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“What about Ian Boz?” Jason asked.
Devant and Fields looked at each other in alarm. Devant demanded, “What about him? Did something happen to Boz?”
“No. Would you include Ian Boz among those who wanted Michael Khan dead?”
“Oh. No. Of course not. Hell, Boz was pretty much Khan’s only friend. Boz is no killer.”
“Okay, well, that’s three down. Next best guess as to who in the magic community might want Khan out of the way?”
Devant looked thoughtful, but Fields said, “What kind of question is that?”
One that usually produced interesting answers. Not this time, though, and as much as Jason wanted to follow this line of inquiry, he was supposed to be investigating the art theft.
“Minerva seems to believe Boz may have colluded with Michael to fake the theft of the collection.”
Once more Fields and Devant exchanged looks. “I can’t see that,” Fields said. “I don’t want to contradict Minerva, but…”
Devant pulled a pocket watch out and exclaimed at the time. “Sorry, Ted. Officers. I have to run. I’m late for my audition.”
“Don’t be late for your audition,” Fields agreed quickly.
“One last question,” Jason asked. “Where were you Friday night?”
Devant stared at him, laughed, and walked out of the office.
“Seriously?” Dreyfus said.
“You’ll have to excuse Doug,” Fields said. “He gets nervous before an audition.”
Devant had not presented like a guy with a nervous bone in his entire body, but Jason let it go. He thought Devant’s reactions had been interesting throughout the short interview. “What’s his act?”
“Doug’s an old-school illusionist. Did you ever hear of Harry Blackstone—Senior, I mean.”
“Sure.”
“Really?” Fields looked surprised.
Jason nodded. “The Great Blackstone. Yes.”
“Well, Doug modeled himself on Blackstone. He does the whole white tie and tails bit, and he even performs a lot of Blackstone’s routines. The Kellar Levitation, sawing a lady in half, that kind of thing. And then stuff for the kiddies too. Pulling rabbits out of hats and bouquets from under tables. Very classy. Very traditional. He does a terrific version of the Floating Light Bulb.”
Dreyfus murmured, “The Floating Light Bulb?”
“Right. It’s the trick that made Blackstone famous. He invented it. In the trick, the magician takes a glowing light bulb from a lamp and makes it float around the stage and through a hoop. Then the lamp itself floats out over the heads of the audience. It’s still a terrific gag, even after all this time.”
“How does it work?” Dreyfus asked.
Fields gave an exaggerated shrug. “Magic.”
Jason sighed. “Any idea of where Devant was on Friday?”
“He’d have been at the memorial for Santos. Doug was a huge admirer of Santos.”
Fields had plenty more to say, mostly about what a wonderful thing the magic convention was going to be for Cheyenne magicians and the magic community, and mostly not useful. He did offer Dreyfus and Jason tickets to the sold-out Friday night opening of Top Hat White Rabbit.
“No thank you,” Dreyfus said firmly.
Fields handed the tickets to Jason. “Bring a date.”
