The Linking Rings Read online

  Praise for the Eli Marks Mystery Series

  “An intriguing cross between noir and cozy, with fascinating details about magic tricks and plenty of quirky characters. An easy, enjoyable read for mystery buffs seeking a bit of an escape from the usual crime fiction fare.”

  – Library Journal

  “A finely-tuned, diabolical, sneaky, smart, stylish mix of magic and mayhem that plunges our hero Eli through a tangled web of danger and deceit that’ll keep you guessing.”

  – Steve Spill,

  Magician and Author of I Lie For Money

  “With twists and turns, flurries of romance, and a cast of characters that seem to be the unholy spawn of The Maltese Falcon and The Third Man, The Miser’s Dream keeps the pages turning and the reader delighted from start to finish.”

  – Jeffrey Hatcher,

  Screenwriter, Mr. Holmes

  “I loved this book. From beginning to end I was hooked. The story is fantastic and the cast leaves you wanting to know more. I can’t wait to read the next book in the series.”

  – Bookschellves

  “This is an instant classic, in a league with Raymond Chandler, Dashiell Hammett and Arthur Conan Doyle.”

  – Rosebud Book Reviews

  “Has many tricks up its sleeve as its likeable magician-hero. As the body count rises, so does the reading pleasure.”

  – Dennis Palumbo,

  Author of the Daniel Rinaldi Mystery Series

  “The author does a fantastic job juggling the separate plots and keeping readers’ minds thoroughly engaged…and the pure entertainment of the industry will leave all readers hoping that there will be a ‘number three’ very soon.”

  – Suspense Magazine

  “The Ambitious Card is intelligently written and...entirely engrossing.”

  – Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine

  “A wonderfully engaging, delightfully tricky bit of mystery. Fans of magic will delight in John Gaspard’s artful use of the world of magicians, onstage and offstage. It’s a great story and great fun!”

  – Jim Steinmeyer,

  Author of Hiding the Elephant: How

  Magicians Invented the Impossible and Learned to Disappear

  “A real winner of magical proportions. Filled with snappy, delightful dialogue and plenty of sleight-of-hand humor, Gaspard’s latest mystery in the Eli Marks series does not disappoint.”

  – Jessie Chandler,

  Author of the Shay O’Hanlon Series

  “The deftly-plotted mystery is enriched by Eli’s relationships with his ex-wife, her new husband, his old-school stage magician Uncle Harry, and an interesting collection of people and places in and around St. Paul…This stylish novel is filled with interesting details, snappy dialogue, and appealing characters.”

  – More Than a Review

  “This story is very well-written and fun to read. I would definitely read another Eli Marks Mystery.”

  – A Simple Taste for Reading

  The Eli Marks Mystery Series

  by John Gaspard

  THE AMBITIOUS CARD (#1)

  THE BULLET CATCH (#2)

  THE MISER’S DREAM (#3)

  THE LINKING RINGS (#4)

  Short Stories

  THE INVISIBLE ASSISTANT

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  Copyright

  THE LINKING RINGS

  An Eli Marks Mystery

  Part of the Henery Press Mystery Collection

  First Edition

  Trade paperback edition | January 2018

  Henery Press

  www.henerypress.com

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever, including Internet usage, without written permission from Henery Press, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  Copyright © 2018 by John Gaspard

  Author photograph by Bill Arnold

  This is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Trade Paperback ISBN-13: 978-1-63511-284-9

  Digital epub ISBN-13: 978-1-63511-285-6

  Kindle ISBN-13: 978-1-63511-286-3

  Hardcover ISBN-13: 978-1-63511-287-0

  Printed in the United States of America

  For John Fenn—thank you, Maestro!

  We’ll be in constant touch.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Special thanks to these folks for their help in bringing Eli Marks and his world to life: Teller, Tina Lenert, Dustin Stinnett, Jim Cunningham, Bill Arnold, Amy Shomshak, Steven Paul Carlson, Scott Wells, Suzanne, Joe Gaspard, George Campbell, and Amy Oriani.

  “Sometimes magic is just someone spending more time on something than anyone else might reasonably expect.”

  — Teller

  Chapter 1

  There were many attractions I had hoped to see on my first visit to London. The inner workings of the city’s jail system had not been one of them.

  Especially on day one.

  When planning the trip, I had assumed my biggest concern would be jet lag. I was wrong. While it proved to be a real issue, it came in at a distant second to raising bail.

  At the moment, though, jet lag was all I had on my mind as I suppressed yet another yawn. Coming to The Magic Circle directly from the airport had been Harry’s idea, because his plan was to spend as little time in London as possible. Consequently, all I had seen of the city so far had been the interior of Heathrow airport, some blurry views of a rainy metropolis from within a careening cab, and now the second floor meeting room of the venerable magician’s club, The Magic Circle, located somewhere in the mysterious heart of London.

