He cleared his throat, flashing his warrant. “I have a warrant to search your things.”

  She walked over to the bed, picked up the pile of silk and strings, then shoved them in her suitcase. “I tell you. Angry man, hissing and clenching fists”—she held up her hand, formed a fist, then she made a hissing sound— “he was in room.”

  “Yes, I remember.” Interesting, he thought, that Shana kept bringing that up, like that meant Brett was guilty and she was innocent. “I talked with this man. He saw a woman standing in a white nightgown at the door to the room.”

  “Magicians lie, Detective,” she said. “Make living from lies and tricks.”

  “But do their assistants tell the truth?” he asked.

  “The truth? I tell you angry man, hissing—”

  “Yes, I know. Angry man, hissing and clenching fists. I’m here to find a nightgown.” He noticed she took a word from his previous sentence, added a different meaning to it, and played innocent.

  She picked up a pile of silk. “This is what I wear at night.”

  “Yes, but what about when sleeping on a cool night?” he asked.

  “Detective.” She stepped close, almost seductively. “I am hot-blooded. Even on cold night, I sometime sleep naked.”

  He turned to hide the deepening crush of crimson surely filling his cheeks. Geez. More than he wanted to know. He took a breath. “Tell me about this book.”

  “Book?” She picked up a paperback. “Anna Karenina good book. You read it?”

  “No, I haven’t. I’m talking about Xavier’s book of magic tricks. Brett said he was here that night. He climbed through the window to steal that book of magic.”

  “Oh, book of magic. Brett not steal book of magic.”

  So Shana knew about the joke book, the crank, purposefully placed by Xavier’s bedside.

  “Did you know Xavier asked for extra security the night of the show?” Lucas asked.

  “Paranoid. All magicians scared and liars.” She paused, then said. “Xavier keep magic book in box. Locked box.” She pointed out the window. “In van.” Shana grabbed his hand, with more strength than he was prepared for. She twisted his wrist, exposing his palm, keeping a firm grip. Her fingers barely skimmed his hand. She traced the lines creasing the skin. He went to pull it away, but she held on tight. “Ah, Detective. You are good man. I want to help. I could tell you much about future.” She looked up at him. “I see trouble. Danger. Ah, I see love...”

  He yanked his hand away. “No, thanks.” He wasn’t thinking about love, or desiring love, or a relationship. His one concern was his job and Lexie. And lately, providing enough strong female role models.

  He was thrown off, uncomfortable. Shana had been completely successful in derailing this conversation. He wanted this to be over but also wanted to make the most of it. “What do you think of Octavian X?”

  “Octavian X. Magician. He lie too.”

  “Of course, of course, all magicians are liars. What can you tell me about their pranks on each other?”

  She continued picking up her clothes. After a minute, she stopped. “Funny at first, then get bad.” She pulled out her phone. “Look on phone. You find pranks.”

  “Some of them were caught on video?” he asked, but his thoughts went to the dinner with Minnie when she brought up his social media streams.

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  “Thank you.” He left her room. Time for the next one. He noticed it was down the hall. Far enough away that it would be harder to hear a cry. The door was closed so he knocked.

  Samantha opened it. “Yes?”

  He flashed the warrant. “I’ll need to search your room.”

  She stepped back inside. “What are you looking for? I can help.”

  “What do you wear to bed?” he asked, as he took in the room. It was the opposite of Shana’s. It was neat. It was spotless. Everything in its place. Clothes unpacked and in drawers. Bed, made.

  She flushed immediately. He realized he needed to back up. “I talked with Brett Banks.” He waited to see if she recognized the name. “Better known as Octavian X, the magician.”

  “Yes, I know him.”

  “What can you tell me about his relationship with Xavier?”

  “Shana and I didn’t see a lot of it. They were…friends.”

  “Why did you hesitate?”

  “They were friends but not really friends. They pretended to be friends but in the past year it had taken a turn for the worse. Stronger feelings behind their words. Some vicious pranks.”

