Magician by Timothy C. Phillips Page B

it’s none of my business, mister, but if I was you, I’d drop the whole damn thing. I’m in agreement with Sal. Whoever nabbed that kid, they did it and got clean away. But I wish you the best of luck, anyway.”
    He went out, leaving just me, and Sal, who sat looking at me with a bemused, if slightly hostile expression.
    “I sort of got the feeling there was something more you wanted to ask,” he said, with just a hint of irritation.
    “Kind of.”
    “What’ll it be, mister? I sort of thought we’d covered everything. And it isn’t like it hasn’t all been covered before.”
    “I promise I won’t keep you long, Sal. This question isn’t about the three of you, necessarily.”
    “Okay. But in that case, I really don’t see how I can help.”
    “Well, this is sort of a funny question.”
    “Great, go ahead. I could use the laughs.”
    “It’s about the party the year before Georgia disappeared. Her eighth birthday.”
    Sal fidgeted a little in his chair. “So, that’s why you asked the question about us drinking. I guess I had a suspicion.”
    “I figured that you might. I saw that video, Sal. The atmosphere was sort of a strange one, later on. I noticed the parents were drinking. They didn’t do that the following year. Why? Toward the end, I saw Mr. Champion asleep by the pool. At that point, Mrs. Champion wasn’t there anymore. That’s hardly any way to chaperone a group of children.”
    “Yeah, yeah. I remember, all right. About Mrs. Champion, I mean. She went upstairs to lie down. She came back down later. She was back by the time the other parents arrived to pick up their kids.”
    “Why did she go upstairs? Was she sick?”
    Sal attempted to field a sheepish grin, but it died before it got very far. “She isn’t a drinker. I think she had one too many.”
    “How drunk were you guys?” I sat down in Joe’s vacant chair and scooted a little closer to Sal. “Did you drink a lot?”
    “Look, don’t get the idea we’re a bunch of drunks, because it isn’t so. I don’t drink much, mister, and never on the job. Except that day, I mean. That day was just weird. First, the Champions started drinking, then it just seemed we were. Maybe things did get a little out of hand. But that was a year before the girl disappeared. Who cares?”
    “I care, Sal. Because I think something might have happened that day that has a bearing on her disappearance.”
    “Like what?” Something in Sal’s eyes told me he was getting nervous.
    Go easy. Let him keep talking.
    “Who is the clown in red on the videotape?” I edged his chair a little closer.  
    “Why isn’t he with you guys any more?”
    Sal looked down and let out a long breath. “Aw, Jesus. ”
    Sal looked up after a time, and I saw something else in his eyes, beyond the nervousness he’d seen before. It was something I’d seen in other people’s eyes, years before, when I had been a policeman, and many times since. It was the look that people in the theater called tragic recognition.
    “You think he was the one?”
    “Sal, aside from seeing him on a video that is three and a half years old, I don’t know a thing about the guy. You want to tell me something about him?”
    Sal looked past me, then bent over in the chair again, as if he were about to be sick. His voice was just a whisper.
    “Samson Fain.”
    “That’s his real name?”
    “Yeah. He was a smart kid. Really smart.” Sal raised his head, and a smile brightened his features. “I mean he was big, like a bear, but really gentle. He loved kids. And they loved him! He was really good. He knew magic tricks, all the old comedy bits that keep the kids rolling. He was dedicated, too. He would stay up late working out new gags. I’d never seen anything like him. He brought us in a lot of business.”
    While he spoke, there had been a light in his eyes, as though he were talking about a favorite son who had done well for himself. Now the light went out, and the smile