“And now, ladies and gentlemen…” The handsome young magician strutted across the darkened stage, the spotlight following his every move. He tugged at the lapels of his tuxedo. “The finale of… the tragedy of the six sisters!”

Nodding, the buxom blonde looked him up and down. “Well, Officer Harriman, the volunteer was selected at random, the same way we do every night. None of us had anything to do with the death of Mrs. Gabriella Romain.”

Sergio cracked a thin smile. “You’re pretty jumpy for a drug dealer.” “There’s an old saying. Hope for the best but plan for the worst.” The bald black man tugged at his collar. “Me getting killed would be the worst.”

The detective cringed. “Gianelli? Sir, that’s my crime scene. I was there.” “It’s not your scene. It’s the scene of whoever I assign it to, and I’m assigning it to somebody else. I need your talents elsewhere.”

"The future comes, Sergio. Whether you’re ready or not."

“The boys. What does someone with cancer tell their children? How does that news affect them? They’ll be scared. They’re such brave little men, but a child losing his mother—a child of any age—it has to be devastating.

She glanced at her phone again. “According to the news sites, he recently bought a big house on Bayshore Boulevard and a historic landmark theater in Ybor City. I’d say he’s trying to impress everyone.”

Sergio pulled his vehicle to a stop near an array of squad cars, their emergency lights flashing in the midday sun. Sighing, he put the car in park and dropped his hands to his lap. “This guy is acting like no criminal I ever saw before.”

“I can read people,” Scarlet said. “It’s part of what I do. A magic act isn’t magic, Detective Martin. It’s reading people and guiding them to do what you want, but doing it in such a way that they think it’s their idea. You can learn almost everything about a person in ten seconds. Anyone. They tell you without telling you.” “Yeah? What can you read about me?” “Oh, let’s not, sugar.” Scarlet said. “You seem like a nice guy, and I don’t want to offend you when we were getting off to such a good start.”

“You said I was late for our meeting this morning. If I had been on time, we’d have walked into a hail of bullets and we’d both be dead.” He took another sip of beer. “You’re alive because of my complete lack of adherence to rigid appointment times.”

“Whatcha thinking?” She eased herself onto the rock next to him. The detective shrugged. “Just kinda… compiling.” “Well, this is a good place for that,” Avarie said. “It’s pretty. Although it’s a little hot. And the seating is very uncomfortable. And the dead guy ruins the ambiance.”

“You know, these books—they’re just for show.” He leaned forward, lifting a book from the top of one of the stacks. “They’re the kind that people buy but don’t ever read.”