Charles was walking toward her as she pressed the suit against her own tall body. „Lovely,“ he said. „Where did it come from?“

She nodded toward the trunk. „I know it didn’t belong to your cousin’s wife. Edith was too short.“

His hand grazed one of the shipping labels. „Faustine’s Magic Theater. I remember this. It was part of a large shipment from an abandoned theater in Paris. Max bought up the entire stock after the war. The costumes must have belonged to one of the performers. When I was a little boy, this trunk was always locked.“

Mallory riffled through the lingerie in the top drawer. Her hand touched a flat object, and she pulled out a passport. The name on the inside page was clear, but the photograph had been mutilated, the face scratched away with a sharp object. Turning to the other side of the trunk, where the clothes were racked, she prowled through them, pocket by pocket, until she found a card with French text and the same name. „The trunk belonged to Louisa Malakhai. I wonder what Edith thought of her husband keeping another woman’s clothes?“

„If you’re thinking she might have been jealous, you couldn’t be more wrong,“ said Charles. „Louisa died years before Max even met Edith.“

„Another accident?“ Mallory looked down at the lock. It had been forced, but long ago. Rust filled the marks made by a tool twisting the metal catch. Charles had said it was always locked when he was a child, but perhaps Max Candle was still alive when his wife had broken it open.

She casually handed him Louisa Malakhai s open passport. As he looked down at the inside page, his face was suddenly grim. Perhaps he was drawing his own conclusions about who had vandalized the photograph and why. And now he was looking at the obvious damage to the lock. His freakish brain could add up evidence faster than hers.

„Accidents happen,“ said Charles, setting the passport on the top of the trunk, pretending he had not seen that bit of wifely violence in the scratches across the face of another woman. „In fact, that’s why Max retired the crossbow trick after one performance. Someone died attempting it.“

„But it’s all a cheat,“ said Mallory. „You’d have to work at it to get killed in a magic act.“

„In most cases, you’d be right,“ said Charles. „Even Houdini was no Houdini. But Max wasn’t like any other magician.“

She followed him to the other side of the dragon screen, where more globe lights and another old floor lamp illuminated the plastic drapes of metal wardrobe racks. Inside the protective cover of cellophane, a thousand rhinestones threw back a riot of light. Silk and satin materials gleamed in every color. Beyond the racks were rows of sturdy metal shelving material, and this was all that Mallory approved of. She cared nothing for the contents of the shelves, the dust-gathering clutter of leather hatboxes and giant playing cards, ornate painted canisters and small trunks. There were so many cartons and loose goods spread across the rest of the floor, it would take years to inventory Charles’s inheritance.

The lamp farthest from the dragon screen illuminated the familiar guillotine. High in the air, a wicked metal blade hung waiting between tall stocks of wood. She pointed to it. „I know that’s a cheat.“

„Well, Max created the guillotine back in the days when Edith was in the act, losing her head every night. She wasn’t inclined to take risks.“

Charles looked over the large wooden boxes ganged together on the floor. Tall panels of thick wood were propped up against one wall of shelves. „As I recall, the platform is peg-and-groove construction, like a giant Erector set.“

Two hours later, the shell had been assembled into a box nine feet square and fronted with stairs. The other three sides were paneled in dark rosewood. Thirteen steps led to a stage and two standing posts of light maple. Mallory looked up at the oval target hanging between them. The pegs at the sides of the target were painted black, and so it appeared to float in space. „Looks just like the one Oliver Tree used.“

„It should.“ Charles stood by the side of the platform. „Oliver did most of the work on this one. He was a fine carpenter. There is one difference in the target – the pegs that fit into the post slots. Max’s are wooden. Oliver’s are steel.“

She looked down at the square metal wells sunk into the first step, a pair on each side. They were made to receive the matching brass posts at the bases of the four pedestals. „That’s different, too. In the news clips from Oliver’s act, it looked like the pedestals were bolted down.“

„He was always improving on things. Probably thought it was safer that way. From what I saw of his replica, everything else was the same. But I never had a look at his interior room.“ One hand brushed the center panel of a side wall to the right of the staircase. „The pressure lock should be here.“

He pushed on a slat of wood. The panel opened, and now they could see into the hollow heart of the platform. Overhead, the open trapdoors provided dim light. Charles walked in and pulled the chain of a hanging lamp. The round metal shade cast a bright circle of light on the floor and left the ceiling in shadows.

„Amazing,“ he said. „That bulb is at least thirty years old.“

Mallory leaned into the small room and surveyed the walls of slots, pegs and grooves awaiting their matching parts.

„I never saw Max load the mechanisms.“ Charles stood in the doorway looking over the stacks of unopened crates. „It’s going to be a bit like assembling a Chinese puzzle block.“ He walked over to the nearest box and read the label. „Lazy tongs. I know where this one goes – under the center trapdoor. No other place for it.“

Mallory walked around to the staircase as Charles and the box disappeared into the shell.

He called out, „If you’re ever down here alone, remember there’s no knob on the inside. I got locked in once when I was a little boy.“

„What about the trapdoors?“

„You can’t work them from the inside. They open with the foot levers on the stage.“

„Sounds like careless carpentry.“

„Well, if there is another way to open them, Max never told me. He didn’t want me playing down here alone. Too dangerous, he said.“

Yeah, right.

Mallory was halfway up the platform steps when she heard Riker’s voice calling out, „Hey, where is everybody?“

At this height, she could see over the top of the dragon screen. Her partner was standing on the other side in a sorry mismatch of new and old clothes. Mallory resolved to steal the man’s hat so it could be brushed and blocked. The scuffed shoes would pose a more difficult problem in her project of cleaning Riker.

He rounded the screen and stood before the platform, pointing back toward the dark opening in the accordion wall. „I almost broke my neck out there.“

„You’re late.“ She glanced at the paper sack in his right hand. It was large enough to hold her.357 revolver.

„I stopped to buy a newspaper.“ Riker held it up to display the large block print on the front page. „Congratulations. It’s the longest headline this rag ever ran. ‘Cop slays puppy as a thousand children watch.’“

And now that he had the desired reaction – she was pissed off – he folded the tabloid into the deep pocket of his coat. „Lucky they only ran a photo of the balloon. Now all those little kids won’t recognize you on the street – and pelt you with their beer cans.“ Riker was grinning.

Mallory was not. „So what did Coffey say? Does he still think I’m dangerously nuts?“ Is that what you think, too?

„What?“ A surprised Charles was standing by the side of the platform. „Jack Coffey said that?“

Riker shrugged. „Naw, she’s exaggerating again.“ He looked up at Mallory, six steps above him on the staircase. „The lieutenant never said you were crazy. He just didn’t want the other guys to find out you were seriously gun-happy. There’s a difference.“