“Force is too strong a word,” she said.
“Okay,” I said.
“He’s going to be dead, but he isn’t going to be dead, but he is going to be dead,” she said, looking at me.
“What?”
“Soon,” she said. “And the other guy. In what my first husband used to call a penguin suit.”
“Tuxedo,” I said.
“Whatever,” she said with a dismissive wave of her heavily ringed and scarlet-nailed hand. “He’s here. Darkness. Light. He’s there. Darkness. Light. He’s back over here again. You’ll see. You’ll be there. Lots of penguins. You’re a penguin, too.”
“Very helpful.”
“My pleasure,” she said. “No, my duty. Got no choice in the matter. I was heading to Manny’s for a taco. I’ll buy you one.”
“Just ate a couple, thanks,” I said.
“Suit yourself,” said Juanita. “Just watch out for that dead penguin.”
“Thanks,” I said.
Juanita took a few steps toward Manny’s and then turned around suddenly.
“Don’t wait for the pain,” she said earnestly.
“What pain?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “But you’ll have warnings. You won’t listen to them, but you’ll have warnings.”
“If I won’t listen to them,” I said, “why tell me not to wait for the pain?”
“You think I know?” she said with a shrug and a shake of her head. “I see it. I tell you. It happens. I’m a seer, not a magician.”
“I know a magician,” I said. “Maybe he can help me.”
“You’re kiddin’ me Toby,” she said, “but, kiddin’ aside, your magician’s got his own worries, let me tell you. I’m hungry like an ox.”
This time she did move toward Manny’s. I considered calling after her to be careful of pebbles in her taco, but decided she might think I was making fun of her.
I headed for the car and was at County Hospital about twelve minutes later.
Blackstone was standing next to Gwen’s bed when I went through the door of her room. He was wearing a blue suit with a red bow tie. She was laughing. He was smiling. He held a rabbit in his hand. He handed it to her and she looked up at me.
“Look,” she said, cuddling the white ball of nose-twitching fluff. “He’s mine. He pulled him right out from under my pillow.”
“We haven’t given him a name yet,” said Blackstone.
“I’ll call him Tyrone,” Gwen said. “After Tyrone Power.”
She was sitting up, a little pale, but not the least like someone who had been shot the night before. She stroked the animal and rubbed her nose against his.
“We’ve been talking about what happened last night,” Black-stone said. “Very curious.”
“Very curious,” I agreed.
The magician pursed his lips and looked at his hands before he said,
“The killer of Mr. Cunningham used a 9mm weapon, correct?”
“Correct,” I said.
“But Gwen was shot at close range with a pellet gun,” he went on. “As were you.”
“Yes,” I said.
“Which suggests that the killer switched guns and chose one unlikely to kill Gwen,” he said.
“Or,” I said, “there were two shooters.”
“Working together?” he asked.
“Could be. Another thought,” I threw in. “Our shooter only wanted to make it look like he was trying to kill the witness. He shot Gwen because it made sense to go for the one person who could identify him.”
“But he didn’t want to kill her,” said Blackstone. “Suggesting that he wanted her alive to identify him. But why would he want to be …”
“You got it?”
“Got what?” Gwen asked looking up from the rabbit.
“Describe the man who shot you again,” I said. “Was it the same man you saw shoot Cunningham in the dressing room?”
“Yes,” she said. “Well, I think so. Tux, beard, turban.”
“That’s what you told the police?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“And you saw him shoot Cunningham?” I asked. “You’re sure.”
“No,” said Gwen. “I was on the landing. I heard a shot. I saw him come out of the dressing room.”
“With a gun in his hand?”
“Yes, no. I think so,” she said. “I turned and ran.”
“Calvin Ott?” said Blackstone.
“But Ott couldn’t have been the one who shot Gwen. He was at the Pantages talking to the police when Gwen was shot,” I said.
“True. He made a scene,” Blackstone said. “There was something definitely theatrical about it, but then again Ott is always theatrical.”
“He wanted to establish an alibi while someone else was shooting Gwen,” I said.
“But he still could have been the one who shot Cunningham in the dressing room,” Blackstone said.
“Okay,” I tried. “He shoots Cunningham. There’s Gwen. He’s out in the open now. Gwen runs. He follows. She runs out of the theater. He sends someone after her and goes into the theater to set up an alibi for when she gets shot by someone wearing the beard and turban.”
“Assuming the police would decide that the person who shot Cunningham would also be the person who shot Gwen,” said Blackstone.
“That’s about it,” I said. “That’s why the pellet gun. Whoever shot Gwen wasn’t trying to kill her. He was helping Ott set up an alibi.”
“Maybe,” said Blackstone.
“Maybe,” I repeated.
“That’s all very comforting,” said Gwen, petting the rabbit and blowing gently on his ear. The ear twitched. So did the rabbit’s pink nose.
“It’s possible,” said Blackstone. “But there’s still something missing.”
“There always is,” I said. “I’d like to talk to your crew before tonight.”
“We’re going over the act this afternoon, around two,” he said.
“I’ll be there.”
Chapter 10
Tell a person she or he will be hypnotized. Make a fist with your right and left hands. Put your fists on top of each other. Have the person looking into your eyes. Tell them they are hypnotized. Ask them to grab you by the wrists and pull your hands apart. They can’t. Solution: When the person is looking into your eyes, move the thumb from your lower hand into the palm of your upper and grasp tightly. The bond is tight. The person will not be able to separate your hands. As the person loses eye contact with you, remove your thumb quickly, make fist and separate your hands showing that they are empty.
