The Floating Lady Murder by Daniel Stashower

but each time Harry took a step toward the creature, recapturing its attention with his voice and his fragrant shoes. If Harry’s intention had been to make himself the sole focus of the creature’s predatory instincts, he was succeeding all too well.
    “One day a dark passion seized the evil King Yar,” he continued, “and he ordered that young Ari be brought to him in chains. To keep his bride from harm, the wizard allowed himself to be bound tightly and placed within a sturdy box, which was transported into the presence of the king. When Wilhelmina learned of this, she hurried at once to the royal palace and offered to marry the king in exchange for Ari’s freedom.”
    Harry had now backed onto the forward lip of the stage, and indeed his heels were protruding over the edge into the empty space above the orchestra pit. For a heart-sickening moment it appeared as though he might lose his balance and topple into the pit, but with an effort he recovered himself.
    I heard a tense whisper at my side. “Why doesn’t he just jump?” asked Connell, the theater warden. “Why doesn’t he just leap down into the orchestra pit?”
    “The lion would jump in after him,” I answered impatiently. “Harry would be trapped like a Roman gladiator.”
    From the stage, Harry kept up his steady stream of patter. “More?” he asked the lion. “Very well, but perhaps you might care to step a bit closer, in order to hear the tale more clearly.” From backstage, I strained to keep track of the lion’s every movement. The creature was not quite in position yet, but each step placed Harry in even greater peril. The merest swipe of the beast’s enormous paw would have scattered my brother’s insides across the stage. “Now, then,” said Harry, mastering the alarm he must have felt, “perhaps it would be best if I demonstrated what happened next. As you’ll recall, the lovely Wilhelmina was preparing to exchange her freedom for that of her husband. A brave young lady, certainly.” Harry teetered a bit on the edge of the stage. “Pardon?” he asked, as if the lion had spoken. “What happened next? Well, perhaps you should step a bit closer. Just a bit more. You see, I wouldn’t want you to miss even a fraction of the wondrous spectacle I am about to present. It is entirely sui generis .”
    I tied a length of rope around the red handle I had been clutching, then stepped forward onto the stage so that Harry would be able to see me without taking his eyes off of the lion. At last, everyone appeared to be in position. By now, Harry and the lion were all but touching noses, and he would later tell me that he could feel the creature’s breath travel over him from head to toe. I glanced heavenward, wondering if his scheme could possibly work. My brother had the fastest reflexes of any man I have ever known, but could even he move faster than an adult lion, albeit a groggy one? I looked back at Harry. He gave a tight nod. I looked at Boris. He ran an enormous tongue over his lips.
    “Now then,” Harry was saying, “I shall clap my hands three times, and at the third and last time I ask you to watch closely for— the— effect. A little closer, if you would, kitty. Here, kitty-kitty.”
    Slowly, as though moving underwater, Harry raised his handsand brought them together softly. “One,” he said.
    The lion, sensing movement from behind, bobbed its head twice in rapid succession. The creature’s muscles tensed, sending a visible ripple across its back. Fixing its attention on the stagehands to the rear, the animal took a step away from Harry.
    “He’s out of position,” I whispered. “Come on, Harry...”
    “Two,” said Harry. “Come along, kitty-kitty. Look at me now.”
    The beast turned its head back toward my brother and stepped forward.
    “Three,” my brother said.
    “ Go! ” I shouted, tugging frantically at the rope in my hands.
    Everything happened at once.
    First, from his vantage point at the rear of the