Violets are Blue

The message was classic. It was pure Jamilla: I'mcoming to New Orleans, and they're going down. Don't doubt it for a second.

Chapter 60

Jamilla and I met up at the Dauphine Hotel that night. She was decked out in a black leather jacket, blue jeans, a white pocket-T. She looked rested and ready for anything; I didn't feel so bad myself.

We had supper together, steak and eggs and beer, in the dining room. As always, I enjoyed her company. We made each other laugh. At ten-thirty we drove over to Howl. Daniel and Charles had shows scheduled at eleven and one. And then? Maybe they had pla

We were pumped to take them down. Unfortunately, we still needed concrete evidence that they were our killers. There were more than two hundred agents and New Orleans police involved in the case. Something had to break. Presumably, Daniel and Charles would have to feed soon.

It was a Friday night, and Howl was almost full when we got there. Loud music played from speakers that seemed to be everywhere in the ceiling and walls. The crowd was mostly young and restless, drinking beer, smoking, dirty dancing. Several Goths were mixed in with the more clean-cut college kids. The two groups leered at each other, and the atmosphere was charged. A photographer from Off Beatmagazine crouched in front of the stage, waiting for the magic show to begin.

Jamilla and I sat down at one of the small tables and ordered beers. There were at least a dozen FBI agents in the club. Kyle was outside in a surveillance car. He had been inside the night before, but it was hard for Kyle to blend in with a mostly young, hip crowd. He looked too much like a cop.

The back of my throat was already begi

My head was clear, though; I definitely felt a lot better than I had. I liked having Jamilla around again. She gave good counsel.

"Kyle has a six-team surveillance on the magicians around the clock," I told her. "They won't lose them again. Kyle guarantees it."

"The FBI thinks they're definitely the killers?" she asked. "No doubt about it? Lock 'em up, throw away the key?"

"Some doubt, I suppose, but not much. You never know exactly what Kyle is thinking," I told her. "But yes, I think he does. The techies at Quantico do. So do I."

She studied me over the lip of her bottle of beer. "Sounds like the two of you are pretty tight, huh?"

I nodded. "We've worked a lot of cases together in the past few years. Our success rate is good. I can't say that I really know him."

"I've never had much luck working with the FBI," she said. "That's just me, though."

"Part of my job is to make sure police relations with the Bureau run smoothly in D.C. Kyle is definitely smart. He's just hard to read at times."

She sipped her beer slowly. "Unlike somebody else at this table."

"Unlike two somebodies at this table," I corrected her, and we both laughed.

Jamilla glanced at the stage. "What's the holdup? Where are they? Should we start stamping our feet for them to come out and show us some magic? Show us what they've got?"

We didn't have to. A moment later one of the magicians walked out onto the stage.

It was Charles, and he lookedlike a killer.

Chapter 61

Charles was wearing a skintight black bodysuit and thigh-high patent-leather boots. He had a simple diamond earring and a gold nose stud. He stared contemptuously at the audience. He did this for several uncomfortable moments, his eyes full of hatred and disdain for every case he encountered.

At least twice, I thought that he looked directly at Jamilla and me. So did she.

"Yeah, we're watching you too, asshole," she said, raising her beer in mock salute. "You think those two pitiful creeps know we're here?"

"Who knows? They're good at this. They haven't been caught yet."

"I hear you. Hopefully, they both have stomach cancer and will die slowly and painfully over the next several months. Cheers." She raised her bottle again.

Charles leaned down and spoke to a college-age couple at a table near the stage. He was miked.

"What are you two airheads staring at? Watch out, or I'll turn you into a couple of toads. Upgrade you on the food chain." He laughed, and it was deep and throaty. To my ear, it was also u

I looked over at Jamilla. "He sees them as food. Interesting how his twisted mind works."

The second magician sauntered out onto the stage a couple of minutes later. No magic gimmicks to a

"For the uninitiated, I'm Daniel. Charles and I have been doing magic shows since we were twelve years old and living in San Diego, California. We're very good at magic. We can do the 'Vanishing Performer' — Houdini's personal favorite; the 'Sword Cabinet'; Carl Hertz's 'Merry Widow'; DeKolta's 'Cocoon.' I can catch a bullet fired from a Colt Magnum in my teeth. So can Charles. Aren't we special? Don't you wish you were us?"

The crowd howled and cheered. The rock music from the speakers had been lowered. Only the beat droned on.

"The illusion you are about to witness is the same one Harry Houdini used to close his show in Paris and New York. We're using it to openour show. Need I say more?"

The lights suddenly flashed off. The stage was in total darkness. A few women in the audience screeched loudly.

Mock fear. Mostly there was laughter, some of it nervous. What were these two really up to?

Jamilla nudged me with an elbow. "Don't be scared. I'm right here. I'll protect you."

"I'll remember that."

Then tiny pinpricks of light appeared everywhere on the stage. The main spots came on again. Nothing happened for the next minute or so.

Then Daniel, riding a spirited, prancing white stallion, came out onto the stage. He was dressed in royal blue glitter from head to toe. He wore a matching top hat, and he tipped it to the cheering audience.

"I must admit this is pretty cool," Jamilla said. "Quite the stunt. So visual. Now what?"

Daniel was followed onstage by eight men and women in crisp white palace uniforms. And two white tigers. It was a pretty amazing spectacle. Two female performers held up a huge oriental fan in front of Daniel and his high-stepping horse. My eyes were glued to the stage.

"Jesus," Jamilla muttered. "What the hell is this?"

"They're ripping off Harry Houdini, like the man said. And they're doing it well."

When the two women slowly pulled the fan away, Daniel was gone. Now Charles was seated on the white horse.

"Once again — Jesus," said Jam. "How do they do that?"

Somehow, Charles had changed into black trash and glitter. The smirk on his face was totally, incredibly arrogant. It showed utter disdain for the audience, but they seemed to love it, to love him. A puff of smoke, and the audience gasped as one.

Somehow, Daniel was back onstage, standing alongside

Charles and the beautiful horse. The illusion was masterful. Everyone in the audience jumped up and clapped wildly. The screams and piercing whistles hurt my ears.

"And that," Daniel a

Jamilla looked at me and her mouth sagged. "Alex, these guys are very good, and I've seen Siegfried and Roy. Why are they playing at these little clubs? Why are they wasting their time here?"