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Terry slowly shook his head. “He was trying to rebuild his act, you know.”
“Who? Boz? As a magician, you mean?”
“Yes. He wrangled it so he was going to be one of the opening acts this weekend. There’s a new magic club opening up.”
“Top Hat White Rabbit?” Jason asked.
Terry looked as amazed as if Jason had pulled his own white rabbit out of a top hat. “Yes. That’s right. He hadn’t performed in front of a big crowd for years, so he was kind of nervous.”
Was that supposed to explain Boz’s guilty behavior?
“Thank you,” Jason said. “Don’t forget you’ve got my number if Boz contacts you—or if you think of anything that might be helpful.”
“I won’t forget,” Terry said.
As Jason was on his way out, he passed a shelf of vintage magic kits. A 1960s Zenith Magic, a 1970s Remco Magic Kit, and a 1990s Pressman Magic Act Kit… There were plenty of new kits too. He pointed to the 1940s 102 E-Z Magic Starter Kit for Kids & Adult Magicians. “I had one of these. It was used. Half the booklet got soaked and was unreadable, but I still loved it.”
Terry said, “Yeah? It would be worth something now.”
Jason smiled. “It was worth something then.”
Chapter Fourteen
“I can’t believe I walked right into that punch.” Dreyfus moaned.
She was sitting behind her desk, holding a plastic bag of ice against her swollen face. They had been going over their case, such as it was, for the last ten minutes.
“I still don’t understand why you went after him,” Jason said. “We didn’t have anything on him. He was within his rights to refuse to answer our questions.”
She raised her head and glared. “Why did he run, then?”
“Sometimes people do.”
“Why’d he punch me, then?”
“I don’t know. I’d say he really, really doesn’t want to go back to prison.” They’d already had it out over her leaving her partner in the dust and failing to wait for backup. No need to belabor the point. He liked the fact that she had taken the reprimand without getting angry or defensive. He liked that she took a black eye with a sturdy sort of resignation. He liked her. She was green, but she had guts and grit.
She shook her head. “Did we get anywhere today?”
“Sure we did. We learned that almost everyone believes Michael Khan was behind the theft of his own collection—and that there’s no shortage of suspects in Khan’s murder.” He added hastily, “Not that the last is relevant, because we’re not investigating Khan’s murder.”
Dreyfus muttered her discontent and shifted the ice pack.
“We learned that Minerva Khan looks to have an airtight alibi on the night of the theft. Although we also learned she claims to have total recall, yet told investigators she has trouble remembering the security codes to her own home.”
“Hey, that’s right.”
“She’s strong and she’s got nerve, but judging by her skimpy stage costume, she doesn’t appear to have sustained any injuries or bruising, which she probably would have if she had garroted her husband.”
“She could have hired someone.”
“True. And it sounds like there was no love lost there, but most people settle for slaughtering each other in court. Anyway.” Jason once again remembered that they were not investigating the murder of Michael Khan. He said briskly, “If Ian Boz is to be believed, we learned that although Khan planned to steal his collection, someone else got there first. Unless Khan accused Boz in an attempt to cover his own tracks.”
“But is the word of a con man and trickster to be believed?”
“Probably not. Boz certainly has the knowledge and resources to traffic the Khan collection. Khan obviously thought Boz would make the ideal fence. And we know Boz does not have an alibi for the night the Khan collection vanished or he’d have offered that up.”
“True. And the same of Sunday night.”
