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Diamond shrugged. “Anyway, I can tell you this. The forged checks were a long time ago. Boz isn’t— He didn’t have anything to do with the theft of Mike Khan’s collection.”
Jason said, “What makes you say that?”
“Minerva Khan. She’s the one you want to look at.”
“Minerva? She seems to have a pretty solid alibi. Performing her act in front of almost five hundred people at a private company function.”
“Things are not always what they seem.”
“Now there speaks a magician.”
Diamond said, “I don’t blame Minerva. Khan was a piece of work.”
Dreyfus said, “You believe Minerva Khan is behind the death of her husband?”
Diamond looked startled. “I didn’t mean that. No. Minerva isn’t a murderess. I meant I don’t blame her for orchestrating the theft of that collection. From one perspective, the collection was half hers. She’s the one who really supported them for the past ten years. But Wyoming isn’t a community-property state. Also, the legal ownership of a number of items in the collection is in question. The one area where Khan really was a magician was in finagling the books. There’s a reason he was known as the Kubla Con.”
“You’re speaking from experience?” Jason asked.
“Yes. I am. Not mine, though. Boz’s. Among others within the community.”
“It’s interesting you say this,” Jason said. “Everyone else, including Boz, has suggested Khan orchestrated the theft of his collection.”
Her brows rose, but it was polite inquiry, not surprise. She was not at all surprised.
“Maybe Boz already told you that,” Jason said. “When was the last time you saw him?”
“Who? Khan or Boz?”
Jason said, “Both.”
“It’s a long time since I’ve seen Michael Khan. Months at least.” She squinted thoughtfully. “Boz? I’m not sure. Last week, I think.”
“At the memorial Friday night?” Jason suggested.
He could tell by her eyes he’d scored, but he was unclear how or why.
“I don’t remember if he was there for the entire service. People came and went.”
“But he was there for part of the service?”
“I don’t remember. It was a difficult night for me. Mateo was not young, but…even so.”
The name rang a bell, though Jason couldn’t quite place it. “Mateo?”
She combed her hair out of her face. “Mateo Santos. He is—was—the most highly regarded close-up magician in the entire Western United States.” Her voice was cool, but Jason didn’t think he had imagined the flash of pain when she’d first mentioned Mateo’s name.
“Close-up magician?” Dreyfus questioned.
Jason said, “Table magic. Magic performed right there with the audience standing around you. Sleight-of-hand, misdirection, cardistry.”
“He was so much more than that,” Diamond said impatiently. “Mateo’s thoughts on the art were so…significant. So far beyond the rest of us. Not since the Professor, has anyone so profoundly understood the mysteries of both psyche and…spirit.” She turned away to wipe her eyes.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Jason said.
Diamond said in a suffocated voice, “Mateo’s death is everyone’s loss. Everyone in this community.”
Dreyfus had an odd expression on her face.
