Smoke & Mirrors Read Online Free PDF Page B

here. He can make about anything disappear.”
    “And I always get them back,” Hamp added.
    “The Great Memphister,” Estelle said, nodding. “That why he wears that cape he bought at the magic store in Memphis. You wouldn’t believe what those little thingamajigs cost.”
    “It’s the Great Mephisto, ” Hamp corrected.
    “He can sure make his mama’s money disappear with them tricks he buys,” Estelle said, laughing.
    “I use my own allowance,” he said defensively.
    “That’s what allowances are for,” Leigh said, smiling.
    Brad looked through his notebook. “Sherry came yesterday morning just before your mother left for Baton Rouge. At around seven last night, Sherry drove you to town to the video store and y’all got two movies. You both watched them until around midnight. There were no phone calls or visitors during that time. And you didn’t see or hear anything out of the ordinary.”
    “Except for Alphonse Jefferson at the Shell station,” Hamp said.
    Brad made a notation about the encounter. “The Shell station.”
    Hamp nodded. “Yay-ah, Mr. Barnett.”
    “Yes, Sheriff Barnett,” Leigh chided.
    “Yes, Sheriff Barnett,” Hamp said.
    “Stop playing with your food,” Leigh said.
    Hamp frowned and put the spoon down on his plate.
    “And you were asleep until the gunshot woke you up?” Brad asked.
    “Yeah. It was real loud. I heard Estelle screaming and then I came down and she made me get in the utility room while she called nine-one-one. I didn’t see Sherry.”
    “Thanks, Hamp,” Brad said, patting the boy’s shoulder.
    “Leigh, why did you drive to Baton Rouge?” he asked, turning to her.
    “To bring Cyn home for Christmas break.”
    “I mean, why did you drive all the way to Baton Rouge instead of letting her fly home?”
    “Good question,” Cyn said, frowning.
    Leigh looked at Brad like he was an idiot. “Do you have any idea what it costs to fly from Baton Rouge to Memphis? The cotton is already ginned. Brad, have you ever known me to waste money?”
    “There’s meals and a motel room and time away from the place,” he said.
    “Motel?” Cyn said, laughing. “Mom spent the night in my room at the dorm and she made ham sandwiches for the trip.”
    Cyn’s cell phone buzzed and she took it out of her pocket and looked at the display. With well-practiced thumbs she typed a message and closed it.
    “Not wasting money is why I still own Six Oaks and not some damned conglomeration of suit-wearing, citified windbags who don’t know a cotton boll from a golf ball,” Leigh said flatly.

9
    PIERCE MULVANE LEANED BACK IN HIS CHAIR AND gazed affectionately at the framed Walter Anderson watercolors of Gulf Coast wildlife that decorated his office. Anderson’s work—sloppy and unfinished looking, in Mulvane’s opinion—had appreciated enormously over the past few years. Pierce wouldn’t have purchased them himself, and he technically didn’t own them, since they had been part of the purchase of the Castle casino. The fixtures, including all existing equipment, had remained with the structure as part of the sale agreement. He didn’t know anything about art, but the increased value endeared the paintings to him. He had made a wise choice by talking Klein into buying this marginally profitable, garishly designed casino in north Mississippi, instead of building one on the Gulf Coast.
    Mulvane had been employed by Royale Resorts International for twelve years. The Castle had been his idea. He had convinced the owner, Kurt Klein, to purchase the run-down casino to see if the area was viable for a major investment in a future RRI self-contained billion-dollar casino resort—the likes of which had never been seen in Tunica County. After the new resort was built, RRI would sell the existing casino to another group and recoup their investment, plus pocket the profits it had made. Or they might even retain the casino as an operation that catered to low rollers. The Roundtable