Stuart Kaminsky: Now You See It

“Shelly fixed it,” I said.

“Fixed …” asked Jeremy.

“My tooth,” I said, opening my mouth and pointing.

No one looked.

“It’s perfect,” I said. “If you’ve got a very broad definition of ‘perfect.’”

“Once in a lifetime,” said Alice.

“Did you know there was once-and only once-a perfectly symmetrical major league baseball game?” asked Jeremy.

I knew Jeremy had played baseball when he was about forty years younger. He’d been a first baseman. He had even read me a couple of poems he’d written about the game.

“No, I didn’t,” I said.

“I was there,” said Jeremy. “Some called it a miracle. August 13, 1910, the Pirates and Dodgers played an 8–8 tie. Each team had 38 at bats, 13 hits, 12 assists, 5 strikeouts, 3 walks, 2 errors, 1 hit batsman, and 1 passed ball.”

“A tie?”

“Darkness,” said Jeremy. “God or the Fates chose that day and that game and said ‘it shall end in a perfect tie.’”

“Amen,” I said.

“And like so many miracles,” Jeremy went on. “No one watching was aware of it till the next day when someone looked at the statistics.”

“I saw a miracle once,” said Jimmy Clark. “Back home in Decatur. We were …”

He was interrupted by the arrival of the Bouton brothers. Pete, wearing a gray sports jacket and no tie, beckoned to Jimmy who said, “Excuse me” and moved toward the brothers who had paused at the door.

Harry was wearing a dark suit and a white turtleneck sweater. No tux. After I introduced him to Alice, he moved to the platform against the wall with Pete, who was carrying a black satchel very much like the one filled with money that Ott had shown us.

“Who’s watching Natasha?” I asked while Harry took the satchel, placed it on the table, and looked inside, checking whatever it was he needed.

“Violet for a while,” said Alice, her eyes on the activity.

Pete pointed to the curtain near the door and spoke to Jimmy. We couldn’t hear what they were saying, but Jimmy nodded.

Gunther and Shelly arrived together. Gunther, as usual, had dressed for the occasion, in a suit, vest, and perfectly Windsor-knotted tie. Shelly, in a yellow sweater bunched awkwardly at the waist, wore a grin as large as his biggest cigar.

“How’s my patient?” he asked, coming up to me and adjusting his glasses for a better look.

“Fine,” I said.

“Open,” Shelly said.

“I’m fine,” I repeated.

“Open, open,” he said, head tilted to one side.

I opened my mouth, hoping he wouldn’t put his fingers inside. He leaned forward and peered.

“Yep,” he said, backing away and actually rubbing his hands together. “Yep. You tell them?”

“I told them,” I said.

“Yep,” Shelly repeated.

“You wish us to go where we were when Calvin Ott was murdered?” Gunther asked.

“Yep,” I said.

“Toby, tell Blackstone,” said Shelly as Gunther guided him away. “About your tooth.”

Phil went through the door to the kitchen. Harry, Peter, and Jimmy bustled. Magicians, dressed as somberly as they thought the occasion required, began to arrive at the open door.

Alice and Jeremy, as we had arranged, had the job of preventing them from entering. Unless they could levitate, which a few of them did indeed claim, they would not get by the Butlers.

Phil came out of the kitchen and looked at Harry, who was adjusting his tie, hands folded in front of him.

A minute or two passed and the magicians in the hall had started to grow restless. I moved between Jeremy and Alice and announced that we were waiting for a special guest who would be here in a minute or two.

They grumbled. The magicians in Ott’s circle were all there. Leo Benz hunched down, hoping Phil and I wouldn’t see him.

From the rear of the pack, someone began making his way forward, apologizing as he came. Their backs were turned to him, so there was no recognition till Cornel Wilde was at the ballroom door, shaking my hand and smiling.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said.

“I’m Alice Pallas Butler,” Alice said with what could almost have passed as a shy smile.

Wilde took her hand and said, “A pleasure to meet you.”

Alice stepped back and looked at Jeremy with a wider smile.

“You want me to …?” Wilde said.

“Just stand here as we let them in one at a time,” I said. “We told them we had a guest. You’re it. You can shake their hands to get a good look.”

Wilde nodded and Phil told Jeremy and Alice to let the magicians in one at a time. Wilde smiled with very white teeth as they moved past him. He held a few of the hands longer than others, didn’t seem to look at them, and let each person pass.

Phil and I watched Wilde for a sign of recognition, something to show that he had spotted the person who had been with Melvin Rand at Columbia.

They filed in, and, at the urging of Gunther and Shelly took their seats, looking up at Blackstone, who smiled like a man who had a secret.

When everyone was seated, I glanced toward Wilde. He shook his head, indicating that the person we were looking for hadn’t come through the door.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“Eliminates a room full of people,” said Phil, eyes scanning the crowd.

“If it’s alright with you,” said Wilde. “I’ll just stand by the door.”

Phil nodded, and Wilde moved to the door next to Alice and Jeremy. The room was full. I motioned to the Butlers, who started to close the door. John Cawelti held up his hand and entered just as the doors were closing. He looked around, saw Phil and me and did a cross between a sneer and a smirk. Then he moved to the back wall, not far from Wilde, leaned against it and crossed his arms.

Pete Bouton sat at a table near the door. Jimmy wasn’t anywhere in sight. I knew he was behind the curtain, where he had been the night Ott was murdered.

“Gentlemen and lady,” Blackstone said, closing his eyes and dipping his head toward Alice. “This will not take long. I begin with a statement. I did not kill Calvin Ott, but I know how he was killed. If any of you would prefer to be the one to explain how it was done, I will relinquish the podium to you.”

He looked around the room. Magicians looked at each other. No one raised a hand.

“Very good,” said Blackstone. “Now if Mr. Peters will step up here.”

I wasn’t prepared for this. The last time I had been part of Blackstone’s act, I had almost been sliced in half wearing a chocolate soldier uniform. I moved to the podium.

“Mr. Peters shall play me,” said Blackstone, positioning me where he had stood when Ott had died. “And I shall play the late Calvin Ott.”

Blackstone moved to the table and sat where Ott had sat, with the black satchel now on the floor beside him.

“Question,” said Blackstone. “Why did Calvin Ott arrange a testimonial dinner in my honor? He’d never made any attempt to hide his jealousy. He said he had a surprise. But, obviously, this surprise was designed to embarrass me and to bring him applause. But what could it be?”

Blackstone’s hands were now folded.

I stood a few feet away from Blackstone, watching him.

“Ah,” he said. “I have it.”

The lights went out.

Someone gasped. The lights came back on.

Blackstone was slumped over, face on the table, knife sticking out of his neck.

“There he goes,” Pete Bouton shouted. “He killed my brother!”

The ballroom door was open. Someone ran out. Pete ran for the door shouting, “Don’t let him get away!”

People started to rise. Pete stopped at the door, turned, and held up a hand to keep the first pursuers from exiting.

I took four quick steps to Blackstone, who suddenly sat up and said, “The illusion is complete. Please return to your seats.”