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“Do I look like a ‘ma’am’ to you?” Adrian said, and stood up straight so that her impressive chest thrust out at Chu, who stepped back a bit in surprise. Adrian considered it for a moment, then relaxed, turned and walked back toward a sofa. “Yeah, I guess I do.”
She sat down languidly and picked up a nearby cocktail and took a delicate sip, which made the half-melted ice cubes clink. “So how can I help you ossifers—officers?”
She smiled sweetly at them.
“Are you familiar with Al Floss?”
“I should be. He grabbed my ass every time I went into that damn store of his. Ugh, what a lecher! Fortunately, I knew enough not to get stuck in that back room with him.”
Chu took out his pad and a pen. “You’re suggesting that Mister Floss liked the ladies?”
“I’m suggested that ‘ole Flossy’ was a perv who put his hands where they were unwanted. But I don’t think he’d be brought up on charges, considering I was one of maybe three women who ever went into his establishment.”
“So, there aren’t many female magicians?” Pro suggested.
“Damn straight!” Adrian said. “And I don
’t blame them. If you wanna be a female magician, you got to be able to do everything a male magician does, except backwards and in a dress. Tell you, if I could sing, I would’ve never taken it up.”
“Really?” Pro said as a way of encouragement.
“Sure, can’t carry a tune at all. And the other reason there aren’t a lot of women in magic is that guys learn tricks to get laid! Not that the majority of them ever do. But a lady don’t need illusions to get stud service, ya get me, sweetie?” She gave Pro an overtly obvious wink.
Pro gave a wan smile, her coffee and cream complexion turning a tad red. “Sure, sure.”
Chu cleared his throat. “Miss Novack—”
“I’m Gray,” she corrected drunkenly. “Adrianna Gray.”
She gestured at several posters on the wall that showed her in different tight costumes. In one, she was holding a magician’s top hat from which came an endless supply of silks, flowers, and other paraphernalia. She wore a short set of tails with fishnet stockings, high heels, and a black thong.
The next poster showed her in a formal evening dress with a man floating horizontally in the air with only a broom supporting him under his one arm. He was the one wearing very little in this poster—just shorts and a bike messenger shirt.
The final poster had her in a bikini holding a rabbit high in the air and bore the caption, “NOTHING UP MY SLEEVES.” It must have been from years earlier, because in the cat suit you could see where she had filled out a little more than in the advertisement.
“Miss…uh…Gray,” Chu said. “I need to know where you were on Friday between 10:00 and 11:00 AM.”
“Driving!” she moaned. “I was just getting back into town after a week of gigs in fuckin’ Pennsylvania.”
“Really?” Pro said.
“That old bastard, Max Marvell, is working Vegas, every night the same theater, easy-peasy. I gotta rent vans and schlep all my crap to fuckin’ Pennsylvania. I’m tellin’ you this business sucks.”
“Were you aware of Mister Floss’s death?”
“Yeah, he probably grabbed the wrong broad’s ass,” she cackled at her own remark and sat down again.
“We understand,” Pro said, “that you were attempting to buy a set of plans from Mister Floss.”
“I wanted to. I wanted to show Max that I was his equal in every way. Do you know the last time I was in Vegas I offered him a blow job if he’d tell me the secret to Prism? The old bastard turned me down!” she huffed. “His loss!”
She took another sip from the cocktail.
Pro looked down at the floor and kept her anger in check. “Miss Gray, we need to know if you had any luck in attempting to purchase those plans.”
“Nah! Got too rich for my blood. I don’t have an extra fifty K for just one trick. Hell, I built my whole show for less than that—not much less, I’ll tell you.”
Chu tried to keep her on track. “Have you seen or spoken to anyone about the trick or the plans since Mister Floss’s death on Friday?”
