Now You See It... Part 34

"See here. Mister Delacorte," he said, "I'm not here on a social visit. My office gets a call, I drive out here and find your wife lying on me floor over there."

"You do?" said Max. He turned to Ca.s.sandra with a look of innocent curiosity. "Why were you lying on me floor, darling?" he asked.

"Where is he. Max?" she cried.

His tone was bland as he inquired, "Who's that, my dear?"

Her cheeks were whitening with rage- (Clearly, he was still exacting vengeance on her.) "Stop the stupid game, Max!" she demanded. "We're not playing! Where is he?"

"I think you'd better tell us. Mister Delacorte," the Sheriff added.

Max looked at him.

"Your wife claims you're the one who committed the murder," said Plum.

Max's expression became one of "hurt" bewilderment.

"What a dreadful thing to say/^he responded.

He looked at Ca.s.sandra, ducking with reproach.

"How awful," he said.

She looked at him with disbelief now.

"You asked him here to kill him," she said, a look of gen- uine pain on her face- "To kill him."

Max's mouth was opening to reply when Sheriff Plum said, "Let's get down to details now, shall we. Mister Dela- corte?"

He removed a pad and stubby pencil from me breast pocket of his shirt. Max looked at it approvingly.

"By all means!" he said; he actually sounded enthusias- tic. "I'm a detail man myself; always have been. Nothing to compare with details, is there? Without details-"

"Stop it," Ca.s.sandra cut him off, her voice low-pitched, almost murderous,

124 Richard MathMOH

Max looked at her, then made a casual noise which I in- terpreted as asking, "What on earth is bothering you, my dear?"

As the Sheriff began to question him. Max removed four playing cards from his left trouser pocket and started to perform a back-and-front palm with them. The sight made me uneasy as I recalled the difficulty he'd had with me bil- liard-ball replication earlier.

"This Mister-" Plum began.

"Kendal. Harry Kendal," Max provided, one of me play- ing cards between the thumb and forefinger of his right hand.

He made a slight downward movement, followed by an upward movement which allowed me card to fall across the back of his first, second and third fingers, the little finger rising to the edge of the card. (Despite my uneasiness, the magician in me was absorbed completely by his hands.)

Rapidly, his forefinger replaced the thumb, his fingers were extended, and the card vanished from the palm, all in me s.p.a.ce of a second. Seeing this, I felt a sense of relief for him.

"K-e-n-d-" Sheriff Plum was writing down the letters with laborious effort.

"-a-L" completed Max. "Kendal. Very good."

As he turned back his hand, he dosed his fingers into the palm and gripped the center of the card with his thumb, opening me four fingers outward until the card was gripped against the two middle fingers and vanished from the back of his hand as well. Good, Max, I thought automati- cally.

"What time did he get here?" the Sheriff asked.

Max was repeating the back-and-front palm, the cards appearing, disappearing, then appearing once again.

"Who's that?" he asked in a distracted voice-

"Don't let him do this to you, Sheriff," warned Ca.s.sandra.

U a.s.sandra's remark made Max almost drop the card.

He winced, then directed a forced smile at the Sheriff.

"Does this bother you?" he asked. "It's just a habit."

"I said, what time did Harry Kendal get here?" Plum re- peated the query. *

"Darling?" Max inquired sweetly. "You were here when he arrived. I was out walking, you recall."

As he spoke, he fanned the four cards with his right hand, then let them drop into his palm.

Ca.s.sandra regarded him balefully.

"Just past noon," she told the Sheriff.

"Thank you, precious," said Max, bringing up his right hand to his left as though to transfer the cards, then palm- ing them in his nght and closing his left as though they con- tained the cards.

"You murdering b.a.s.t.a.r.d." Ca.s.sandra glared at him. "If you think you're going to get away with this..."

Max made a sound of disapproval at her language, quickly grasping the comers of the cards with his right

126 Richard Matheson

thumb and bending them over so he could pa.s.s the hand,

fingers open, across the back of his left hand.

All of this took place in rapid order as the conversation

progressed; a skilled magician's feat.

"Why did he come to see you?" asked Plum.

"Well-" Max dropped his left hand casually, displayed

me empty left hand, men produced the card with a fan from