Charles looked at the hole, dead center. If Malakhai was holding any cards for Louisa, he would find it difficult to put them back into play.

The magician was laughing, unoffended. The rabbi sighed.

„I broke your bread board,“ said Mallory, taking her seat at the table. „I’ll replace it.“

Edward Slope picked up one of the damaged cards and held it to the light. „It would’ve been so much easier with a bullet. All right, Kathy, I almost believe you didn’t shoot that balloon.“

Only Charles was deeply disturbed as he picked up his hand and stared at the holes. This trick of hers should have been impossible. His good fleet brain was calculating the tensile strength of a deck of cards, estimating the force, the amount of tightly focused rage necessary to do what she had done.

They began the next round with the click of plastic chips falling into a pile at the center of the table. Perhaps, coincidentally, Louisa entered into a losing streak.

As Mallory would say, Yeah, right.

Three hands later, Mallory was sitting before the largest pile of chips, and Charles was still pondering the holes in the playing cards. He had only heard one thwack of the bread board. Maybe she was trying her own hand at illusion. She could have skewered them quietly, one by one, and then broken the board for effect. Perhaps this was her version of flexing muscles for an opponent. On the darker side, he now believed she could have done in the deck all at once – and in anger. Both possibilities worried him.

She was still pumping Malakhai for information. Everyone else was diverted by the movement of Louisa’s sherry glass. It was levitating, floating in the air above the table and tipping back in the natural fashion of an unnatural person sipping her wine. The rigging for this trick was seamless. No illusion of Malakhai’s had ever been destroyed by an obvious wire. The glass settled delicately to the wood.

Marvelous piece of work.

Yet the magician had failed to distract Mallory from her inquisition. Now he threw up his hands. „I don’t see the problem. I’m sure you know Oliver died because his cuff key broke in the lock.“

Her smile was so slight it was barely there. „But how did you know that?“

Indeed, how did Malakhai know? Charles remembered Riker saying that the press release would not be distributed until tomorrow. If the other magicians had known about the broken key, they would surely have mentioned it by now.

„Very simple,“ said Malakhai. „I asked the detective who made out the accident report. It is his case.“

Apparently, she took that as a challenge to her authority. Her eyes narrowed, a sure sign of trouble. „It’s my case now. And after I wrap it up, I might even have time left to find out who murdered your wife.“

„She died by accident,“ said Malakhai. „An audience witnessed it.“

„Oliver Tree had a million witnesses. So what? Let’s start with the arrow in Louisa’s shoulder. Here, you said.“ She pointed to her own shoulder and turned to the doctor. „Deltoid muscle, right? And you think I never pay attention during the autopsies.“ She faced Malakhai again. „The arrow had nothing to do with her death. The murder came later – in that fifteen-minute window.“

„The arrow hit an artery,“ said Malakhai. „Louisa lost a lot of blood.“

Mallory shook her head slowly and turned to Edward Slope. „Correct me if I’m wrong, Doctor. I could stick a hole in your aorta and you wouldn’t bleed to death in fifteen minutes.“

„Right,“ said Edward, studying his cards. „Shoulder wound like that onesimple pressure would’ve stopped the bleeding. Medical attention within the hour would’ve prevented the damage of shock.“ He looked up with a sudden afterthought. „But the timing is always off in an emergency. People panic and – “

Mallory shook her head. „Panicky civilians always estimate on the high side. If an ambulance shows in four minutes, the witnesses claim it took forty. So if Malakhai says fifteen minutes, it might’ve been only ten, or even five minutes.“

The magician glanced at the empty chair. „I’ve never spoken about her death in public. It’s – “

„Sensible,“ she said, nodding in approval. „Never talk without a lawyer present. Your wife knew her killer, and she was alone with him when she died. So I figure she was carried backstage. That’s where the arrow was removed. Right?“

Malakhai nodded.

„And she was in a place with some cover, a door to close. Right again?“ She didn’t wait for his answer. „Of course. The perp needed privacy to kill her. So she’s lying on the floor, and he takes a pillow, something soft that won’t leave any marks or – “

„I’ve got a problem with the pillow,“ said Slope. „Not enough trauma for retinal damage and discoloration.“

„Right,“ said Mallory. „The bleeding eyes, the red blush. And you forgot the pink froth at her mouth. We’ll just put some pressure on her chest, okay?“ She turned back to Malakhai. „So she’s lying on the floor being smothered to death. But she’s not dying fast enough to suit the man who’s killing her. Louisa struggles, she’s fighting to stay alive. That’s where most of the blood is coming from. It’s pumping out of the wound because she’s using all her strength to push the pillow away so she can breathe. She’s getting weaker – all that blood, not enough air. But she won’t die. And the killer? He’s frightened, panicked. People are gathering outside the door. One of them might come in at any moment. And she’s still fighting him, still holding on, waiting for someone to help her. So he puts one knee on her chest to pin her to the floor. And then he puts all his weight on top of her – crushing the life out of her. She tries to scream, but all the while, he’s pressing down with that pillow. She’s in pain, but still fighting. Then she stops screaming. She knows no one can hear her. No one is coming. It’s so quiet, she can hear the bones breaking in her chest. And finally, finally she – “

„Kathy, that’s enough!“ said the rabbi, breaking the spell she had cast over the room. „This is his wife’s death you’re discussing. It’s – “

„Very rude,“ said Dr. Slope. „And presumptuous. I can think of three fast poisons that would’ve produced froth and retinal hemorrhage.“

„Poison is unreliable,“ said Mallory, as if she were exchanging cookie recipes with the medical examiner. „Smothering is better – no obvious marks on the throat, no chemical residue in the body.“ She spoke to the empty seat at the table. „Who killed you, Louisa?“

Malakhai slowly turned his head toward the phantom. „She declines to answer.“

Mallory smiled. „I thought she might. Did she tell you to call a lawyer?“ The rabbi slammed his hand flat on the table. „Kathy!“ Mallory feigned surprise, but not well. „I didn’t accuse him.“ Dr. Slope folded his arms across his chest, completely disengaged from the game. „What did the local coroner say?“

Malakhai shrugged. „There was no autopsy, no investigation.“ Mallory nodded. „It was easier for the local police to write up the death as accidental, less paperwork – as long as no one protested the finding. And I’m betting you didn’t. What a lucky break for the killer.“ She pushed her chair back from the table. „I think I’ve made my point on accidental death.“

„But not proved it,“ said Malakhai. „If you can prove murder more than fifty years after the fact, I’ll tell you how Max Candle did the Lost Illusion.“

The weight of personality was dipping back toward Malakhai’s side of the table. He was calling her out.

All eyes were turned on Mallory.

„I told you, Malakhai – I don’t need your help. And I don’t need incentive either. Oliver dedicated his last trick to your wife. Maybe he was feeling guilty. Maybe you were angry. If I find out he’s the one who killed Louisa, you’re going to need a good criminal lawyer.“