Mystic Deception by Sally J. Smith

Author:Sally J. Smith [Steffens, Sally J. Smith & Jean]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Gemma Halliday Publishing
Published: 2019-05-21T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Saturday

I walked out of the visitation area mentally repeating everything that Eli had told me about the Houdini-style escape trick and how it worked. Because for some reason I'd thought it might be tacky or impolite to take notes, I'd had to commit the details to memory.

Head down, whispering to myself, "Lift codes, twins, specialty padlocks—" I literally ran into Chief Deputy Quincy Boudreaux. "Oof" was my greeting.

His was, "Hey, look out dere, chéri."

"Q, I'm so glad I ran into you. I was hoping to get a chance to talk to you about—"

He interrupted me. "The Derek King homicide?"

I really hated being that predictable, but there was nothing to do except admit it with a nod and a deep breath then dive in. I told him everything I'd found out from Ken, the gossipy backstage manager.

Quincy looked bored and kept checking his texts, so I guessed the backstage routine wasn't news to him. He'd probably already interviewed the entire crew. And, in truth, when Ken had gone over it with me, I'd thought it was interesting enough, but nothing had jumped out that I could really connect to the homicide.

"And that's when I knew that the ghost of Houdini was the killer." I stopped, folded my arms, and waited, mentally counting down from five, four, three, two—

His head jerked up. "What did you say?"

"That's what I thought. You weren't paying attention to a word I said."

He shrugged away the irrelevance of it and didn't even have the grace to look apologetic. "What else you got for me, Kinsey Millhone?" The question was, of course, about as sarcastic as sarcastic could get. "We like hard-core evidence around here, not rumors, not premonition, not even in-house gossip."

Gossip? It was okay for me to admit a little jabber-jaw was involved here and there, but not him. "Them's fightin' words, cowboy." I tugged up my jeans by the belt loops and braced my feet apart—armed for bear now, I said, "Okay, then, what about…" And I began regurgitating everything I'd learned about the ongoing feuds Derek King had with Ivan the Magnificent and the Tantalizing Tabitha as well as their (so far anyway) lack of verifiable alibis. Quincy perked up a little, but I was saving my real zinger for last. "Oh, and I thought you'd find it mildly interesting that Vincent Miles"—my turn for sarcasm —"who told me he didn't even really know your murder victim, was once married to his sister, and that when Derek King kicked Vince to the curb as far as helping him along with his career…well, let's just say things got ugly."

Quincy squinted and looked thoughtful. "Vincent Miles?"

"Miles of Magic. Youngest contestant?"

"Who told you this?"

"King's sister."

"She was married to one of the competing magicians, you say? I didn't know that." He looked abashed. "She didn't tell me."

"Well, a lot of people don't like talking to the law, ya know. You make 'em uncomfortable."

"Oh, is that right?" He was cool. Calm. Not a good sign. Maybe I'd gone too far.

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