Crystals of icy dread began to a.s.sail my inner warmth.
This had been the opening speech of his act (virtually the opening speech of my act, too) for fourteen years.
At the conclusion of which (as he did now), he tossed up a cloud of golden dust which crackled brilliantly, men van- ished into thin air.
Plum had twitched at this- He stared at Max, mouth open.
Max swept off his top hat, bowing regally.
"I do not believe we"ve met, sir," he observed.
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Plum was speechless. So was I. (Well, I always was.) I could not escape a chilling premonition that Max had truly gone insane. Under all the circ.u.mstances, wasn"t it a possi- bility?
Max tilted his head inquisitively toward the Sheriff.
"Sir?" he said.
Plum swallowed quickly, clearing his throat. "Grover Plum," he said. "Sheriff, Medfield County."
"Well, Sheriff, Medfield County," Max replied. "So good to meet you."
His expression became that of a man savoring some new, delightful knowledge.
"Grover Plum," he said. "How musical a name."
He beamed. "I am/ of course, Maximilian Delacorte, known professionally as The Great... Delacorte."
He confused me further by gesturing expansively in my direction, adding, "And mis, of course, is my beloved fa- ther, the original Great Delacorte, a magician of worldwide distinction and renown."
"I... met him," mumbled Pluih.
"Glad to hear it. Sheriff," Max responded.
Offhandedly, he gestured toward Ca.s.sandra, who was looking toward him with a dark, despising disdain. (How"s mat for alliteration?)
"You"ve already met Miss Crane," he said.
"Who?" the Sheriff asked.
Max pointed at Ca.s.sandra as though at me target for a firing squad. "That woman," he said. "Her maiden name was Crane."
His cheeks puffed outward noticeably as he made a sound of sardonic amus.e.m.e.nt.
"Maiden," he said, "a t.i.tle nonapplicable to her for many decades."
Ca.s.sandra tightened and began to speak. He cut her off.
"What brings you here so soon?" Max asked me Sheriff.
122 ftichani Mathacon .
"It was you who telephoned my office, then," said Plum.
"Of course," said Max. "I didn"t expect you so promptly though."
"I"m not surprised," the Sheriff said, "since you didn"t mention murder in your call."
Max"s smile was evanescent. "No, I didn"t," he admitted.
"Why did you kill him. Max?" Ca.s.sandra asked.
He did not reply. Reshutting the suit of armor with care, he strode to the bar, placed his top hat on its surface and gave the chilling bottle of Dom Perignon a few quick turns between his palms.
"Champagne, Sheriff?" he offered.
"I hardly think this is me time for champagne," re- sponded Plum.
"Oh. Too bad," said Max.
He glanced at Ca.s.sandra. "My dear?" he asked. His tone became cajoling. "Your favorite brand."
"I don"t drink to murder," she"told him in a throaty, ma- lignant voice.
He smiled. "Too bad," he said again. "Not the comment though. That was very good." He pointed at her with ap- proval- "Telling."
"Mister Delacorte-" Plum started.
"We"ll have the champagne later, then," Max said.
"When we"re ready."
"Mister Delacorte-" Plum began again.
"Perhaps with"caviar," Max said. "Oh, I"m sorry. Sheriff.
Did I interrupt you?"
"I"d like to remind you-" said the Sheriff.
"Uno momenta/" Max broke in.
Moving briskly to the Egyptian burial case, he shut the lid, then turned back with a smile-
"Uke to keep a tidy household," he said cheerfully.
Max, whit is going on in your mind?! I thought in deep dis- tress.
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The Sheriff had begun to bristle now.