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Pro stood up. “What’s the name?”
Chu looked at the paper in his hand. “Malcolm Shaut.”
“You’re kidding!”
“No,” Chu said and looked at the paper again to be sure. “Do you know him?”
“I know of him. He’s the producer of A Night of Wonder down in the village. That’s been running for like twenty-five years.”
“What is that?”
“It’s a show in an off-Broadway theater on Monday nights. It’s a live stage presentation of magicians from all over the world, whoever happens to be in town that week. Max would work there occasionally when he’d visit…”
“Pro you have a glazed look in your eyes.”
“Sorry. I was just thinking how my father would take me out to dinner and then to see that show when he was in it, even though it was a school night,” Pro said, and her features grew hard. “I guess I didn’t appreciate it back then.”
“So, your memories aren’t all bad,” Chu suggested.
“I guess not. Where is this guy?”
“He’s right nearby on 50th Street. Hell, we could walk to his place. It’s right between Ninth and Tenth Avenues.”
“And only a few blocks from our murder scene,” Pro added.
“I noticed that as well.”
888
They did take their police vehicle and were soon walking up the long front steps of an impressive brownstone. There was a wrought-iron protective fence around the ground floor entrance. However, fanciful designs had been made in the metal bars resembling moons, stars, and wands. The windows facing the street also had the same protective ironwork up all three floors of the edifice.
“Does this guy own the entire building?” Pro asked.
Chu checked his paper. “It doesn’t say. But there is only one buzzer.”
Chu pressed a button on a metal plate with a speaker.
“Who is it?” a male voice snapped over the intercom.
“Detectives Chu and Thompson, NYPD. We need to speak with Mister Shaut.”
“Show your badges to the camera. It’s over the door.”
The two detectives exchanged an annoyed glance, and then pulled out their billfolds and showed their shields to the small lens over the doorway that glimmered in the sunlight.
The door buzzed, and Pro opened the ten foot tall narrow door to walk through. A second door waited just three feet from the first, and Chu pushed through it.
A door opened at the end of the hall and Chu and Pro walked past an impressive stairway that led to the next floor. A thin, average height man with dirty-blond hair and a receding hairline stepped forward to meet the detectives, leaving the door ajar. As he drew near, Pro could see a small chin beard and mustache and guessed that he was about thirty but looked younger.
“Mister Shaut?” Chu asked.
“No, I’m Brent Williams, his assistant,” the man said. “Let me take you to him.”
He led Chu and Pro through the door which faced a bathroom. However, with a slight shift to the left, they went into an open room which contained a large desk made of chrome and glass. There was a computer monitor on the glass top, and to the right and the left were short filing cabinets also made from the shiny metal.
Poised on a wheeled chair with a fancy leather seat was a fair-looking man with average features, graying black hair, clean shaven, and wearing a pair of black pants with a light-blue shirt and a dark-blue sports coat. He carried the air of a performer, as he looked away from the monitor and at his visitors.
“This is Mister Shaut,” Brent announced, and headed off into a side room. Pro watched as he walked through a small waiting room with several chairs, a coffee table, and a television. He then passed through another doorway to a small office. His desk with computer and phone was clearly visible as he sat.
