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A frenetic giggle pulled back her lips as she yawed the
Now You Sw tt... 165
casket around the guillotine, turning so fast that it "did a
wheelie," as they say.
"d.a.m.n it!" cried the Sheriff.
He put on a burst of speed and managed to catch up to
her/ forcing her to stop.
Immediately, she backed off, panting.
Plum attempted to pry the spearhead under the lid.
Max's pounding was weaker now. He sobbed with
dread.
"Get me out of here!" he begged. "For Christ's sake, get me out of here!"
The gla.s.s plate, I could see now, was completely steamed up by his breath.
"d.a.m.n!" Plum was grimacing angrily. He couldn't seem to force the spear in to open the lid.
I wanted to dose my eyes. The sight was unnerving me;
and my nerves were half dead, remember.
Plum struggled harder. Finally, he forced me point in and -started pulling down on the shaft.
Which promptly broke.
"Oh," Ca.s.sandra said, her tone nine steps below sincer- ity. "Drat."
She smiled benignly at the casket. "Sorry, Max," she said.
"You b.i.t.c.h!" he shrieked.
Ca.s.sandra ducked and shook her head. "How disparag- ing/" she said, leaning across the casket as Sheriff Plum ran back toward the fireplace.
"Now you'll pay for killing Harry," she said. "Whether we find him or not."
"d.a.m.n you!" cried my son/ his voice sounding faint.
The Sheriff s.n.a.t.c.hed the Spanish pike from the trophy board and started running back, gasping for breath.
"He's going to try me pike now/ Max/" Ca.s.sandra told my son. "If that doesn't work/ well send out for some dyna- mite."
166 Richard Matbeui
"Look out," said Plum.
Ca.s.sandra jumped aside as the Sheriff reached the casket, brandishing the pike to drive it at the casket lock.
"Avaunt!" cried Max.
My heart jumped (it was nice to have something mat could Jump) as me casket side sprang open and my son stood up/ arms raised to halt the Sheriff's move.
"Don't do it!" he ordered.
They stared at him in shock; while my body considered indulging in a second stroke.
Max gestured toward me casket.
"It is, of course/ an apparatus," he confessed. "An inte- rior release making possible solid-through-solid penetra- tion."
He looked at Ca.s.sandra darkly.
"Although mis person didn't know that/' he said- He looked over at me. "Had the apparatus built by Need- lebaum," he told me. "He's still the best, at eighty-four."
His expression softened as he saw (or sensed) my dis- tress. He came over to me.
"I know, I've made you suffer again," he said. "I regret that. Padre, but I wanted you to see these things and not be shut away from them. This is still your home."
He laid his hand on my right shoulder and squeezed it.
Dear, oh, dear, my muddled brain remarked. My emotions were dangling at me end of a yo-yo, moving up and down, out and in, in circles, winging, spinning, penduluming.
Turning, Max went back to Ca.s.sandra and Plum. (Good name for a vaudeville team, it occurred to me.) They stared at him, still-I took it-recovering from the shock of his un- expected appearance- He chuckled at their expressions.
"Now I ask you," he said. "Would I have a real casket in my father's home? Do I strike you as the morbid type?"
He addressed the Sheriff.
Now You See It- 167
"As you know," he said, "-or maybe not-a magician always provides an alternative ending to an illusion in the event something goes wrong."
Again, the icy look at Ca.s.sandra.
"Like some person slamming down the lid of one's casket, locking one inside with me key."
He smiled at her, the smile as icily malignant as the look had been.
"Well, it was worth it," he declared. "Now I know ex- actly where your head is at."
He made a sound of derisive amus.e.m.e.nt.
"Even if you don't know where Harry's is at," he said.
The Sheriff finally found his voice; the casket effect seemed to have rendered him temporarily speechless.