  “Every time you yawn, you make me yawn,” Harry growled in a poor imitation of a stage whisper.

  “I’ve noticed that,” I said, doing a considerably better job of keeping my voice down. “It’s kind of cool.”

  “Easy for you to say,” he said. “You don’t have to go on stage in forty-five minutes.”

  That was true. My role for the evening’s gala event was strictly that of an observer. Harry’s responsibilities were far more substantial, and he leaned forward to listen closely to the instructions that were being given to him and the evening’s other performer by the club’s Executive Director.

  The room was beginning to fill with magicians, and Harry and his soon-to-be stage partner were at the top of that particular food chain. The reactions they were getting exemplified an odd phenomenon I’ve experienced through a life spent observing my magician uncle: while in the presence of normal people—that is to say, non-magicians—Harry was looked upon as your run-of-the-mill cranky and charming old man.

  But let him walk into a room full of magicians, and it’s as if the Dali Lama has just arrived. He was, as he liked to put it, an occasional rock star.

  Although at this moment, he was one of about a half-dozen Dali Lamas in the room. It was a virtual Who’s Who of magicians of a certain age. But right now my focus was on the two who were about to go on stage.

  I turned and looked at the other magician, a man I had never met.
Of course, I had certainly heard of Oskar Korhonen. He was a highly skilled magician from Finland who was world-renowned for his dexterity with a deck of cards. Such dexterity was all the more astonishing because Oskar was missing his left arm. A childhood accident had appeared to doom his dream of making a living as a magician, but his perseverance had clearly paid off. His one-handed shuffle was a thing of beauty, made all the more poignant in terms of card shuffling because it was really his only option.

  He stood next to Harry on slightly wobbly legs, wearing his customary red checkered plaid tuxedo, a fashion statement that made him instantly recognizable within the magician world and certainly a curiosity outside of it.

  “Mitä?” he asked, leaning forward to hear better, as the multiple conversations in the room were starting to build to something just this side of a din.

  “Why don’t we move this conversation into the theater?” the Executive Director suggested loudly, recognizing the room was only going to get noisier. He gestured toward the door, and the two older magicians made their way through the room, the growing crowd parting respectfully to let them pass. When they reached the doorway, Harry stopped, bowed slightly, and motioned to his fellow magician.

  “After you, doctor,” Harry said with a wide smile.

  “No, no, doctor, after you,” Oskar replied in his charming Finnish accent. Harry finally acquiesced and went first, followed by Oskar, who gave him a warm pat on the back.

  I was puzzled by the exchange, as I knew for a fact Harry wasn’t a doctor in any sense of the term, and I had never heard of Oskar Korhonen being referred to in this manner. I made a mental note to ask Harry about it later. Since I was now alone in a crowded room of strangers, I turned to my traditional method for dealing with new people: I ignored them all.

  Instead, I began to investigate the display cases lining a far wall. As it turned out, it was to be the first—and least deadly—of a number of investigations I’d be taking part in that week.

  The beauty of The Magic Circle, I quickly discovered, was that there was no need to pretend to look at the displays to avoid talking to strangers. The exhibits were genuinely fascinating, each one offering at least one treasure. At the first display case, I was stunned to discover the crisp white glove magician and ventriloquist, Jay Marshall, had fashioned into his long-time stage partner, Lefty. I snapped a photo of the famous glove and texted it to my friend Nathan back at home, recognizing this act alone qualified me as a certified magic geek. He replied seconds later, and I could read between the lines of his two-word text message (Wow. Cool.) that he was just as excited by the find as I was.

  I became increasingly enthralled with each display as I examined them. Moving in closer, I read a program from a stage show by Chung Ling Soo (a.k.a. William Robinson), purportedly from the performance in which he died from a mishandled Bullet Catch routine. I then was captivated by posters and handbills from celebrated comedian and magician, Tommy Cooper, who had also died on stage in the middle of a performance.

  “That particular display is a bit on the morbid side, I’m afraid,” said a soft and refined voice behind me. “But be sure to get a good look at the Cups and Balls set in the next case. A rare item, not to be missed.”

  I turned and was stunned to see I was being addressed by none other than Laurence Baxter, a legend in the magic community. He was shorter than I had anticipated but just as dapper and natty as he appeared on TV. And make no mistake, Baxter had appeared on British TV more than any other magician in the last forty years. The closest magic equivalent in the US might be David Copperfield, but a better analog would probably be Johnny Carson in terms of name recognition and national adoration. Although, as Uncle Harry had often commented, Baxter’s fame did not extend much past Dover; however, throughout Great Britain he was a certified superstar. And despite his advancing years, he still looked trim and full of energy.

  “Cups and Balls,” I repeated, trying not to sound like a star-struck geek. “In the next case.”

