PROLOGUE
2020
For her fifth birthday, Robin Lockwood received a magic kit with one hundred easy-to-learn tricks and proceeded to “astonish” her parents and brothers whenever she could trap them. After that, she was hooked, and she begged to see celebrated magicians whenever they appeared on television. Tonight, one of her clients was going to debut the Chamber of Death, his greatest illusion, in front of a packed house in the Imperial Theater.
Robin had a personal interest in seeing Robert Chesterfield perform this illusion. Several years ago, she had been present at Lord Chesterfield’s seaside mansion when the dress rehearsal of the trick had ended in a truly bizarre manner. She hoped that she would see the finished product tonight.
The lights dimmed and Robin focused on the stage, determined to figure out how the seemingly impossible trick was done. Three women in hooded robes pushed a sarcophagus down the aisle and onto the stage, and Lord Chesterfield, dressed like an Egyptian high priest, was locked inside. Two of the magician’s assistants lifted handfuls of poisonous snakes and scorpions out of glass cages and fed them into the coffin. Robin knew what wasgoing to happen next, but she still tensed when hideous screams issued from the coffin and Chesterfield begged to be released from his prison. Then the screams stopped and eerie music floated through the theater. One of Chesterfield’s assistants unlocked the padlocks that secured the lid of the sarcophagus and raised it.
Robin expected Chesterfield to have vanished from the coffin, only to miraculously appear in the back of the theater, but that didn’t happen. One of the magician’s assistants looked in the coffin. Then she screamed. Moments later, everyone in the theater knew that there was a dead man in the sarcophagus.
What Robin couldn’t figure out was how the man had been murdered in front of three thousand people without anyone knowing who had killed him.
PART ONE
THE CHAMBER OF DEATH
2017
CHAPTER ONE
On a Monday morning in March of 2017, Robin Lockwood rose before the sun and ran the five miles from her apartment to McGill’s gym.
For years, the Pearl had been a decaying warehouse district. Then the developers invaded and expensive condos, boutiques, art galleries, and trendy restaurants sprang up like mushrooms after a heavy rain. The old brick building in which McGill’s gym was housed was one of the few places that had evaded the agents of gentrification.
Barry McGill, the gym’s owner, had been a top ten middleweight many moons and pounds ago, and his idea of what a gym was supposed to be had gone out of fashion about the same time he started ballooning up to heavyweight. McGill’s wasn’t air-conditioned, it stank from sweat, and it didn’t have a pool or spa. That turned off the millennials and young professionals who worked out so they would look good in the Pearl’s singles bars, but it did attract professional boxers and mixed martial arts combatants, masochistic weight lifters, and serious bodybuilders. Anyone wearing spandex need not apply. Robin fit right in.
Robin had been the first girl in her state to place in a boys’ high school wrestling championship. She didn’t try out for the wrestling team in college, because her university fielded a top NCAA Division I squad, but there was a gym near the school that taught mixed martial arts. By Robin’s first semester at Yale Law School, she was ranked ninth in the UFC in her weight class and her fans sang the old rock and roll song “Rockin’ Robin” when she walked into the octagon.
Robin’s UFC career ended shortly after law school started. Mandy Kerrigan, a top contender, had a fight scheduled on a pay-per-view card in Las Vegas. When her opponent was injured a week before the fight, Robin was asked to fill in. Robin saw the fight as a chance for fame and glory. Her manager told her it was a huge mistake. Robin admitted he had been right, as soon as she regained consciousness. Short-term memory loss convinced her that it was time to stop fighting, but she still loved to work out.
Barry McGill was a crusty old bastard, but he had a soft spot for Robin. “Your gal pal, Martinez, is over by the weights,” he called out when he spotted her heading for the locker room. “Think you two girls can stop gabbing long enough to work up a sweat?”
“Let usgirlsknow when you’re ready to go a few rounds, Barry, and I’ll put the EMTs on notice,” Robin shot back. “They have a special rate for AARP members.”
McGill chuckled and Robin gave him the finger.
After she changed into her workout gear, Robin joined Sally Martinez, who was doing curls in front of a floor-to-ceiling mirror. Martinez was a CPA who had won all-American honors wrestling for Pacific University and had trained in mixed martial arts. Sally and Robin sparred together occasionally, but Sally usually worked out in the evening.
“What are you doing here so early?”
“Tax season. I’ve got to get my workouts in while I can.”
Robin and Sally were a study in contrasts. Robin was five eight with a wiry build; a midwesterner with blond hair and blue eyes that proclaimed her Nordic ancestry. Sally’s brown skin and straight black hair were clues that her parents had emigrated from Mexico. She was shorter than Robin but more muscular.
After Robin warmed up, they walked over to the mats and began circling each other. Robin saw an opening and snapped a front kick. Sally slipped past it, grabbed Robin’s ankle, kicked her other leg out from under her, and put Robin in a submission hold.
Robin tapped out and they got to their feet. Sally shot a double leg tackle and threw Robin to the mat. They scrambled for a few seconds before Sally wrapped her legs around Robin’s waist in a figure four and put her in a choke hold.
“You’re slow as molasses this morning,” Sally said when they were standing again.
“A case kept me tossing and turning all night,” Robin answered.
“You sure it wasn’t Jeff?”
Robin blushed. When Sally laughed, Robin took her down with a single leg tackle.
“Hey, that’s cheating,” Sally complained.