already familiar with the spelling from the posters. How rewarding. Though perhaps you'd be kind enough to cross out the words no fixed abode in the address line. The phrase smacks of gypsies, tramps, and circus performers, whereas my show is a reputable spectacular that just happens to tour Europe on a con-tinual basis. An extravanganza of mystery, magic, and illusion that has performed in all the major cities, and in front of royalty on more occasions than I care to count.

Indeed, our last such performance was before Archduke Ferdinand and his charming wife, Sophie, last year in Vienna, and take it from me, Inspector, His Grace's proposals to grant ethnic minorities independence will guarantee him a long and glittering future. Unlike your own King Edward. How is His Majesty's health, by the way? Still shaky? We played for him in Biarritz not long after his mother died, and he was chesty even then. Indeed, half the audience thought the smoke from his cigars was part of the act, and it certainly made Pepé disappear. Sick as a dog behind the stage door, he was, but then Pepé is a dwarf. Working the wires from the ceiling, he was subjected to the full force of the royal smoke as it rose. And though there is only half as much of him as the rest of us, he seems to be doubly absorbant when it comes to toxic pollution.

So you see, no fixed abode gives quite the wrong impression, and while we're about it, I wish to make clear that it is not customary for us to sleep in caravans and operate out of a marquee. Dear me, no. The Great Rivorsky? Working out of a TENT? But after that unfortunate incident during rehearsals in Amsterdam—you did not hear?

It all came about when the fire-eater coughed at an inopportune moment, causing the curtains of the backdrop to catch light. The props immediately fell victim to flames, and of course our boxes are wood and we can't have our contortionist squeezing herself into unseasoned timber, can we? To cut a long story short, Inspector, the theatre became an inferno before you could blink, and what else could an impresario do? With a troupe to pay and suddenly no income to cover the disbursement, my only option was to hop across the Channel and stage a series of impromptu shows.

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