out. Thalia noticed another who was peeling a hard-boiled egg.
Nora Uberti, who had once thought herself to be the first and only Mrs. Von Faber, sat quietly in the front row, her expression pleasant. Her hands were folded in her lap. Her head was tilted to show she was giving Thalia all her polite attention. Thalia met her mild eyes and held them, counting the silent seconds until Nora dropped her gaze. Six. That, under the circumstances, impressed Thalia. A cool customer, Nora.
Thalia spun the moment out as long as her audience returned her scrutiny with interest, then resumed her patter. “May I have a volunteer from the audience?”
Mrs. Viridian climbed on the stage before anyone else could move. “I insist you choose me.”
The Bullet Catch proceeded. Thalia showed Mrs. Viridian the special leaden ball. Then, holding it in the hollow of her hand, Thalia pretended to whisper to the bit of lead. Thalia palmed that musket ball and only pretended to put it into the rifle. “I have asked the powers of mystery for their aid. They will show us the truth.”
Using every trick of timing she knew to keep her audience focused on her, Thalia aimed her rifle at a bronze gong hung at the far side of the tiny stage. A second gong, hung at the back of the theater, was struck as soon as the gun fired. Anton Ostrova timed the strike perfectly. The reverberation filled the room and even drew a note from the untouched gong onstage.
“Where is the bullet?” Thalia went through her pantomime with relish. “Where has it gone?”
Once it had been thoroughly established that no musket ball had struck the gong she had aimed at, Thalia intoned, “Oh, mystic powers, show us the truth. Murder will out. Speak the truth!”
In pantomime as elaborate as she dared, Thalia pretended to hear the musket ball whispering to her. The spotlights followed her as she followed the inaudible voice of the bullet, letting it call her down from the stage and into the audience. She followed it to Nora’s spot in the theater audience. “I hear it. Don’t you hear it? Powers of mystery, show us a sign!”
“This is ridiculous,” Nora said, arms folded tight, every line of her body full of scorn.
“Mystic powers don’t lie,” Thalia countered. “Turn out your reticule.”
“Certainly not!” Nora glared at Thalia.
“Anything to stop this nonsense.” Mrs. Viridian seized Nora’s reticule and upended it into Nora’s lap. Among the items that fell out were Nora’s comb and pocket mirror, a packet of pastilles, and a leaden musket ball engraved with the word “Murderer.”
“What is this?” Mrs. Viridian took the musket ball between thumb and forefinger. “What on earth? Now it says ‘Murderer.’”
The audience shifted and murmured, more stirred by Mrs. Viridian’s prosaic tone than they would have been by any dramatic announcement from Thalia, who considered the twenty-dollar gold piece she had given Madame Ostrova to slip that second musket ball into Nora Uberti’s reticule money very well spent indeed.
“She’s tricked you.” Nora sprang up. “It’s a child’s trick. She palmed that musket ball when she pretended to load the gun. She planted it on me.”
“She was nowhere near you,” Aristides pointed out dispassionately.
“It was you.” Thalia pointed to Nora Uberti with all the dramatic flourish at her disposal, which was considerable. “You are the murderer.” This was a vital moment in the performance she had planned. Thalia relished the effect her accusation had on the audience. Whatever Nora Uberti said or did, the audience—for the moment—was in the palm of Thalia’s hand. Time to make the most important point clear. “I told you. I was there. I saw you load the rifle that killed Von Faber. You used far too much gunpowder. There was no reason to be safe, to measure it, was there? You knew what was going to happen.”
“You’re a liar.” Nora’s manner was a perfect mix of pity and scorn. “Your friend is the real murderer, but you’re trying to put the blame on me. That’s why you’re playing these stupid tricks.”
Thalia let her tone soften. “Von Faber was a second-class magician and a first-class creep. Why did you stay with him? Why didn’t you just find another line of work?”
“Oh, now you’re my mother, giving me advice,” Nora sneered. “You know how hard it is to find this kind of work. That’s why you’re pestering me. You don’t want my competition.”
Thalia kept right on asking questions. “Why did you use his stage magic act to