Read Now You See It: A Toby Peters Mystery for Free Online Page B

side.
    Gunther’s room had a neatly made-up single bed in the corner with a muted multicolored Indian blanket over it and matching pillows on top. There was a single soft brown leather armchair, a dark Persian throw rug on the floor, dark wooden bookshelves against the walls, and a desk near the window with neat piles of paper, magazines, reports, and books. In the swivel chair by the desk, Gunther sat wearing, as he always did, a three-piece suit and tie. Gunther worked in his room as a translator for industry and the government. He always dressed for work.
    “You think Grieg’s music can cause someone to feel no pain?” I asked, standing in the open doorway.
    “He was of a dour Norwegian bent,” Gunther said seriously, with his slight Swiss accent, “and it has been said that even his Peer Gynt Suite might incline those less than devoted to his work to escape the performance by a protective self trance.”
    “Meaning?”
    “When bored by Grieg, people have been known to fall asleep, sometimes with their eyes open,” he explained. “May I ask why you present this question?”
    “Shelly,” I said.
    Gunther shook his head. The dentist’s name was explanation enough.
    “What do you know about magicians?” I asked.
    “When I was with the circus,” Gunther said, tapping the tiny fingers of his right hand on his desk, “I encountered several. At one point I was even employed by Spengler Aroyo, Spengler the Magnificent. Magicians like to have little people in their acts. He billed me as Hugo the Dwarf. I objected. I am not a dwarf. I quit. Magicians are often dual of visage—open, gregarious in public, intense and brooding in private.”
    “Phil and I are working for Harry Blackstone,” I said.
    “It is my understanding that he is an amiable gentleman of his word,” said Gunther. “Can I be of service?”
    “I’ll let you know,” I said. “What are you working on?”
    “This?” he said, putting his palm on a yellow folder. “This is a fascinating technical report in Danish of a process for the ultra-refinement of crude oil.”
    “Fascinating.”
    “You jest,” said Gunther with a smile.
    “See you at dinner,” I said. “Beef heart stew.”
    I left the room closing the door behind me as the phone at the end of the hall rang. I moved to get it.
    “Hello,” I said.
    “Tobias,” said Phil. “Our client got another call. “Tomorrow night’s performance at the Pantages. The son-of-a-bitch said it would be Blackstone’s last unless he turned over his secrets to someone who would come to him at the theater before the show.”
    “You talk to the caller?”
    “Yeah,” said Phil. “I told him we would be waiting for him. He laughed and called me a blustering stooge.”
    “What did you do?”
    “Tore the damn phone off the wall.”

Chapter 4
     
             Write something on a sheet of paper, fold it, and tell the other person to place it in his pocket. Lay out two small piles of cards. Make it clear that the piles do not have the same number of cards. Tell the other person that you have predicted which pile he will point to. Have him point to a pile. Tell him to open the sheet of paper you have written on. The number 7 is written on the paper. Pick up the pile and count. There are seven cards in the pile. Solution: If the other person had picked the pile with four cards, you turn the cards over. They are all sevens .
From the Blackstone, The Magic Detective radio show
     
    A ND THEN IT WAS W EDNESDAY, the 25 th ,and I was on the platform on my back about to be buzz-sawed up the middle, while dressed in a blue uniform with epaulets and big brass buttons.
    I don’t know what happened. I don’t know how it happened. I do know that the blade was real and spinning noisily very close to the last place I wanted it to be. Then darkness. I felt myself turning over, rolling to my right. Then I was lying on a mattress looking up at Jeremy Butler who reached down, took my arm, and lifted me