08 The Magician's Secret (12 page)

It was Bess who said what I was thinking. “In many ways, you are a better magician than Drake Lonestar.”

“I know!” Hugo stood and paced the room. “It's true. I can do escape
and
illusion. So why don't I have the big show? Why don't I have the cash? Why didn't I get the girl?”

Hugo was growing angry, and it made me nervous.

More than anything, I wished the police would come rushing in just then. I also realized that I hadn't
yet persuaded Hugo to actually confess, so I took a deep breath and plodded on.

“All those lies. Drake trusted you to be his friend! You convinced him the lies were to protect him from fans, but really they were so you could steal millions and frame him for it.”

Hugo's face flushed, and he pumped his fist. “Listen, I met Gritty first. I was in love with her, but like everyone else, she was dazzled by Drake.” He grimaced. “Gritty picked Drake over me, and they married in secret to prevent a lot of celebrity buzz. When I found out, I advised them to get divorced. They believed me when I said it would be best for both of their careers. So they did officially, though for all intents and purposes they still acted and lived as a married couple.

“Drake got everything. The fame. The magic act. The girl.” He sighed. “And I ended up with nothing. So I'm going to do whatever it takes to prove to Gritty that I've always been the right man for her! Including getting her all the money she needs.” He grunted.
“Way more than Drake could ever give her.”

“Hugo, we need to know where the other gems are.” I glanced at Sawyer, who was creeping toward the hotel room door. I really hoped he wouldn't just leave us here like this. I wasn't sure I could hold Hugo much longer. “Do you have them with you now?” I asked.

“As a matter of fact, I do.” Hugo suddenly seemed fully relaxed. He smiled, sat back down, and crossed his legs. The posture made me again look at his shoes. I wondered . . .

He grinned. He winked. And then a puff of thick, white smoke filled the room. And a moment later, I was facing an empty chair.

Hugo was gone.

THE NEXT AFTERNOON I WAS
lying on George's bed, waiting for her to show me the big project she'd been working on all day.

I tried to peek at the screen, but she blocked me, turning the computer slightly. “Not yet, Nancy. You'll ruin the illusion!”

“Just like Sawyer ruined Hugo's?” I asked with a satisfied smile.

As it turned out, magician Sawyer saw things in Drake Lonestar's hotel room that I'd missed.

When I'd knocked over the bathroom trash can,
I hadn't understood the meaning of the items that spilled out. The bits of wood I'd seen were matchsticks with the heads cut off, and the sugar packets, well, those weren't used for coffee. Both were among the ingredients commonly used to make a magician's smoke bomb.

Sawyer's experience in the River Heights Magic Club told him exactly what Hugo was up to, and he prepared for it.

The only possible exits out of that room were the hole in the bathroom ceiling, the balcony, and the front door. Sawyer had replaced the ceiling tiles when they left the bathroom. The balcony was a harrowing thirteen floors up. That left the door as the only viable escape, so Sawyer decided to position himself there. I'd seen him scooting that way but hadn't even thought to wonder why.

When the smoke bomb went off, he blocked the door to keep Hugo from leaving. Of course he wasn't really a match for beefy Hugo, but the swarms of reporters in the hallway had closed in on him. The
police arrived just in time (I was right about my friends calling them), and found the gemstones were hidden in Hugo's shoes.

“Did you finish the video yet, George?” Bess asked as she walked into the room. She was carrying a stack of magazines.

“Almost,” George said. She looked up from her computer. “What's with the mags?”

Bess groaned. “Reporters can be so gullible.” She waved the pile around in the air. “Every single one of these reported that Gritty Grand had a relationship with Hal Thomas without even questioning it.” She sat down next to me.

“Hal's not totally innocent. The publicity was good for him, too,” I said. “The controversy of dating a much older woman gets people talking.”

“He still uses too much hair gel, if you ask me.” George laughed as her fingers flew over the keys. “Nearly done,” she murmured.

“So I think I figured out how Hugo got the keys to the jewelry store,” I told my friends.

“Really?” George asked.

“Remember when we saw him at the Riverview? He was carrying a coffee cup from the River Run Coffee Shop.”

When they both nodded, I went on. “And Candy said she went there on her regular work breaks.”

“Ten, noon, and three,” Bess recalled.

“She was predictable. And he was a magician. I bet he pickpocketed her while she stood in line and made wax molds of her keys like Houdini.”

“But she said she'd never seen him when we showed her his picture,” George said.

“All that means is that she didn't
notice
him,” I answered. “Hugo was a savvy magician—he was a master at going undetected.”

“I'm done,” George suddenly announced. “Come see!”

We all gathered around the computer. George was about to push the play button when Ned arrived. “Hello, ladies. What's going on?”

“I'm showing Nancy and Bess a magic trick,” George explained. “And I think I figured out the
secret to Drake's disappearing courthouse show. All I'll say is that I believe it involves clever use of video.”

“Oh, I want to see!” Ned moved in closer to the small screen.

On the screen was an image of River Heights High School. The music George had chosen was the school band. Suddenly the music stopped and the screen went black.

“Now you see it,” George said, “now you don't.” The screen came back and now, where the high school was stood an amusement park. There was a Ferris wheel where the cafeteria used to be and a carousel in the open area where the gym stood.

