Sleight of Hand (10 page)

Chapter 18

When they left the study, Darren's son, Todd, was walking in from the breakfast room. "They're in there playing chess," he said. "They said I could play the winner, but I don't think they'll finish before next week."

Shelley hurried off to the breakfast room and Barbara followed. Frank said to Todd,

"Did I hear you volunteer to help out here?" Sure.

"You can carry this out to the table and I'll bring these." He handed Todd a platter with what looked like a mountain of assorted seafood under a plastic cover and he carried a bowl of chopped cilantro and another of snipped parsley. At the fire ring he adjusted the burner and uncovered the seafood. As soon as the rice came to a simmer again he began adding chunks of halibut and salmon, shrimp, mussels and clams.

"What's that?" Todd asked pointing.

"Mussels."

"Why are they black?"

"Because nature made them that way."

Todd looked skeptical but made no further comment. Others had come to watch and sniff. "You could take the salad out," Frank said to Barbara, "and the wine could be uncorked. This will be ready in about five minutes. Bread's on the counter."

A few minutes later he began filling their plates. When Todd held his out he said firmly, "Please, no black mussels."

Evidently the boy had decided that nothing edible came in shiny black cases.

If getting up to serve themselves seconds indicated a successful meal, Frank admitted to himself as they ate, his dinner was a tremendous success. Todd, he noticed, went for a third helping, but no black anything appeared on his plate.

After dessert of strawberries with crème fraîche, a very contented group was prepared for the entertainment of the evening, the videos of Wally at work. He had given Barbara two.

Barbara had not told anyone what was on the videos, only that it was a performance by her client. The first one was the act for which she and Frank had seen the demo.

This version was complete with sound.

The M.C. was on stage, music faded and he said, "Ladies and gentlemen, prepare to be amazed!"

There was a drumroll, then lively music as the spotlight focused on Wally as he wound in and out of the tables, greeting people. Music faded as the M.C. asked for volunteers, and rose again as the scantily clad women brought out the table and arranged the cloth. The male volunteers walked on stage and stood in a cluster looking awkward as Wally made his way up, then left again as soon as he was handed a microphone.

He approached a nearby table, where he stopped, reached down and untwisted the microphone wire from his leg. He had the woman at the table introduce herself, held the mike out to the man who said he was her husband, then somehow managed to get the wire twisted again, as he coaxed the woman to be his volunteer and gallantly escorted her to the stage where he made a show of seating her at the head of the table.

It was all engaging, his smile was charming, and his act with the cord very convincing. His timing was perfect, and he seemed every bit a born performer.

The last time he got the cord twisted, he looked exasperated, held his hand over the microphone, motioned to the stagehand and held a whispered conversation with him.

The stagehand left, then returned with a lapel mike, took the other one and walked off shaking his head.

"Look, Meg, no hands!" Wally said, finally going to his volunteers, where he continued a fast-paced banter as he had them introduce themselves, and seated them ceremoniously one by one. One, a newlywed, received especially solicitous care.

He began to talk about driving to Canada to get cheaper drugs and at that point he happened to find the belt in his pocket. He held it up with a surprised expression.

The young man half rose, clutching his pants, and Wally tossed him the belt. The audience was laughing raucously. "Cut him a little slack, folks," he said. "After all, he's on his honeymoon.

"So we were all the way up in Michigan before someone on the radio said they were talking about prescription drugs. What's this?" He pulled out a wallet. It was fast action then as he pulled one item after another from his pockets, eyeglasses, a watch... "I've noticed that as we make our way through life, we sort of accumulate things, a lot of stuff seems to come our way and stick." He pulled out a necklace.

"You wonder, how'd I manage to get so much stuff." One last wallet. He turned out his pockets then held out his empty hands.

Both audiences were delighted.

Wally invited the audience members to claim their possessions and explained the woman volunteer's role, to verify the owners of the purloined items and return them.

He thanked his volunteers for being good sports.

When everything had been retrieved, he treated his last volunteer as if she were a queen and escorted her off the stage. He bounded back to give the uniformed men a chance to pat him down. He gave the M.C. a bear hug and lifted his wallet at the same time, returned it to even more applause and laughter, and was gone.

"How does he do that?" Shelley gasped through her laughter. "He's wonderful!"

"Nothing short of genius," Dr. Minnick said, grinning.

Although Frank had been watching closely and knew what to watch for, he had not spotted Wally in the act a single time. He nodded at Minnick's assessment, genius.

"Maybe the next video will show us a little of how he does it," Barbara said, putting the cassette in the machine.

