Free Murder by Magic by Rosemary Edghill Page A

removing the dinner plates. Emma’s was almost spotless. If there’s one thing in this world she adores, it’s steak Diane.
    Dessert was, as always, an event. Bananas Foster, prepared table side. I pushed it around on my plate, not actually eating any.
    Emma patted her lips with her napkin, then smoothly stood. “If you gentlemen will excuse me for a moment.” She left us at the table, and I gave Harrison credit for trying not to watch her as she walked away, long legs flashing. As I mentioned, she does have that effect on men.
    He and I sat quietly for a few moments, then began discussing the nuts and bolts of the matter at hand. While I could appreciate the importance to him, it was a simple case of industrial security. We’d done this sort of work many times before, and I felt confident it would be easily handled.
    Emma returned to the table, joining the conversation. We came to the agreement that we would start the next evening.
    It was a pleasant night, and we walked Harrison to his car. After reassuring him that things were under control, Emma and I decided to walk to our home rather than ride. Harrison started his gleaming Porsche and took off with tires squealing. As the taillights rounded the corner, I looked at Emma. “He was showing off, of course.”
    “Of course, darling. Do you find that annoying?”
    “Amusing, to be honest. If he only knew . . .”
    She laughed with me, her perfect teeth flashing. “Yes. If he only knew. Are you hungry? You didn’t eat much tonight. You never do, but tonight seemed different.”
    “Just not in the mood, I guess.”
    And we walked home, arm in arm in the moonlight. “It’s still beautiful, isn’t it?” she asked me, glancing upward.
    “Most of the time,” I replied.
    She giggled. “Three-quarter time?” she asked, pointing at the three-fourths moon.
    “That, too.”
    She hit me with the full force of her eyes, and I was mesmerized. Come to think of it, that’s how she got me to fall in love with her. In all my years, I’ve always marveled how men plan, plot, scheme, romance, and seduce. When a woman makes up her mind that a man is hers, a wise male simply accepts it, as there’s no use fighting. A mutual friend once asked me when I had fallen in love with Emma, and my immediate response was, “As soon as she told me to.”
    We were silent for a time, enjoying the night, then she tightened her grip on my arm. “Mr. Steele, I do believe there’s something in the air.”
    “Indeed there is, Mrs. Steele,” doing my best Sean Connery imitation. “Something’s come up.”
    Her hand slid up and down my arm, and she looked at me with the eyes that a woman saves for the man she loves. “Well, we’ll see what we can do about that.”
    And when we got home, we did.
    The next night we were ready.
    Four days passed with nothing happening. Nothing at all. On the fifth night . . .
    Shortly after midnight, there was a delicate sound of breaking glass from the foyer. Emma had been lightly dozing, and her eyes snapped open. She was alert and on her feet in the space of a heartbeat. Knowing each other well enough, we had no need for words as we moved to our respective hiding places. One of the things Harrison insisted upon was that we identify the thieves.
    A scratching sound told us someone was trying to pick the lock to the front office door. I’d been tempted to leave it unlocked, but decided against being too obvious about the setup. I had an infrared camera ready, and as the door opened, I hit the button to start the film rolling. Specially modified to be completely silent, it did its job perfectly, recording everything from that moment on.
    As the intruder came into the room, I could see night-vision goggles over the eyes. The would-be thief went directly to the safe where the software was stored, and began manipulating the dial. I fought a small smile of admiration: in this day and age of smash and grab, take the money and run, it was refreshing to see