  “Do you think Brett could kill Xavier?”

  “Yes.” She didn’t even hesitate.

  “Brett said he respected Xavier too much to kill him. That he would lose his muse, his reason to be a better magician.”

  “Maybe. That is a strange definition of respect, Detective. I would never pull the pranks or do the things these two have done, if there was a mutual respect.”

  “Brett said, the night of the murder, he saw someone in a nightgown standing at the door.”

  Samantha knew right away what he was asking, because she walked to a dresser and opened the top drawer. She pulled out shirts with matching pants in pink and lavender. Cotton pajamas. “I slept in nightgowns when I was young. I don’t like the way they twist and tangle around your legs in the night.”

  “What do you think of Brett taking Xavier’s place in two nights?”

  “I’m not surprised. That would be a dream come true for Brett. He’s already offered both of us a job working for him.” She hesitated, then said, “He is to inherit all of Xavier’s magic, the entire van of props, the magic book. All of it.”

  That news hit him hard in the chest. “Is it official? Like there is a will and lawyers?”

  Samantha shook her head. “I don’t think so. It was a magician’s shake of the hand. That was my impression. Something sacred between the two of them. Like blood brothers.”

  “Are you going to take him up on the offer?” he asked.

  “I don’t think so. It’s time for me to go home, I think.”

  “What about your relationship with your father?” he asked, wondering what Samantha would offer up without him asking.

  “My father?” she asked, voice rising, almost accusing.

  “Yes, your father.”

  For the first time, Samantha seemed rattled. “I suppose you know. That my father had been an early investor in Xavier. Back then, it wasn’t magic, but my father saw something worthwhile in him. Xavier had drive to succeed. My father knew that meant something.”

  “What happened?”

  Samantha was puzzled, her brows lowered, like she was thinking what he could possibly mean. “My father didn’t want Xavier to go in the direction of magic, so he gave Xavier a last gift of money and then pulled away.”

  That didn’t sound like what he’d heard so far. There was no hint of her father being conned or tricked out of his money. “They parted amicably?”

  “I suppose so. Xavier was upset, but thankfully, he was still willing to hire me.”

  “Why did you want to go with him?”

  “To see the world. Travel. Everything I had read in books and seen in photographs. Xavier promised that.”

  “Your father didn’t mind?”

  Samantha shrugged. For the first time, Lucas saw a flicker of something stronger, a spark that so far she had kept hidden. “My father…was a bit controlling. I wanted to leave.”

  Lucas had a feeling there was a much longer, more complicated story there, but what bothered him was that her take was very different from what he’d been told. It sounded like Xavier and her father left on good terms. That it wasn’t so much being conned out of his money, but that the father withdrew financial support. If anything, Xavier had more of a reason to be upset.

  That left Samantha with little motive to want Xavier dead.

  It left Shana as the one who lied.

  “Shana said that Xavier tricked your father out of money.”

  Samantha smiled. “Of course, she did. Her lack of comprehension is appalling. She puts on a good show, but when I told her the story, the real meaning was lost in translation.”

  “You’re more than welcome to stay, but I’ll still need to search the room.”

  “I’ll leave.”

  When Samantha was at the door, Lucas asked, “Do you have your father’s contact information?”

  Sadly, Samantha shook her head. “We haven’t talked. It’s been years.”

  Maybe that was something he could task to Officer Rob, except his gut told him that was not where he’d find the answers he needed.

  He spent the next twenty minutes looking for a white nightgown, but he had a feeling he wouldn’t find one.

  Then, he happened to look out the window.

  He saw Xavier’s van, the back doors flung open. He saw Belle and Bixby scurrying about at the border of the yard, searching the brush. There was something frantic about their movements.

  The upcoming questions with them would be interesting, but then he received a call. Needed at the office. Later, he thought. He also wouldn’t mind knowing if Samantha and Shana had shared any of this new information with Belle, or maybe something entirely different.

  That night, he spent what felt like hours watching video after video.