The video started with Wally moving easily among an assembled group of men and women and a voice-over. "The video you are watching was made at the University of Ohio, in Columbus. The event was a weekend symposium on urban crime, the attendees were mayors, city managers, chiefs of police, sheriffs and other law enforcement officials. Tonight's guest speaker is Mr. Wallis Lederer, who is an expert in one aspect of urban crime. No other details about his expertise have been revealed. None of the action has been rehearsed, none of the participants is acquainted with Mr. Lederer."

There were a few other details, and during it the video camera followed Wally, sometimes fairly closely, other times at a slight distance, but he was in the frame at all times. He greeted people, shook hands, bumped into a few, helped avoid spilled drinks and, except for the fact that he was not carrying a drink, he was just like any other member of the crowd. They were all wearing name tags.

There wasn't a sound in the living room as they all watched intently.

The camera followed Wally to the stage and he was introduced as the assembled group found tables and chairs.

Wally took his place behind a small podium to the side of the panelists' table. There was a smattering of polite applause.

Wally's smile was as big and open as it had been when he was entertaining at the casino, but he became sober-faced quickly. He thanked the audience and the host, then said, "I want to talk about a crime that is committed every day in every city on earth. It takes place at fairs, malls, subways, busy crosswalks, ball games, any place where a number of people gather and mingle. It is the crime of the pickpocket. And I'm something of an authority, since in my youth, and as a young man, I was one of them.

"I served time," Wally continued. "And a wise old man taught me to value the gift I had, but to put it to good purpose instead of using it to exploit my fellow travelers through life. I took his advice. Tonight, ladies and gentlemen, here among the most alert and aware members of society, there has been a crime. Check your pockets and purses, check your wrists for your watches. As I was mingling with you, introducing myself, meeting you good people, I was also robbing many of you."

Wally smiled, moved to the table, and started to empty his pockets and put the stolen goods on it. "Mr. Rowlands, if you would be so kind as to ensure that these all get back to their rightful owners, I would surely appreciate it." The host came quickly to the table. Wally stepped back and said, "As soon as all stolen property has been returned to its proper owner, I want to show you a video. Thanks to modern technology I can do this. Ever since I entered this hall I have been on video.

Please welcome my assistant, Mr. Carl Hanrahan." He did not appear on camera, but there was more applause, and now people were reclaiming their wallets, a watch or two, a necklace. Some of them were grim, others grinning, shaking their heads sheepishly.

"Mr. Hanrahan will show the video he has been making. Most of it will be speeded up in the interest of saving time, but now and then it will be shown in slow motion,"

Wally said, paying little attention to those trooping onstage and leaving again. "Each time I committed a crime I signaled to Mr. Hanrahan and he noted where to slow the action to show it in real time, and then reverse it to show again in very slow motion."

The last person, a woman, picked up her wallet, glared at Wally and walked off the stage. He smiled. "I don't blame her. I'd be sore, too. I think Mr. Hanrahan is ready to show the video. If we could dim the lights a little."

The video was little more than a blur as it sped through the opening. When it slowed, Wally, off camera now, said, "Here it comes, first in real time." It looked as if he had accidentally bumped into a man, apologized, moved away. The film stopped, blurred as it was reversed, then started again in the slow mode.

"Watch my left hand. First the bump, followed by what is actually a prolonged apology and an attempt to help the victim regain his balance, always suspicious, by the way. But, as I'm steadying him with my right hand, my left hand is at his back pocket. There it is, and into my pocket it goes."

The video sped up again. "Now the bump into someone who is not the victim."

Again the action was shown in real time, then in very slow time. "See, her companion has been bumped, and while she is distracted by this, and he is steadying himself with my help, I am in her purse." He lifted her wallet and put it in his pocket. In slow motion it appeared so obvious that it was a wonder that he had gotten away with it.

In real time it had been imperceptible.

One by one he demonstrated maneuvers a pickpocket might use. When the video stopped, there was some applause, and the camera was focused on Wally again. He was leaning against the podium looking relaxed and amused.

"You just saw a few tricks of the trade," he said. "There are many more tricks up the pickpocket's sleeve. I've made available a much longer video, on cassette or DVD, of the tools in his toolbox. It's priced at the cost of the cassette or disk, plus mailing and handling. Available only to legitimate law enforcement officials." He grinned broadly. "I don't want to be held responsible for starting a school for thieves. During the intermission Mr. Hanrahan will be glad to take orders, or you can pick up an order form and mail it in. And that concludes my presentation for this evening.

Thanks for your attention."

There was thunderous applause. He waved, his big smile in place, and the video ended.

There was a flurry of movement among the home viewers, and many comments as they began to leave their chairs.

"He's a magician."

"...total concentration every single second. Yet he looked so relaxed."

"He has complete control of both hands at all times."

"Getting the watch was the neatest part. Man, oh man, if I could do that."

"Even showing how he does it, it still looks impossible."

"Anyone want more coffee, another drink?" Frank asked.

