The Girl Who Knew Too Much(75)

“What makes him more dangerous?”

“If I’m reading the guy right, he’s a pro who enjoys his work.”





Chapter 40




That night they dined in the hotel’s restaurant. The room was crowded when they walked in shortly after eight, but they were immediately seated in an intimate booth on the balcony level.

The position provided a measure of privacy while simultaneously allowing a sweeping view of the main floor. It was, Irene reflected, a lot like sitting in a box seat at the theater. From her position the dining room was a stage set lit by candlelight. The scene sparkled with crystal, polished silver, and glamorously dressed people.

Oliver’s martini and Irene’s pink lady materialized along with an appetizer tray that featured lobster canapés, olives, and caviar.

“I take it this is your personal booth?” Irene asked.

“I like to keep an eye on my guests, and the view is excellent from up here,” Oliver said. “Most of the people who stay in my hotel eat dinner here even if they’re planning to go out to one of the local clubs later in the evening. I can get a list of those who don’t have reservations here tonight and those who order room service, if necessary. But I’m betting that our visiting monster doesn’t think that he has any reason to hide.”

“What makes you so sure he’ll be here at your hotel?”

“You’re the one he’s after and you’re here.”

“No offense, but your reasoning is quite chilling. Do you really think you can identify him?”

“If he’s here, yes. I’m good at reading people in an audience, Irene. It’s not that hard once you learn to pick up the cues.”

“How do you do it?”

“Like most illusions it’s really very simple,” Oliver said. “You let the subject tell you everything.”

“That actually works?”

“How do you think fortune-tellers, psychics, and mediums make their livings?”

“I’ve always assumed that people who claim to be psychic were all frauds.”

“They are. But they wouldn’t stay in business if they didn’t put on very convincing acts.”

“You’re a magician,” she said, “not a fortune-teller or a psychic or a medium. You didn’t defraud people by making them believe that you could tell them their future or put them in touch with the dead.”

He looked surprised by her vehemence.

“Thank you,” he said. “I like to think there was a difference between my cold-read performances and the fraudulent variety, but the only real difference is that my audience understood that it was an act—just a clever trick. And for the record, I never performed the talk-to-the-dead scam.”

“Of course not. People might have taken that seriously. So many do believe in spirits. You wouldn’t want to be responsible for making someone think that he or she really had communicated with the dead. That would be cruel.”

He seemed a little amused by the certainty in her voice.

“I was a magician, not a con artist,” he said. “But as I told you, a lot of the techniques used in both careers are the same.”

“So, what do you see when you look out at your audience tonight?”

He surveyed the dining room. “A lot of people with too much money and too much time on their hands. A lot of people trying desperately to have fun. A lot of people pretending to be someone else, at least for a night. But here and there, I see people who wish they were somewhere else.”

“Or with someone else?”

“Oh, yeah,” Oliver said. “A lot of those people. I also see some who are trying to reinvent themselves.”

“Such as?”

Oliver swallowed some of his martini and angled his head very casually toward a booth down below.

“See the two women sitting together in the corner?”

Irene followed his glance and spotted an attractive blonde dressed in a yellow-gold gown with a cowl neck cut very deep. The woman with her was a brunette dressed in violet. Both were drinking martinis and watching the room like a pair of hawks sizing up the local pigeon population.

“What about them?” Irene asked.

“They both checked in today. They spent the last six weeks in Reno at a divorce ranch and now they’re free.”

Irene picked up her pink lady. “We in the gossip paper business call it taking the Reno cure.”

The notorious quickie divorces available in Nevada were simple enough from a legal point of view, and they had certainly made things much easier for women, especially, to escape an unhappy marriage. In other states the process often took a year or longer, and the laws strongly favored the husbands.