Vic

Vic felt the hair on the back of his neck rise. “Simon did a séance for someone whose daughter drowned on the beach there back in the seventies. The new art exhibit about the Ocean Paradise needed him to send away ghosts. Then he ran into an author and a filmmaker who did projects about the hotel and seem to be stalked by a dangerous spirit. It really threw his mood off.”

Ross nodded in sympathy. “And if your partner ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy.”

“That’s the truth,” Vic agreed.

“I’ve heard of the hotel. I think my aunt worked there when she was in high school, and I’ve heard my mom talk about going to parties. The hotel’s been gone a long time. But it’s funny that you ask…the victim definitely had strong ties to Ocean Paradise back in the day,” Ross said.

“Tell me what you know, and I’ll give you more scoop from Simon.” Vic returned his attention to the file. “Fill me in. The caffeine hasn’t hit the bloodstream yet.”

“The victim’s name is Timothy Sheldon, age eighty-six. He was a retired career stage magician. Guy used to work up and down the East Coast at all the swanky hotels. A regular David Copperfield—only not as famous. Never played Vegas.”

“Guessing it wasn’t natural causes despite his age. Murdered, right? Since we’re on the job.”

“Yeah—but it’s weird. Sheldon collected magical props. All sorts of stuff—vanishing cabinets, card tricks, costumes, saw-em-in-two-boxes. The house is full of it, according to the notes.”

“Did he get sawn in two? Disappeared into his cabinet? The file doesn’t say.”

“Choked on a deck of cards,” Ross said. “Cause of death—suffocation from an obstructed airway.”

Vic turned to him, incredulous. “How?”

“That’s what they pay us the big bucks to find out, remember?” Ross joked.

“Any chance he did it himself?”

“Unlikely, since he was handcuffed to a chair at the time.”

“Kinky.”

“Yeah, but they were supposed to be trick cuffs, ones he’d gotten out of hundreds of times. Except they were stuck,” Ross said.

Vic continued to study the file. “House was locked from the inside, no evidence of breaking and entering, no security camera footage to show an intruder,” he noted aloud. “Could be suicide.”

“You’d think. But riddle me this—how does a guy who’s cuffed to a chair choke himself swallowing a deck of cards?”

“If he did manage to do it, did he leave a note? Was there a reason? Terminal cancer? Bankruptcy?

Divorce?”

Ross shook his head. “None of the above. He was in as good health as a man his age could expect. He was a lifelong bachelor, active in clubs and professional societies. Bit of a player, even at his age.”

“String of wronged girlfriends?”

“Yes, actually…and we have a list of people to talk to. But he dated women near his own age. I’d be more inclined to think they’d poison him instead of taking such a…physical approach.”

“Arsenic and old playing cards?” Vic snarked. Dark humor helped them deal with the worst parts of their job.

“It doesn’t sound right for a broken heart murder,” Ross mused. “But it definitely seems like a personal vendetta.”

“And since the room was locked from the inside, unless we find a way someone got in and out, then odds are good we need to bring Simon into this because we’re dealing with something supernatural.” Vic closed the folder. A sour feeling curdled in the pit of his stomach. “We’ve only got a week and a half before the wedding. I was hoping nothing would come up to involve Simon. He’s got enough on his plate with the plans. It would be nice if he wasn’t completely stressed out by the time we get to the ceremony.”