Rex Redondo waited backstage at the Pair-a-Dice, ready for his second show. By ten o'clock most of the audience had eaten dinner and been liberally anointed with drinks from the bar. He had a different rhythm for the late crowd, unlike the one for the earlier show.
Dapper in his pinstripe suit, he tugged at the silk tie, then at his shirt, checking the gold cufflinks. They'd been given to him by a former girlfriend who had plenty of money. His initials, RR, had been engraved in a fancy script.
A knock came at the door. Viv stuck her head inside. "Ready for our plan to unfold?"
He turned from the mirror, letting a low whistle escape from his lips. "You look stunning," he told her. A peacock-blue cocktail dress skimmed her body. Sleeveless with a slightly scooped neckline, she had stepped out of her coastal grandma look into date-night-at-the-casino attire.
"Oh, this old thing?" Viv teased. To her credit, she seemed quite at ease with his admiring glance. She's coming out of her shell, Rex thought. Maybe my attention isn't embarrassing her like it used to.
Peeling his eyes away, he turned to the mirror to tug at the knot of his tie. "Have you packed a bag for our big night in the casita?"
He didn't turn around. Instead he watched her reflection in the mirror. She smiled tentatively. "I'm ready. Right after the show I'll meet you back here."
"Then we can head out to the casita together," he added. One look at her told him that she had something on her mind. "I hope you aren't afraid of being seen with me, you know, by the neighbors."
"Oh no," she said right away. "I just don't know what I'd say if someone asks. We both have our own homes. There's no real reason for us to rent the casita for the evening."
"Oh, I could think of a couple of great reasons," he said in a low voice. "Couples spice up their sex life with a change of scenery."
"Of course there is that," Viv admitted. "It has crossed my mind."
"In a good way?" He felt his pulse quicken.
"Let’s just say, not in a bad way." At that moment her phone pinged. She read the text.
"They're here," she announced. "Second row center. Sutton saw them. They took your offer."
Rex tugged at his tie. He assured himself that no matter what happened that night, time spent with Viv was what he wanted. He'd work out the rest eventually.
"I offered them last-minute free tickets and an open tab at the bar. That's a pretty good hook," Rex admitted.
"You sent the offer to Beverly Nelson right after lunch?" she asked.
"I did. I included condolences in the email. I told her that I'm an old pal of Carmine’s, so she wouldn't be uncomfortable. I also convinced her this would be a good thing to do, to keep her mind off of her grief."
"But you had no way of knowing she'd bring Langford." Viv held up her phone, "Until now."
"I had a good hunch they'd come together. And if they didn't, I'd at least get to connect with her. Just so you know, it's common practice for mentalists to invite people to the show. Especially recent widows."
"That actually figures. It makes things easier if you already know who your mark is." Viv glared at him.
Rex looked at his shoes, absorbing the tone of her voice. "When you say 'mark,' I'm a little embarrassed. But you're right. Anything for the performance. That's my motto." But his words sounded hollow, even to himself. He buttoned the front of his tux to avoid Viv's glare of disapproval.
Almost show time, he told himself. Focus. Once he straightened his tie again, he felt more in charge. He’d used that movement with the tie for years. To remind himself to leave Rex Redondo the man behind and replace him with Redondo the mentalist.
He flung open his dressing room door, ushering Viv into the hallway toward the exit and stage entrance. "I'm going this way," he pointed.
Viv nodded. "Break a leg."
Rex took the stage to scattered applause. Usually the first thing he did was to take a moment. Adjusting the lights gave him time to locate where his marks sat in the audience.
But tonight he looked for Viv.
The blue dress made her stand out. She'd tucked herself into the perfect seat. Rex had explained to her earlier, "Sit in the back row where the spotlight won't find you. They rarely take in that part of the theater."
Even from the stage he could see Viv nod at him, acknowledging his glance. Then she drew a black shawl around her shoulders, hiding the color of her dress from view. She looked very put together and yet unremarkable. A middle-aged woman having a night out on her own.
Once he'd located her, he got down to business. He spotted the couple in the free seats right away. The woman with the well-coiffed platinum hair crossed her legs, her dress inching up to her thigh. A tattoo of a heart was visible on her ankle. Silver bracelets, stacked along her wrist, glinted in the stage light.
The widow Carmine, he immediately assessed, is on a date night. It only took one glance at her high heels to confirm.
Now he took in her companion. Langford was a bit more casual, wearing a gray suit coat and slacks, a shirt with no tie, unbuttoned at the neck. He seemed nervous, looking around to each side, taking in the crowd with side glances.