  Shana hinted the pranks grew worse over time. That he should look at them. There were lots. That meant there must be a specific one she meant for him to find.

  He kept at it.

  He brought Lexie more water, he tucked her in again, he told her a story, then he went right back to it. Video after video.

  His eyes grew glassy. He might have dozed off staring at the screen.

  Until everything changed. Until he found the right one.

  He jerked up straight, from sitting to standing.

  He watched it again and again.

  Chapter Eleven

  It was the big day. Forsythia expected the Charitable Women’s Organization to attack decorating like soldiers, do their duty, and do it with enthusiasm. It was the day Belle slept past her alarm. Not even the squawking of Sir Jack woke her from dreams.

  No, it was the banging on the door.

  She bolted up in bed, quickly dressed, and stumbled to the front door, eyes still bleary with sleep. “Who is it?”

  “Lucas.” Then he said, “Is everything okay? I come with breakfast.”

  She opened the door to his smiling, handsome face. Yes, she looked like she just woke up, but she liked that she was okay with that. “Well, then, you should have let me know that in the first place. Breakfast means automatic entrance.”

  “Breakfast!” screeched Sir Jack.

  As Belle led him into the kitchen, she stopped at the cage. “Yes, you’ll get breakfast soon, my lovely, Sir Jack.”

  “Lovely. That lovely.”

  “What happened to Jack Sparrow?” Lucas asked, once in the kitchen.

  “He said he wasn’t a sparrow.” She set out plates and flipped on the coffee.

  “Smart bird. Maybe he should come work for the police.”

  “Don’t joke. He’ll hear you. For days, he’ll keep reminding you of it.”

  Lucas opened the bag. Like pulling a rabbit from a hat, he brought out egg sandwiches wrapped in tinfoil, two clementines, and muffins.

  Belle blinked and rubbed her eyes. “I do believe this is homemade.” She eyed suspiciously. “Is it?”

  She was joking with him. That was her go-to reaction when someone made the effort, the thoughtful decision, to make her breakfast. To do something nice. She wasn’t used to that, so this moved her in ways she couldn’t explain. It was always the small things that got to her.

  “Sure is. I woke up before the crack of dawn so Lexie could have something other than cereal. I figured why not?”

  “And”—now her look of suspicion was justified—“you needed a reason to stop by.”

  His hands went up. “You caught me, Detective. So how are you feeling? Headache? Any other symptoms? I promise if all is okay this is the last time I ask.”

  “All okay, promise,” she said, assuming there were other reasons, too. She waited, eyebrow raised.

  He huffed. “Fine. A couple things. The more I research these two magicians, the more ominous the murder mystery event becomes tomorrow night.” He fell silent, brooding. Belle gave him time to find his words.

  The coffeepot stopped gurgling, spitting out the last of it, so she poured two cups. “I ran out of the chocolate raspberry creamer Bixby made me.”

  “Hmm.” Finally, he said, “I have this bad feeling. I’m wondering if…Lexie should stay home tomorrow evening.”

  “You know she would be devastated, right?” she asked.

  “Yes,” he said, miserably. “But I would never forgive myself if anything happened.”

  Belle didn’t know what it felt like to be in charge of someone, for their safety, well-being, and happiness. Never mind the pressure that comes with that. Especially for a detective who’s more protective by nature. Especially in his situation where he became guardian of Lexie only a couple years ago. “Life is risk though. You can’t keep her locked in her room for the next ten years as she becomes a teenager.”

  “I can try.” He deflated. “No, I know that. But there’s something dark, almost twisted, to the story between Xavier and Octavian. Really, all of them. I don’t think any of them are telling the full story.”

  “Wouldn’t the danger be over since one of them has died?”

  “It should be, but there’s a lot of lingering emotion and loose ends.” He pulled out his phone, then pushed play.

  Belle watched; it was Octavian X, in full costume and makeup. He looked truly transformed. Different, but similar to Xavier the Astonishing. He was walking, striding; no, storming off stage. He was a black thunderhead. With the makeup and the murderous look in his eyes, he came across as downright evil. “Wow,” she whispered.

