Free Magicide by Carolyn V. Hamilton

coffee spilled onto the lace tablecloth. “Damn.”
    Was that pain Cheri saw on Peter’s face? He turned to look at his questioner, and instantly his expression became passive. But his response was curt. “No.”
    Cheri looked at her notebook again. “Do you know where we can find Dayan Franklyn?”
    “At Maxwell’s?”
    “Did you know Dayan? Have you ever met him?” Pizzarelli pressed.
    “I sort of know him,” Peter mumbled. “We met for coffee the day before the performance.” His eyes bored into the coffee mug and his voice had taken on a tone that made her suspect he wouldn’t tell them the entire truth.
    “You sort of know him. How was his mood? What did you talk about?”
    Peter took a deep breath. “I gave him a present for good luck. He’s becoming a good magician. He was assisting in the roller coaster effect at the Dunes Park, but he wouldn’t tell me in what capacity. He was so excited, like a little kid at his first birthday party. He said I’d be really proud of him. I was happy for him.”
    Cheri made a circular motion in the air with her digital notebook. “Let’s go over that again. You sort of know him, but you gave him a present?”
    “What kind of present?” Pizzarelli asked.
    Ignoring the questions, Peter said, “I gave him the video of my first magic performance.” His face took on a dreamy expression. “It was a card trick. The one where the magician plunges a hypodermic needle into the top of the card deck and removes all the red ink from the cards. Only black cards are left. I was nine years old—my audience was really impressed.”
    “Speaking of video,” she said, “Do you know anything about a DVD supposedly made of Maxwell in a magic ritual?”
    An antique clock in the dining room chimed the half hour. Peter said, “This carafe’s empty. I’ll be right back.” He rose abruptly from the table, grabbed the carafe and headed for the kitchen.
    Cheri exchanged glances with Pizzarelli and neither spoke. When Peter returned with the refilled carafe, he announced, “Carter Cunningham has that DVD.”
    Cheri managed to conceal her surprise. “You’ve seen it?”
    “Yes.” Peter’s voiced lowered in disgust. “Maxwell performs his annual ritual up on Sunrise Mountain to rejuvenate his magical powers. Only this time he went too far.”
    “He couldn’t have been alone. Who held the camera?”
    “I’m not sure…I think maybe it could have been Dayan....” After speaking the name of his father’s protégé, further words seemed trapped in his throat.
    “So how’d he go ‘too far?’” Pizzarelli asked.
    Beads of sweat on Peter’s tanned forehead highlighted the widow’s peak. Was he nervous about what he’d seen on the DVD? Was he jealous that Dayan Franklyn had been there and not him? Or was it from the steam of the coffee cup that, with both hands, he held close to his mouth?
    “Not my place to talk about it,” he mumbled, talking into the mug. “Go get it and judge for yourselves.”
    “How did Carter Cunningham come to have it? Was he involved in the ritual?” Cheri asked.
    His fingers tremored as he set the coffee mug carefully on the table before he replied. “Carter wasn’t there. Dayan gave it to me, but I don’t think Maxwell knew he did. I couldn’t keep it here.” He made a rolling gesture with his head and eyes. “What if my mother found it? So I gave it to Carte r⎯ my best frien d⎯ for safekeeping.”
    “Carter’s no longer your best friend?”
    “We had a bit of a falling-out.” His perfect mouth slumped into a pout. “When I thought about how damaging the DVD would be if the press got hold of it, I asked for it back. I’d decided to destroy it. Yes, I hated my father, but magic scandal hurts all of us. Carter didn’t want to give it back. I think he was planning to blackmail Maxwell with it.”
    “That incriminating, huh?” Cheri asked.
    She figured Pizza had probably come to the same conclusion as her—that Dayan