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“Let me see,” Pro said and took the end of the twisted braid in her hand. “No, this isn’t it.”
“Huh?” Chu replied. “It’s a rope, and the marks suggest a rope was the murder weapon.”
“Yes, but this is magicians soft-cut rope,” Pro explained. “It would be much easier to strangle him with a real rope from a hardware store. This looks nice, but it is basically foam rubber wrapped with a cloth tube.”
“We’ll let forensics figure it out,” Chu said and rose. “Tillie, have you verified the ID?”
“Yes, sir, it’s the owner, like Detective Thompson said,” she replied
“Al Floss,” Pro noted and shook her head as she stood. “He’s been running this place for years.”
“Anyone else work here?”
“Not from what I can tell, sir,” Tillie answered and looked around the tight quarters. “And I doubt there would be room for two people.”
“Where’s the perp?”
“He’s there in the back room, which is not much bigger than this one. My partner is watching him, and he’s restrained.”
“Good work, Tillie,” Chu said. “Let’s see him.”
There was a battered, old red theater curtain in the doorway that possessed a faded glory. Tillie took the detectives to it and pulled it aside.
There was a male officer standing and a man in a chair with his hands fastened behind his back. The man had carefully coifed silver hair that had some black still mixed in at the top. He had a mustache with a small beard, commonly called a “van dyke.” He wore black pants and a black shirt with an open collar, and a beautiful black velvet sports coat that suggested a tuxedo. He raised his blue eyes to the detectives.
Pro gasped and Chu glanced at her, surprised by her reaction. The man slowly rose from the chair to his full height of six foot two. He brought his hands from behind his back as a pair of manacles clattered noisily to the ground behind him.
“Pumpkin!” the strange man stated joyfully, as he opened his arms and took Pro into a bear hug, which alarmed Chu enough that he released his service weapon from his holster.
“D-Dad?” Detective Pro Thompson stammered, as the two officers and her partner stared in disbelief.
2. Linking Rings
An hour later, while Chu tapped away at a keyboard, Pro stared through the one-way glass at her father in the interrogation room. “Did he get his phone call?”
Chu didn’t look up but continued to type. “He even got two.”
“Two?”
“Yeah, one was to his lawyer,” Chu replied, and stopped to look up at his partner. “So, you want to tell me about this guy?”
“Not much to tell,” Pro replied, still looking at the glass, her mouth a tight line.
“Oh, really?” Chu blurted. “He slips out of a pair of regulation handcuffs like taking off a bracelet. Then you call him ‘Dad.’ Next thing I know, he clams up, says he won’t talk to anyone without his lawyer. At least we got him down here without any trouble. But you’ve hardly said two words since we picked him up.”
“I was just surprised to see him,” Pro fumed, still unable to look away. “His name is Maxwell Martin, but you probably know him as Max Marvell.”
“That magician from television?” Chu frowned. “I thought he worked in Vegas.”
“He did. I mean, he does. I mean, I don’t know why he’s here.” Pro put her folded index finger to her lips in thought.
“You called him Dad. I always thought your dad was a cop. You told me your father passed away, what was it, two years ago?”
Pro turned to face her partner, and her eyes grew hard. “Joe Thompson was technically my stepfather. But to me he was my father. He was a beat cop and an inspiration. He was the reason I went into law enforcement.” She glanced back at the man in the closed room with anger. “This guy is just a mistake my mother made.”
“Okay, I still need a little more information, Pro,” Chu said, his hands open in a pleading gesture.
Pro sighed heavily. “Max and my mom were married, and I was born.”
