The Magic Square: (A Puzzling Magic Convention Murder) (The Eli Marks Mysteries Book 7) by John Gaspard

Author:John Gaspard [Gaspard, John]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Albert's Bridge Books
Published: 2020-11-10T06:00:00+00:00

12

Quinton Moon always looked like he was just about to step on-stage.

Every time I met him, his hair was always fashionably windblown, and his slacks were neatly (but not obsessively) pressed. The colors of his shirt and sport coat were consistently complimentary, but in an oh-so-casual, thrown-together sort of way.

The truth was, I always felt like a kid dressed in a ratty, homemade Halloween hobo costume next to him. And tonight was no exception.

I had first met Quinton a couple of winters before when he performed an outstanding parlor show at the St. Paul Hotel. He’d stayed around the Twin Cities for a few days after, to do a corporate gig he’d booked and also hang out with Uncle Harry. Which meant he also spent time with me and my then-girlfriend (now wife), Megan. More time than I would have liked. His interest in her was obvious and, thankfully, ultimately benign.

We eventually landed on a truce of sorts, with me admitting that I was blown away by his skill and imagination as a magician … and him admitting his desire to find a partner as fetching and interesting as Megan.

And yes, he used the word ‘fetching’ to describe her. On more than one occasion.

“I didn’t see you at first,” I said. “Hiding here in the corner.”

He smiled. “’Hiding’ may be a strong way of putting it, but I am trying to stay out of the spotlight, if only for a few minutes.”

“I suppose you go through the same thing Harry does at magic conventions, being mobbed and so forth.”

“Well, certainly not to the same degree as Harry,” he said. “But these events do remind me how lucky I am to possess such ardent fans.” He gestured toward the empty stool next to him. “Have a drink with me, if you have time.”

I looked around and finally spotted Harry and the rest of the group. They were on the other side of the room and seemed to be having a jolly old time without me. Two fans had approached their table and were chatting with Harry. I could tell he was being polite. I understood why Quinton had picked this out of the way corner to have a few moments of respite.

“Sure thing,” I said as I settled in. I asked the bartender for a beer and then turned to Quinton. “How are things coming for the big show tomorrow night?”

“Unnervingly slow,” he said. “Tonight’s unscheduled debacle has pushed back our rehearsal time. Our goal was to get the new illusion set up by midnight and be rehearsed and out by two. Now we’ll be lucky to get out by six a.m., which is when we lose the ballroom altogether. Some sort of major changeover for the Awards Luncheon, apparently.”

“And what exactly is this illusion?” I asked. I was genuinely intrigued. Its designer, Davis DeVries, was known for his wickedly diabolical devices.

“Simplicity itself,” Quinton said. “DeVries is currently calling it The Pin Cushion, although up until last week it was called Acupuncture Plus.

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