“Okay, so the magic needs some work . . . ,” George said. “But I think I'm onto something. I just need to figure out how to make it a little less obvious.”

“Keep working on it,” I said. At this point, I was fine with not completely understanding how the courthouse had disappeared.

Ned chuckled.

“I'm glad you're here,” I said, turning to him. I
thought he'd be busy all day finishing reports for my dad and then escorting Smallwood to the airport.

“It turns out that Smallwood is going to hang around for a few more days to get to know Candy better,” he said, raising his eyebrows. “So I got the rest of the afternoon off. Turns out I can go to my cousin's fifth birthday party tonight after all.” He grinned. “Cake, balloon animals, face painting . . . want to come?”

“How can I say no?” I said with a big laugh as I grabbed my purse and followed Ned out the door.

There was a magician at the party.

Not just any magician, but Sawyer. Turns out that this was the Stupendous Sawyer's first professional gig.

Standing in front of a group of captivated kids, Sawyer performed card tricks and pulled a bunny out of a hat. For his grand finale, he asked for an assistant and chose me out of the crowd.

I boldly climbed into a long box and let my newest friend saw me in half.

The kids cheered when Sawyer said, “Abracadabra” and I stepped out of the box whole again.

“So, Nancy Drew, how's it all done?” Ned asked me as we sat in a back corner of the yard, eating the most delicious lemon cake I'd ever tasted. “Tell me the secret.”

I laughed, then shrugged. “Who knows? Magic is a mystery that doesn't need solving.”

Dear Diary,

I GUESS HUGO WAS A BETTER MAGICIAN
than anyone could have seen . . . even Lonestar! I can't help feeling bad that Lonestar's most trusted adviser ended up betraying him. It can't be easy to be a celebrity in the spotlight like that. There's one thing I know for sure, though: True-blue friends like Bess and George are even more precious than the flawless jewels Hugo tried to steal.

“I'M JUST SAYING,” MY FRIEND BESS
Marvin said as we pushed open the door of the River Heights Community Center, “I don't see how you can get this excited about vegetables.”

She was talking to George Fayne, her cousin and my other best friend, who was following behind with an expression like she'd just sucked on a lemon. Ned Nickerson, my boyfriend, was right behind George, wearing an amused expression.

“They're not just vegetables,” George said, in the frustrated tone of someone who'd been arguing with
the same person nearly since birth, “they're organic, sustainable, locally grown vegetables. And fruits, too!”

“I just think it's all a little silly,” said Bess, sighing as we entered the community center gymnasium, which was set up like a banquet hall, filled with round tables covered with red tablecloths and enticing combinations of fresh harvest produce. A banner welcomed us to the
FIRST ANNUAL BLACK CREEK FARM CSA BANQUET AND HARVEST CELEBRATION
.

George glared at her cousin. “How is organic farming silly?” she demanded.

Ned adjusted his glasses and spoke up. “I might see what Bess is getting at,” he said, giving George a disarming grin. “Not that any farming is silly, but . . . you know, scientists have been trying for years to prove that organically grown produce is better for you, and they've found very little evidence.”

George let out a scoff. “Well, thank you, Dr. Science.”

I held up my hands in the gesture for truce. “All right, all right,” I said.

I was saved from further arguing by the interruption of a grinning blonde woman with a purple streak in her hair.

“OMG, Bess, and George!” the woman cried, appearing out of nowhere to pull the two cousins into a big hug. “The last time I saw you, you were kids; now you're young ladies, as my grandmother would say!”

George and Bess exchanged glances and smiled as the woman slowly let them go.

“Holly,” George said, “we're so excited that you invited us to this!” She paused to introduce Ned and me to Holly. “Guys, this is Holly Sinclair. She was Bess's and my awesome Girl Scout leader.”

Holly shook each of our hands excitedly. “You guys, I'm so happy you could come!” she said, her cheeks flushed. “Black Creek Farm CSA is doing some really good work, trying to change the way our food gets grown,” she said seriously. “They just need some more support from the community. So I convinced them to throw this dinner so people can taste their food!”

“Holly, I told you,” Bess said teasingly, “I like organic farms and all, but we're not exactly the culinary decision-makers in our families. And my mom really likes the Stop-N-Go,” she added. “Especially since they put in that Starbucks.”

Holly shook her head, her dark eyes shining. “Your mom probably wouldn't like it so much if she knew where all that mass-produced food was coming from, or what it's doing to the environment,” she said. “Come on, guys, have a seat with me.”

Holly led our small group to a nearby table, where we all pulled out chairs.

“Soooo,” Holly began, sliding into a seat next to George, “you guys must know that the produce you buy in a grocery store isn't all from around here, right?”

Ned nodded. “Of course,” he said. “But that goes without saying. Not every climate will be able to produce every fruit or vegetable there's demand for.”

“That's true,” Holly said, “but do you think people really think about where their food comes from when it's so shiny and easy to buy at the supermarket? Maybe
that orange was picked before it was ripe and flown in on a cargo jet, or else trucked around the country using tons of fossil fuels and releasing all kinds of toxins into the environment. But if people stopped and thought about eating locally, maybe they'd select an apple that was grown down the road—perfectly ripe and much easier to transport.”