The Magician's Secret (Nancy Drew Diaries #8)(13)

Bess and George made their way over to us. There was nothing to do but sit there and see if Lonestar would be released.

“Looks like you might not make your train Tuesday,” I told Hugo.

“I know.” He sighed. “But I’m not canceling the next show until it’s absolutely certain that we can’t get there in time. The show isn’t for a week after we arrive, so we might be able to pull it off. Maybe I’ll go ahead without Drake. I can set things up and wait for him there.” He glanced at the courthouse. “We’ll see.”

We sat on that bench waiting for an hour. Then two. At the end of the third hour, Bess was done reorganizing her purse and George had maxed out the data minutes on her smartphone. I’d slept a bit on a nearby patch of grass to make up for the night before, but the truth was we were bored.

Even though it wasn’t her job, Officer Fernandez had been bringing us periodic updates and snacks. This time she had bottles of water and granola bars. She was about to leave when Hugo asked, “Want to see some magic?”

Bess brightened. “Sure.”

We all gathered around as I shook off the last bit of my sleepiness with a big yawn.

“Can I borrow your handcuffs?” he asked Officer Fernandez. By now we’d spent so much time together that we knew her first name was Faith, that she drove a convertible, and that she lived across the street from her elderly parents.

The officer put a hand on the silver metal cuffs that hung off her police belt. “I don’t think it’s a good idea. . . .”

“Just for a minute,” Hugo said. “I promise they’ll be returned to you.”

She glanced at the courthouse doors, then to the street. No one was around except for us and a small band of reporters a block away. She pinched her lips together for a short pause before handing Hugo the cuffs.

He passed them to me. “Nancy, check these out. Confirm they are real. I want you to make sure the lock isn’t broken and that there aren’t any hidden release buttons.”

I examined the cuffs and didn’t find anything strange.

“Faith,” Hugo asked Officer Fernandez, “did I borrow these earlier? Have they been in your possession at all times? Is there any way I might have tampered with them?”

She shook her head. “No to all those questions. I’ve had them the whole day.”

“Put them on me,” he told her.

I handed the cuffs back to the officer. She slipped them around Hugo’s outstretched hands and locked them tight.

“Where is the key?” Hugo asked, then laughed. “I probably should have asked that before I had you put them on my wrists.” He jingled the chain now connecting his wrists together as Officer Fernandez held up a ring of keys.

I had to admit, he was a good showman. I just hoped the trick lived up to his jokes.

“Bess,” Hugo asked, “can I use the scarf that’s in your purse?”

“Wow!” Bess exclaimed. “How’d you know I had a scarf???”

Hugo rolled his eyes.

“It doesn’t take a psychic to know that,” I told Bess gently. “We all just watched you clean out your bag.”

Bess smiled sheepishly. “Oh, yeah.” She reached into her purse and gave Hugo a boldly patterned blue scarf.

“Toss it over my hands,” Hugo said, making a scene about how he couldn’t possibly do it by himself since he was wearing cuffs.

Bess covered his hands and the handcuffs.

“Do you have a favorite magic word?” Hugo asked me.

“Abracadabra,” I answered.

“Right. Now, Nancy, wave your hands over the scarf and say your magic word.”

I did as he told me.

“Ta-da!” An instant later Bess’s scarf floated to the ground. Hugo picked it up with his free hands. The locks on the cuffs were both open. He gave the handcuffs back to Officer Fernandez and told her to examine them again.

“Well done,” she told him. “Remind me not to arrest you.”

“How’d you do it?” George asked. I could see the wheels in her brain turning. “Are you double-jointed? Did you put grease on your hands to slip them out? Did you pickpocket the officer’s key?”

At that Officer Fernandez checked her key ring. She still had the key.

“It’s magic,” Hugo said with a chuckle.

“So, you’re not just the show’s manager and a security guard . . . you’re a magician, too?” I asked.

“Not like Drake.” Hugo shrugged. “Drake’s art is entirely based on distraction and misdirection.”

“Distraction and misdirection,” I repeated. “That’s magic based on illusion.” I was glad that George had taught me about magicians.

Hugo nodded, then went on, “I wanted to be like him at first, but I couldn’t figure out how to attract a crowd. I tried doing street shows for a while but never made more than a few bucks and a bus token.” He gave Bess her scarf. “All I ever wanted was to be involved in magic. So when the chance came to work for Drake Lonestar, I jumped at it. I tied my dreams to Drake’s, and he’s done well for us both.”

“What about your own dreams?” Bess asked. “After all, that was a really good trick. People would totally pay to see you perform.”