Death out of Thin Air Read Online Free Page A

Pat hesitated.
    â€œAt the zoo, once,” she went on. “I saw a bat. Its face was horrible. The thing that climbed out the window had a face like that!”
    Inspector Church groaned audibly.
    In the corridor outside the elevator door slammed and running feet streaked toward the dressing room. A second later the doorway was filled with cops and detectives.
    An onlooker who had never before seen the Homicide Squad in action would have thought that the next half hour was a confused bedlam of hurrying officials. Detectives combed the rooms, flash bulbs exploded, fingerprint powder flew in a haze, the medical examiner came, and the body left. But beneath it all there was the expert direction of Inspector Church and the calm confidence of men who knew their jobs.
    This had been going on for perhaps five or ten minutes when Jerry, the call-boy, put his head in at the door, his eyes round with excitement.
    â€œYou’re on again, next, Don,” he announced.
    Diavolo nodded. “All right with you if I finish dressing?” he asked the Inspector.
    Church looked at him suspiciously. “Where do you think you’re going?”
    â€œOn stage. I’ve got a twenty minute routine to go through.”
    â€œNot now you don’t,” Church said. “You’re going to headquarters with me.”
    Diavolo lifted one eyebrow in a Satanic grimace. “An arrest, Inspector?” he asked.
    â€œYeah,” Church replied. “How did you guess?” He turned his back and threw a command at one of his detectives.
    Inspector Church was a man who hated not to understand things and Don had divined that fact from his attitude. He asked quietly, “On exactly what grounds, Inspector? Just because you don’t like magicians?”
    â€œThat’s one good reason,” Church said. “Magicians always annoy me. The other reason is that you’re the guy who bumped the dame off. You might just as well break down now and tell me why — because I’m going to find out!”
    â€œBut Miss Collins actually saw the — the bat, Inspector.”
    â€œThat won’t wash, Diavolo. I wasn’t born yesterday. I saw your act a few weeks ago, and I saw the mental telepathy stunt you worked with Miss Collins. She’s blindfolded on the stage and, when you go into the audience and take a gander at somebody’s watch or a coin, she comes out with the manufacturer’s number or the date.
    â€œIf you could do that you could have tipped her off, as soon as she came in this room, to give me that spiel about a bat. I know how it’s done, too. You’re both hooked up with vest pocket radio sets. I saw a movie—”
    â€œThe movies aren’t the best places in the world to get an education, Inspector. I’m surprised at you.” 2
    The theater manager, Col. Ernst Kaselmeyer, an ex-Prussian officer with a straight back and a tummy that even the girdle he wore couldn’t quite conceal, blew in from the hall where he had been quietly going mad. He had overheard the word: “Arrest.”
    Kaselmeyer, tearing his already sparse hair, promptly fought a duel of words with Church. His booming voice made the Inspector retreat a bit. Finally the latter turned to Diavolo. “You do any of those vanishing tricks in this act?” he asked.
    â€œNo,” the Colonel boomed, “No vanishes. And you can have him right afterward—if you get him back in time for the eight o’clock show. I can’t be losing money like this. Those people come to see Diavolo. They—”
    â€œOkay,” Church growled. “But I’m staying right with him every minute. While he’s dressing, too.”
    Diavolo grinned. “But my dressing room has only the one door and no windows,” he said. “And not a single trapdoor or sliding panel. The building manager put his foot down on that.”
    â€œI’m still not taking any chances,”