CHAPTER TEN
Paige wasn’t sure that she’d ever seen anywhere quite as strange as the Magical Stars of Las Vegas workshop. It sat on a backstreet of the city, on the outskirts, well away from the strip, and from the outside, it didn’t look like anything special. Just another big warehouse or machine shop, that might have stored furniture or car parts.
The moment she and Christopher stepped inside, though, it was a very different story. The small reception area was filled with magical props, with linked rings hanging above a counter, silk scarves and fake flowers arranged in displays, a whole selection of wands and canes sticking up out of an elaborate hat stand in the shape of an elephant’s foot. The whole place seemed designed to amaze and overwhelm visitors with its oddness.
There were portraits and photographs around the walls, mainly of men all striking what were probably meant to be glamorous poses. Paige guessed that they were all important magicians of the past. Christopher certainly seemed to be looking at them with a certain amount of awe.
“That’s Silencio,” he whispered, nodding to one of the photographs. “He’s pretty much single handedly revived silent magic.”
“Is that rare?” Paige asked. She was quite enjoying this whole kid in a candy store side to her partner. He might be a big tough FBI agent, but here, there was something more excitable to him, something more open and vulnerable.
Paige saw him looking around at the posters, and in that moment, he might have been a kid visiting the magic store for the first time, looking over all the gadgets and the shrink wrapped books on display as if they held all the secrets he could ever want.
It was… cute, and that wasn’t a word she’d ever thought she would use about Christopher. Handsome, yes. Attractive, yes. But cute?
Paige found that she liked it, and had to remind herself to back away and not show any of it. It was better for both of them if things stayed awkward between the two of them, because at least then nothing could ever happen between them.
“It’s one of the most difficult ways of doing stage magic, because you can’t hide anything with stage patter,” Christopher explained.
There was a broad Perspex counter at the front of the reception area, with a young woman sitting behind it, reading a magazine that had obviously been taken from a small rack of them devoted to the Las Vegas magic scene. She wore slacks and a dark t-shirt with the name of the company across the front, and had short dark hair, with slightly too heavy makeup, as if she were always ready for a performance.
“What can I get you?” she said, gesturing to the cabinet built into the counter. There beneath the glass were decks of cards of dozens of different patterns, along with balls, cups, fancy coins, and other items Paige guessed were useful small props for the close up magician. All of it looked individually crafted to Paige’s eye.
Christopher looked like he was actually scanning the contents of the case. Paige guessed that this was a hobby of his that he didn’t get to indulge all that often. It meant that Paige had to be the one to fish out her ID to present to the woman at the reception desk.
“We’re with the FBI,” she said, trying to sound as serious and businesslike as she could.
“That doesn’t stop you from buying something,” the woman replied. She nodded to Christopher. “We’re doing a special on cards at the moment. Two for one on some of the lines we’re discontinuing.”
Christopher looked momentarily tempted, but he shook his head. “We’re here to talk to someone who works here. Zane Caister.”
Paige saw the young woman frown slightly at the mention of that name, as if there were something about him that she didn’t like.
“Why do you want to talk to him?” she asked.
“We can’t divulge details of an ongoing investigation,” Christopher replied.
Paige was more interested in the face the young woman had made at the mention of Zane’s name.
“What’s your name?” she asked.
“Mari,” the young woman replied.
“Well, Mari, what is it that you dislike about Zane so much?” Paige asked.
“What makes you think that I dislike something about him?”
“The way you reacted to the mention of his name.” That part had been reflexive and seemingly automatic, the expression instant rather than something composed. She’d replaced it with a polite but helpful look a moment later, but it had been there.
Mari rolled her eyes. “Like I don’t get enough of that kind of thing from every wannabe mentalist who comes in. The number of them who try their subliminal programming bullshit to try to get me to go on a date with them… and they all think that they’re some great psychological genius.”
“Paige has a Ph.D. in criminal psychology, if that helps,” Christopher said, obviously not wanting her grouped together so casually with a bunch of stage performers. “And if she says that you reacted to Zane’s name, then I’m inclined to believe her.”
“All right,” Mari said, throwing up her hands. “What do you want to hear? That Zane creeps me out? That every time I walk past him, he looks my way, and I wonder if he’s plotting the best way to kill me?”
Actually, that was exactly the kind of thing Paige wanted to hear about. She wanted to know all about Zane Caister, and whether he was still capable of killing.
“Has he ever made any comments to that effect?” Paige asked. “Has he ever said or done anything to make you uncomfortable besides the staring?”