closed in on them. 'He's trying to cover his tracks. But he's not a pro. He's screwing things up.'
'You mean, we're screwing things up for him.' Orchid studied the garish lights of the Icy Dicey up ahead. 'This could be a little awkward if Crowder was right about Mr. Amazing's between show activities. Be sure you knock first.'
'Afraid of seeing Mr. Amazing without his stage costume?'
Orchid thought about the overstuffed crotch of the magician's sparkling suit. 'Let's just say that I wouldn't want to be disillusioned.'
Rafe led the way into the alley beside the casino. Orchid followed, relieved to see that the narrow passage was not completely dark. A weak jelly-ice bulb glowing above a door kept some of the shadows at bay.
There was no one guarding the stage door entrance. Orchid concluded that Mr. Amazing was not overly troubled with eager fans. When Rafe turned the knob, it twisted easily in his hand.
She followed him into a dimly tit hall that stank of stale sweat and old booze. The muffled music of a torch singer could be heard through the wall together with the distant racket of gaming machines.
Rafe came to a halt in front of a closed door decorated with a sadly faded star.
He paused for a moment. Orchid sensed a fleeting pulse of familiar psychic energy, but Rafe did not seek a focus link. The small surge of talent vanished quickly. To Orchid's surprise, a new wave of battle-ready tension suddenly vibrated in the air around Rafe.
'Damn.' He reached into his pocket, pulled out a pair of thin leather gloves and tugged them onto his strong hands.
'Why are you—?'
'Here, put these on, Ms. Private Investigator.' He slapped a pair of thin plastic gloves into her palm.
They were not sexy leather gloves like his own, Orchid noticed. They were the kind of cheap, disposable gloves used in food preparation work. She made a note to buy herself some more stylish gloves at the earliest opportunity.
'I'll go in first,' Rafe said quietly. 'Wait here.'
'You're always telling me to wait. How am I ever going to learn if I'm always kept waiting around in the hall?'
'Trust me on this. You don't want to go in first.'
He was right, she thought. She did not have the vaguest idea of what she would do if she suddenly came face to face with Mr. Amazing.
Rafe did not knock on Mr. Amazing's door. He opened it and went in very fast. Orchid noticed that no light spilled from the small room. There was no feminine shriek of surprise. No masculine yell of outrage. The room was empty.
Orchid realized she had been holding her breath. She relaxed fractionally and went to stand in the darkened entrance. She peered into the shadows but she could not see much.
'Guess Mr. Amazing isn't here after all,' she said.
'He's here, all right. Come in and close the door behind you.'
'What do you mean?' She wrinkled her nose as she obediently shut the door. 'And what is that dreadful smell?'
'Brace yourself.' Rafe flicked on a light. 'Whoever tried to kill Crowder a few minutes ago got here ahead of us.'
Orchid stared at the unnaturally still figure sprawled on the floor near the wall. Blonde hair concealed the handsome face. Bright red blood stained the front of the spangled blue body suit. She felt her stomach twist into a sickening knot
'Oh, my God.' She swallowed. 'Is he ... ?'
'Yes.' Rafe scowled at the sight of her face. 'Can you handle it for a few minutes? I want to take a quick look around and it would be better if you waited in here rather than out in the hall. I don't want to take a chance on someone seeing you near this dressing room.'
'I can handle it.' Only because she was dazed, Orchid thought. The peculiar sense of disorientation seemed to have the effect of temporarily shielding her from the reality of the crumpled body on the floor. 'It must have happened only a few minutes ago.'
'Yes. While I wasted time questioning Crowder.' Rafe crossed the room to the dressing table. He crouched to peer underneath it.
'Quentin Austen has gone crazy,' she whispered.
'Looks like it.' Rafe ran his fingers along the bottom of the dressing table.
'What are you looking for?'
'Whatever it was the killer came here to find.' He straightened and checked behind the mirror. 'He was in a hurry. He had to know that we were only a few minutes behind him. He wouldn't have had time to do a thorough search.'
For the first time Orchid realized that the small dressing room was in a cluttered, jumbled state. Someone had obviously gone through it in a hasty, perhaps desperate fashion.
Get a grip, she thought. You can have a nervous breakdown later. She took a cautious breath, willed herself to concentrate on the problem at hand. Gingerly, she went toward the open door of a small closet. She could see a row of glittering costumes inside.
'I'll check his wardrobe,' she said in what she hoped was a businesslike tone.
Rafe paused long enough to give her a narrow look. Concern gleamed in his eyes. 'You sure you're all right?'
'Yes.' For now, at any rate. Ask me again, later.
She pushed aside the gaudy stage clothes and found a row of open drawers. The killer had already pawed through them. Wide belts studded with artificial gem-stones, rakish scarves and stage jewelry had been carelessly tossed about like so much flotsam and jetsam on a beach.
Orchid grimaced as she pulled out a handful of masculine undergarments. She shuddered when she held up a pair of slinky black briefs that featured a large pouch in the front and a narrow silk thong in the rear.
'Mr. Amazing must have had a subscription to the Syn-Sex Male catalog,' she muttered.
'The guy had class, all right.' Rafe eased the dresser away from the wall to look behind it 'Got to admire the taste of a man who stuffs a sock in his crotch.'
'You don't know that for certain.' She stooped to examine a row of leather boots decorated with sequins and fake stones. There was nothing inside the footwear.
When she started to get back to her feet, her head brushed against one of the hanging costumes. She cringed when she noticed that she had collided with the bulging crotch section of a pair of form-fitting crimson trousers.
The large, codpiece-like lump in the front of the pants did not give beneath the impact. She gazed at it thoughtfully for a long moment. Then she steeled her nerves for the task of investigating the interior of the costume.
There was nothing inside the first one except a great deal of artfully arranged padding. The second costume revealed more of the same. But in the third one she discovered something else besides stuffing in the artificially enlarged crotch.
Very slowly she withdrew a piece of paper that had been rolled into a tight scroll.
'Rafe?'
'Yeah?' He did not look up from a floorboard he was exploring with the tips of his gloved fingers.
'You were right about Mr. Amazing. It was all an illusion.' She unrolled the paper she had found.
'What are you—?' He paused, eyes slitting at the sight of what she held in her hand. 'What is it?'
'A photocopy of the letter Theo sent to Morgan Lambert.'
Chapter 15
Morgan:
