Dead Mans Hand

"I didn't know waxworks could move," Jay said.

"We've been moving away from wax on the animated exhibits," Dutton said. "Sayyid is three-quarters plastic."

"Doesn't he crush those other figures?"

"He never hits the ground," Dutton said. "The children love it. They all squeeze their little fists, pretending to be aces."

"Hiram will be so thrilled," Jay said dryly. "Come, let me give you the tour," Dutton said.

"Only if we skip the Monstrous Joker Babies," Jay said. "I got enough problems without ru

"Great waxwork," Jay said. "Looks real."

"It is," Dutton said. "Gimli's empty skin was found in an alley not far from here. There was no family, so we, ah, acquired the remains."

Jay gave him a look. "You stuffed him." He'd heard that story on the streets somewhere, but somehow he'd forgotten. Dutton cleared his throat. "Yes. Well. He has been quite a popular attraction."

"I think I've seen enough," Jay told him.

"Fine." Dutton took him across a cavernous hall where the Turtle's old shells hung suspended from the ceiling. The adjoining gallery was still under construction. Dutton guided Jay through the tangle of ladders, tarps, and sawhorses to a snack-room square in the center of the building. He turned on the lights and stood in front of a bank of vending machines. "Would you prefer coffee or a soft drink?" he asked.

It was chilly in here, Jay realized suddenly. They must use the air-conditioning even at night on account of the waxworks. "Coffee would be real good," he admitted.

Dutton fed quarters into the coffee machine and came to the table with two cardboard cups. He gave one to Jay. They sat. "So what do you think of my little museum now?"

"Museums are like graveyards," Jay said. "Full of dead things. Dead things depress me."

"The Famous Bowery Wild Card Dime Museum jokertown institution."

Jay blew on his coffee. "The Palace is an institution, too."

"Yes," Dutton said. "Of a different sort."

"And now you own it, too."

"Under the terms of our partnership agreement, the surviving partner assumes full ownership of the Crystal Palace, yes."

"That why you had her killed?" Jay suggested casually.

Dreams came again, but this time they were vague, formless things that chased Bre

He felt her cool hands on his face, and she was kneeling before him. She was dressed in a bathing suit this time, and she was softly saying his name over and over again. He tried to reach out to her, but he was still tied to his chair. She reached out and touched his bonds, and they dissolved. He tumbled forward. She broke his fall and they both landed on the floor, Bre

She was beautiful. He kissed her for a long, long moment, but then she squirmed away.

"We have to get away, Daniel, we have to get out of here before they come back."

Bre

She pushed him away. He fell off her to the floor and looked at her with hurt in his eyes. "Just like my other dream," he said, and had an overwhelming urge to cry.

"This isn't a dream," Je

She grabbed Bre

"You are real," Bre

"I am." She stood, and pulled on Bre

He tried to stand too, and immediately was struck by an intense attack of vertigo. He leaned on Je

"What are you doing here?" he asked. "Rescuing you. No time to talk now."

Bre

It was dark outside. Bre

"My car's this way," Bre

"How did you find me?" Bre

Je

"Phone call?"

"Yes. She said you were here, that you'd been captured." They broke out of the trees to the roadside. Bre

Bre

"The fu

"I could swear that it was Chrysalis on the other end of the line."

Bre

The man who had discovered it.

Dutton sipped from his cardboard cup very calmly. "Would you prefer that I spill my coffee in shock or just quietly turn pale with guilt?"

"Either one, just so you confess," Jay said, "I'm not fussy."

"Assuming that I was guilty, isn't it a bit naive to expect that I'd own up the moment I'm accused?"

"Hey, it always works for Perry Mason," Jay said. "You can't blame a guy for trying."

Dutton put down the coffee, took off his cloak, and draped it over the back of a chair. Beneath the banks of fluorescent light, his skin was a ghastly shade of yellow, here and there mottled with dry, dead patches of brown. "I happen to look like the popular image of the grim reaper," the joker said. "Sometimes that causes people to make unfortunate assumptions about me. I did not kill Chrysalis."

"Not personally," Jay said, "but you had the bucks to hire it done. And you had the motive."

"Did I?" Dutton seemed amused. "The land on which the Palace stands is worth quite a bit, agreed. The saloon itself is a good tax loss. I may keep it open and I may not, but I'd hardly kill for it."