No one did. They began to thank Frank for a marvelous dinner, and Barbara for the great entertainment, and it was not very long before everyone was gone and she and Frank returned to the kitchen to finish the little bit of cleaning up.

"He'll make a fantastic witness," Barbara said, after putting away the dishes from the dishwasher. "I just hope he doesn't come across as too slick for his own good."

Frank nodded, then said, "I think Wally knows exactly how to please whatever audience he has."

She decided she didn't want to think too deeply about what that meant.

"You know Meg writes all his material," she said, "except for the ad-libbed parts, I mean. He's great at ad-libs, and his delivery is top-notch, perfect timing. But her material is first-rate, too. She could have had a real career as a writer, comedy, children's fiction, I bet whatever she turned to."

"I suspect that's very much on Wally s mind. Why he's so determined not to let his predicament get in her way again," Frank said.

"Even to the point of facing the gallows for a killing he didn't do," she replied glumly.

Chapter 19

"Okay," Bailey said on Monday morning. "Not much, but here it is. I talked to some of the guys at the dealership. They all hated him, but not enough to haul off and take him out. And they aren't going to volunteer anything. New management is coming in from corporate headquarters and they don't know where they stand, they aren't taking chances."

"Nothing concrete, just a general hatred?" Barbara asked.

"Could be nothing more than the hired hands complaining about the boss. One kid, part-time after school and weekends, opened up a little. He was there for a year.

Wilkins was on his back a lot. It's in there." He tapped a folder he had put down on the round table.

She nodded. "Some names for you to check out. People who were at the party they gave for Eric Wilkins's boyfriend." She handed him a list. "Any of the people at the dealership own a big black car or van?"

He shook his head. "Nothing there. One, but it's accounted for. At the coast with a bunch of kids."

"Anything new about Connie Wilkins?"

He shook his head again. "I bet I know as much as they do, and it adds up to zilch.

Or else they're keeping a tighter zip on it than ever."

She spread her hands. "I guess that's it for now. Get me copies of these and you and Hannah might want to watch them. Wally's act." She handed him the two cassettes.

And that was it, she repeated to herself after Bailey left. If nothing broke, that's all she would have: a lot of people who had disliked Jay Wilkins, and no one who had had an immediate cause for wanting to kill him.

When Wally and Meg arrived that afternoon, he looked far too happy for a man facing a murder charge, Barbara thought, a bit sourly.

She introduced Shelley and they all seated themselves on the sofa and comfortable chairs around the table.

"You look like a man who just won the lottery," Frank commented.

"Almost that good. I talked to my agent this morning. He's lined up four bookings for me in Vegas. I had to turn down one for October. Told him I'll be tied up." He flashed his smile at Barbara. "But I'm on for November, January and February."

She thought he was perhaps too optimistic. His trial was scheduled for mid-October.

"I guess I'm about as retired as you are," he added to Frank. "But that's it, three, four gigs a year. Meg might go to some of them, maybe not, depending on what she's up to. Now, with a real home roost, there's not much appeal to flying off to Vegas. Rest of the time, home. I'm thinking of setting up a little woodworking shop in the barn, might be fun to fool around. I was pretty good once."

Frank thought he sounded a lot like a boy with a new bicycle.

"We watched your show," Shelley said. "It's really great!"

Wally bowed his head and thanked her. "Now, about our minute-by-minute account," he said to Barbara. "You said you have some questions about those two nights."

"I do, but Meg first. When you first spoke to Jay Wilkins that night in the casino, you said you mentioned that you had run out of quarters and wanted to go home.

Was there more than that?"

"I guess so, but it was like that." She thought a moment, then said, "I think it was something like I ran out of quarters and since my limit to lose was ten dollars, I was done for the night."

"Do you remember how you were dressed? Jewelry? Dressed up?"

"We never dress up much when we go to the casinos. Except when Wally's got a show."

"When he asked you where you had been all those years, can you remember exactly what you said?"

Meg was looking bewildered. "Just around. I said we had moved around a lot and wanted to settle down. Oh, I said we had bought this old farmhouse that we were fixing up."

"You didn't say restoring, just fixing up?"

"That's how I think of it," Meg said. "What are you getting at?"

"I'm still trying to understand why he invited you to his house. From everything I've heard and read about him, he had two modes of dealing with people. He apparently was quite charming with those he considered important. With anyone he thought beneath him he was anything but charming. Brusque, even rude at times. They weren't people he would spend an extra minute with. I wondered where you fit in."

"You just described his old man," Wally said.

"You weren't dressed up much, either?"

"Slacks, sport jacket, Hush Puppies shoes. Nothing fancy.

We didn't look anything like his high-rolling buddies." He held up his hands. "Look, calluses. A laborer's hands, that's what he saw."