Rex knew the type. He's used to casing the room mobster-style. I bet he's uncomfortable sitting so close to the front. That's why he looks over his shoulder so often.
Rex, remaining silent and observant, felt the crowd growing restless. They'd come for a show and he needed to provide. So he transitioned into his warmup. With the notes Sutton had sent him via text, he already had enough information. No need to stall. He had plenty to work with.
He hadn't planned on starting with Beverly Nelson. That would be too obvious. Instead he asked, "Anyone in the audience have a chihuahua whose name begins with a W?"
The question made the audience chuckle. Except for one guy, who stood up, calling out in an excited voice, "We have Wally right here. In my wife's purse!" He lifted the dog from the oversized bag and held him in the air. The audience, realizing the show had finally begun, chuckled as the tension in the room erased.
"That's the one," Rex said with a smile. "Some people don't know, but I read pets. So bring the little guy on stage and I'll tell you what he's thinking."
With more applause the man scooted down the aisle, holding Wally to his chest. The spotlight followed him as he approached the stage. Rex didn't take hold of the dog, but he rested his hand on his head. Wally showed no alarm at the strange man's touch. "Wally loves dog treats, especially small ones that smell like beef," Rex said.
"He kinda likes those," the man looked skeptical. "But they're not his favorite."
"I see." Rex's face drew a blank. But then he smiled, pushing away any doubts. "I actually know what Wally loves. Look what I have here." Rex reached into his pocket and pulled out a square of Swiss cheese. The crowd gasped.
"Yip!" Wally lunged from his owner's grasp.
Rex held the slice away from the dog. He peeled off a bite and offered it to Wally with an open palm. The crowd approved with loud claps as the dog took the cheese.
"How did you know Swiss is Wally's favorite?" The man looked very impressed.
"Don't forget, I'm a mentalist." Rex grinned to the sound of laughter and more applause.
After that he knew he had the crowd on his side. He worked with two more people before getting to his main target. One girl had broken up with her boyfriend, and Rex assured her that the ex would be miserable and that she'd be happy very soon with a better guy.
Another man who had a lisp was told by Rex that his speech would bring him sympathy from a very attractive woman.
And then Rex slipped his hands into his pockets. He ducked his head as if listening and then held one hand up to quiet the audience. "I feel someone's here. They're visiting us from the other side. Give me a moment of silence to see what he wants."
The crowd hushed as Rex closed his eyes. Soon he moved his head to one side then the other, back and forth as if trying to shake off a fly. When his eyes opened his voice had shifted, each word connected and trance-like. "I've got it. A man who's recently deceased. He wants to talk to his wife. A name starting with a B. Is she here?"
The spotlight drifted over the audience, searching for the right person. Finally it settled on Beverly, who had tentatively raised her hand. Her eyes glistened with tears.
"It's me. I'm a widow."
"Your name?" Rex came closer. His voice dropped, sounding intimate.
"Beverly." She sniffed. "Is it my Carmine? Is that who's talking to you?"
The audience remained quiet, waiting for Rex's next revelation.
"Does your Carmine have a gunshot wound in the middle of his forehead? Right here?" Rex pointed to his own forehead.
The widow's eyes flew open. Tears streamed down her face. Her chin jutted forward. "Yes!" she cried out. And then even louder she begged, "Don't be mad at me, Carmine!"
Beverly bent over, overcome by sobbing as everyone in the audience watched. Peter Langford eased his arm around her shoulders. Then he lifted her to her feet with one hand under her elbow, using his other arm to block out the glare of the spotlight. "Who do you think you are, preying on the grief of this poor widow?" His anger made the audience gasp.
Still clutching her elbow, he dragged Beverly down the aisle. The spotlight followed as the crowd hissed. Once the couple left through the exit, the spotlight made its way back to Rex. He'd put on his calmest expression, returning his hands to his pockets.
"So you can see, ladies and gentlemen, not everyone leaves the show feeling happy. And that goes to show us: Don't underestimate the recently deceased. Their spirits can linger as long as necessary, just to make sure justice is done."
Wild applause came over the audience as they acknowledged his words.
Rex bowed his head, taking their appreciation as his due. When he looked up, he spoke with a grin. "Tell my manager to alert the box office. Those two may want a refund."
He finished his set with a couple jokes and another reading. By the time he left the stage, he felt satisfied.
My plan worked. What with Carmine's ghost haunting them, those two will be very nervous from here on out. It's obvious to me that one or both of them are guilty. I'm just not sure who pulled the trigger.