The Perfect Poison Read Free Page B

said, “it is time to bid you all adieu.”
    “Good riddance,” someone called out.
    Edmund bowed deeply.
    “I want my money back,” a man yelled.
    Ignoring the jeering, Edmund gripped the edges of his cloak, raised them high and then drew the black satin folds closed, concealing himself from the audience. He heightened his senses again, generating more energy, and executed his final astonishment.
    The cloak crumpled to the floor, revealing an empty stage.
    There was, at long last, a gasp of amazement from the audience. The hissing and booing ceased abruptly. Edmund listened from the other side of the tattered red velvet curtain. He needed to devise more of such flashy, attention-grabbing tricks. There were two problems, however. The first was that elaborate and suitably dramatic stage props of the sort that would truly impress a crowd were expensive.
    The second problem was that showmanship was not in his nature. He preferred to go unnoticed. He hated the spotlight and all that went with it. It made him decidedly uneasy to be the center of all eyes. Face it, Fletcher, you were born for a life of crime, not the stage.
    “Come back out here and show us how you did that,” someone shouted through the curtain.
    The murmur of startled amazement that had rippled across the audience promptly metamorphosed into grumbling disgust.
    “One halfway decent trick,” a man complained. “That’s all he’s got.”
    Edmund started backstage toward his dressing room. Murphy, the owner of the theater, loomed in the shadows. His plump little dog, Pom, was at his feet. With their broad heads and squashed-in noses, the two bore an uncanny resemblance. Pom bared his teeth and uttered a high-pitched growl.
    “Difficult crowd,” Edmund offered.
    “Can’t say as I blame ’em,” Murphy said in a voice that sounded a lot like Pom’s. His ruddy face tightened into a sour scowl. “Any magician worth his salt can escape from a locked cage or a pair of handcuffs. That last trick of yours isn’t half bad but it’s hardly unique, now, is it? Keller the Great and Lorenzo the Magnificent both make themselves disappear on a nightly basis. They make a lot of other things vanish, as well, including attractive young ladies.”
    “Hire an attractive young lady for me and I’ll make her disappear for you,” Edmund said. “We’ve discussed this before, Murphy. If you want fancier astonishments, you’ll have to invest in more expensive props and pretty assistants. I certainly cannot afford them on what you pay me.”
    Pom snarled. So did Murphy.
    “I’m already paying you far too much,” Murphy snapped.
    “I could make more driving a hansom. Get out of my way, Murphy. I need a drink.”
    He continued down the hall to the tiny closet he used as a dressing room. Murphy bustled after him. Edmund heard Pom’s claws clicking on the wooden boards.
    “Hold on, there,” Murphy said. “We’re going to have a talk.”
    Pom yipped.
    Edmund did not slow his pace. “Later, if you don’t mind.”
    “Now, damn it. I’m closing down your engagement. Tonight was your last performance. You can pack your things and leave.”
    Edmund halted abruptly and turned on his heel. “You can’t sack me. We have a contract.”
    Pom skidded to a stop and hastily retreated. Murphy drew himself up to his full height, which brought his large, bald head even with Edmund’s shoulders. “There’s a clause in the contract that says if the nightly receipts fall below a certain minimum for three performances in a row, I am free to terminate the agreement. For your information, the receipts have been below the minimum for over a fortnight.”
    “It’s not my fault you don’t know how to advertise and promote a magician’s act.”
    “It’s not my fault you’re a mediocre illusionist,” Murphy shot back. “It’s all well and good to unlock safes and make a few items disappear and reappear, but that’s very old-fashioned stuff. The public wants new and more