"So he wouldn't have thought of you as influential, or prospective customers,"

Barbara said. "It just doesn't mesh with what I've learned about him."

"He was setting me up," Wally said.

"The real question is why. Anyway, you looked him over closely, and he backed off a little. Did his expression change? Did he look you over? Exactly what was his reaction?"

"He'd been sort of not very interested. We shook hands. At least we touched hands, but his hand was a little swollen, he said arthritis, the rain made it act up, and it wasn't much of a handshake. His eyes were roving as if he was checking on who else might be around. You know, the way you do when you don't want to hang around long. You're looking for someone more interesting. Then he looked..." He paused as if thinking. "Maybe tighter, more aware of me than he'd been. That's when I told Meg I'd cash in my chips and she should wait by the door while I went out to bring the car around. That's when he invited us to the house."

"Why did you tell her that?"

"I thought it was raining again. It had been raining off and on most of the day. It was pouring when we left the restaurant and went back to the motel to change. We were pretty wet. I didn't see any point in both of us getting wet again. If the rain hadn't stopped earlier, we wouldn't have gone back out that night. But it did, and I thought it must have started again."

"Why did you think so?" Barbara asked. "There aren't any windows in casinos."

"Jay's slacks were wet below the knees," he said promptly. "He had gray slacks, and the legs were darker low down, not dripping, but wet, and I thought he had just come in because his hair was sort of matted down, the way it gets when you wear a cap or hat."

"What else did you notice?" Barbara asked. None of this was in the written report they had made.

"Sand in his shoes, on the laces, and in the seams. Not a lot, but some. I thought he might have been walking on the beach and got caught in a new squall or something.

And that's about it."

"So he invited you to his house. Did he say anything else?"

"Just what I wrote down for you. With his wife away, it was lonesome in the big house. It would be good to talk about old times. And he said for me to keep my hands in my pockets. He sort of laughed, but it was a dig." Wally shrugged. "We'd already said okay, so I just let it go. We went to cash in, and he kept walking the other way. That was the end of it."

"Was it raining when you left?"

"Nope. We went out together, got in the car and drove to the motel. The car wasn't even wet."

"Did you notice the time?"

"Not then. We got back to our room at twenty minutes before eleven."

Barbara flipped the pages of the report they had given her and stopped at another place she had highlighted. "At his house, when he put his hand on the glass case, did he say anything about it?"

Wally shook his head. "Not in words. But his attitude, his expression was like, see, it's mine now and I can smear it up all I want to."

There were several other points she had either Meg or Wally go over, and when she was done, she didn't know if she had learned anything useful or not.

After Wally and Meg left, Shelley said, "I talked to the two used-car dealers Wilkins was negotiating with. They're both disappointed that he's out of it. And between them it would have taken about a million up front to close the deals."

"Remember, he didn't have a million up front, or out back either," Frank said. "His wife did, he didn't. He hadn't run the dealership into the ground, by any means, but neither was it a gold mine. And he lost a lot in investments these last couple of years."

Friday evening when Barbara got home, she hit the play button on her answering machine to listen to messages while she put away a few groceries. Tomorrow, she was thinking, rest, cookout with Darren and Todd, then not much. On Sunday Darren and his son would leave for two weeks on their ghost town expedition.

She stopped moving when Adele Wykoph's voice came through the machine.

"Barbara, call me. Whatever time you get in, give me a call. I'll be up and waiting."

She sounded enraged.

She called back. "Thank God you're not gone for the weekend," Adele said.

"Soma's here and we have to see you tomorrow. The cops are giving her the runaround, all but patting her on the head. There, there, we'll take care of it. Bullshit!

They want her to go away and leave them alone, that's what they want."

"Adele, slow down. Take it from the top. Who's Sonia? What's going on?"

"Sorry. I'm spitting nails I'm so mad. She's Connie's sister. They called her to tell her they're ready to release Connie's remains. She flew in on Tuesday, and since then she's been on a merry-go-round, lawyers, funeral director and police. She'll have a cremation, receive the ashes on Monday and fly home on Tuesday morning.

Tomorrow morning she's meeting Eric at the house to sort through Connie's personal things, and that means that tomorrow afternoon is about the only time she'll have to consult you. On Sunday she wants to go to the cemetery to pay her respects to David and Steven."

"What do you mean, consult me? What does she want?"

"Some advice from someone who knows criminal law and how to go about seeing that they don't let the death of her sister fall between the cracks."

"She agrees that it wasn't suicide?"

"Absolutely. She thinks someone murdered her, and she wants some answers no one is giving her. Tomorrow, Barbara, as soon as she gets done at the house. One or two."

"Will you be home? Should I come over there?"

"No," Adele said sharply. "This isn't going to be a social call. She wants to talk to you as a professional criminal lawyer. Your office, one or two."