  “Just wait.”

  “What happened out there?” It was Samantha on the video. She seemed to be the one recording. She sounded innocent, curious.

  “You know damn well what happened.” Octavian’s eyes narrowed, his mouth twisted in a cruel smirk, he hissed at the phone. “You went too far. You can put this on your live stream. One of these days, you’re going to fall asleep and never wake up.”

  The video cut off.

  Belle gasped. “Whoa. That was…that was bad.”

  “Right? I don’t know what prank happened on stage. Maybe faulty equipment, but it was enough to create a murderous rage in Octavian.”

  “Xavier made it worse by sending Samantha to record the reaction.”

  “Then posting it to his social media.”

  They sat in silence, feeling the effects of the video. Belle understood his somber feeling toward the upcoming event. After seeing that video, it didn’t feel right, Brett taking over. Like he was the great magician behind it all, the puppet master controlling events to bring him out on top. And yet, ironically, she had recommended Brett to Forsythia.

  Would he be willing to murder? Did he follow through on his threat?

  “Listen, I know you’ll see Samantha and Shana today. Want to do a little detective work?”

  “Are you serious?” she squealed, then grew serious. “I mean, of course. How can I be of service, Detective?”

  He laughed. “Don’t worry. It’s nothing too risky. I assume Brett, Shana, and Samantha will be there setting up while all of you are decorating. The show is in Forsythia’s backyard, right?”

  “Yes, but she wants new decor, different from the welcome breakfast.”

  “See if Samantha has anything to say about that video. Get her reaction. Maybe figure out how much English Shana does or doesn’t understand. She’s been good at evading questions about herself and casting guilt on others. Then there’s the nightgown.”

  “Right, the ghost Brett claimed to see. Did you search their rooms?” Belle thought back on the other mystery she needed to solve today: the missing snake. When they were combing the woods and the yard for Betty, Lucas must have been inside hunting for the nightgown.

  “I combed through their rooms. Neither of them had a white nightgown, but it could easily have been stashed somewhere. Maybe…you could casually, expertly, bring up nightwear. See if Forsythia owns a white nightgown.”

  She almost choked on the clementine. “Are you serious?”

  “Kind of.”

  “Forsythia isn’t even a suspect, is she?”

  “Not really. I’m grasping at straws, the paper kind that are going soggy. I’ve looked through the statements of the other guests at the welcome breakfast. None of them seem to have motive; nobody knew him personally. There’s a couple that Officer Rob is following through on.”

  Belle loved that he wasn’t so proud of his title, so wrapped up in being a detective, that he felt he had to know everything all the time, that he couldn’t admit frustration with a case.

  “But I saw something rather interesting,” Lucas said, smirking.

  Oh, no, Belle thought. “Oh, really. And what was that?”

  “You and Bixby frantically searching the edge of the woods.”

  He didn’t have to ask what. He didn’t have to pose the question; it was there in the way he left off, in the look on his face, amused but serious.

  “Okay, fine. We led Brett out to the van. Forsythia had the key. He’s going to replace Xavier but he needs to use Xavier’s magical stuff. And…the snake was missing.”

  “The snake?”

  “Yes, I guess it’s for one of his magic acts. Brett thinks it’s a coral snake, but there’s no way any magician would keep a real venomous snake in their show. They can’t be trained. It has to be a scarlet king snake. Same red, black, and white bands. Non-poisonous.”

  “But you don’t know that for sure?” Lucas asked.

  “I’ll talk to Samantha or Shana about it, but there’s no way.” She had a feeling this would determine whether or not Lexie got to see the magic show. Only something she’d been counting on now for days. “You know, I don’t have a big role in the murder mystery since I was added at the last minute, so Lexie could stick with me the whole night, while you do your detective thing. We’ll watch the show. We’ll enjoy the murder mystery. It’ll be fine. I promise.”