  Baxter was clearly accustomed to this reaction from the public (laymen and magicians alike), so he gently turned me toward the next case and indicated a worn and tarnished set of brass cups, each one displayed with a rather faded red ball atop it.

  “Doesn’t look like much, does it?” he said as I leaned forward to get a closer look at the set.

  Not sure if this was a trick question or not, I mumbled an indecipherable response. He continued on as if what I said had made sense.

  “That, my young friend, is the very set of Cups and Balls the Duke of Cornwall used when he applied for admission to The Magic Circle.”

  I nodded in sympathetic agreement for a few moments, then realized I could cover my gross ignorance no longer.

  “Forgive me,” I said. “Should I know who that is?”

  He smiled a devilish grin. “‘Round these parts,” he replied, sporting a comical American accent, “He is more commonly known as His Royal Majesty, Charles, Prince of Wales.”

  “Oh. My,” I said.

  “Indeed.”

  I looked at the worn props. “How did he do on the test?” I asked.

  Baxter considered his words carefully before speaking. “Well, he was granted admission, let’s just leave it at that.”

  I turned to him. “Are you being diplomatic?”

  “Always.” He gave me a practiced smile and put out his hand. “I’m Larry, by the way. Larry Baxter.”

  “I know,” I said, glancing down at his hand while he shook mine. “Everyone knows.”

  He shrugged modestly. “I’ve learned to never make assumptions. And you are?”

  I had been distracted looking at his hand and stammered a response.

  “Oh, sorry, Eli Marks,” I said. “You have the same ring as my uncle,” I added, gesturing at his right hand.

  “Well, if your uncle is Harry Marks, that would make perfect sense,” he said, holding up his hand and admiring the ring. “We both got our rings at the same time. All of us did.”

  “All of us?”

  “The Magnificent Magi,” he said, moving to a display case in the corner and gesturing for me to follow. “There we are, in all our glory. Such as it was.”

  He indicated a slightly faded black-and-white eight-by-ten photo on the display’s second shelf. I leaned in for a closer look and immediately recognized a much, much younger version of Uncle Harry’s beaming face. He was surrounded by several other young men, each smiling up at the camera during what appeared to be a dinner or a party of some sort. Upon further inspection, I also recognized younger versions of Laurence Baxter and Oskar Korhonen, each holding up a right hand to display their matching rings.

  “We were going to go with the other hand for the rings, but we opted for the right in deference to Oskar. Didn’t want the old boy to feel left out.”

  “What’s the occasion?” I asked as I scanned the other smiling faces.

  “We were all admitted to The Magic Circle at the same time, quite a group of us, so we decided to call ourselves The Magnificent Magi and celebrated the occasion with matching rings. Silly, perhaps, but I still wear the ring for sentimental reasons. I think all the boys do,” he added, glancing at the photo. “Except poor old Archie, of course.”

  He gestured toward one fellow in the photo: a long-faced young man who was either feeling badly at that evening’s photo opportunity, or who always sported a sad and sour expression.

  “What happened to Archie?”

  He clucked his tongue. “Tragic, really. He died,” he said, then moved in closer and lowered his voice. “Suicide. Terrible business.”

  He turned toward the room and shifted his mood, once again becoming the upbeat and buoyant character everyone knew. “But that’s in the past, and tonight is all about the future and celebrating two performers who have not graced this stage in too long a time.”

  I nodded in agreement. �
�Harry was really thrilled to get the invitation,” I said as we looked out at all the magicians, young and old, who were filling up the room. Waiters had started to move through the space with glasses of champagne, and Laurence snagged two as the tray sailed past us.

  “It will be delightful,” he said, thrusting one of the glasses into my hand. “And, as I said, long overdue.”

  A thought occurred to me, and I realized Laurence might have the answer I was looking for.

  “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Always.”

  “I noticed Harry and Oskar addressed each other as ‘Doctor,’” I said. “Is that also a shared trait among the Magnificent Magi?”

  I could be wrong, but I think Baxter came this close to doing a classic spit take, then gave me a pained smile and shook his head.

  “Are they still doing that? Some jokes will never die, I suppose.” He took a more complete sip of his champagne. “It is a practice common to all the Magi with the exception of myself,” he said. “You see, I read Medicine at University and was headed toward a career as a doctor before the magic bug took complete hold of me. Early on, I made the mistake of calling myself Dr. Baxter—I do have the degree, after all—and the lads have never let me forget it.

  “Consequently, all the Magi refer to each other as ‘Doctor.’ Except me. None of them call me ‘Doctor.’ They never have, silly buggers.” He smiled, downed his drink, and placed it on another passing tray. “Lovely to have met you, Eli,” he said, once again putting out his hand.

  “The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Baxter,” I said in return. “Or should I say Dr. Baxter?”