Find the Lady (part 4)

As with everyday, I woke up at eight o clock in the morning. I couldn't tell you why I did that, it was just what I'd always done. I climbed out of bed, cleaned my teeth and face and dressed in a blue suit. I checked my voice mails and listened impatiently as the receptionist from the therapists explained as to how they were going to have to ask for more money, for each of my sessions. The next message was from the theatre, saying how there'd been several complaints from one of the James about the way I paid him. I had lots of people called James working for me, it meant that there was a high probability that if I said James to everyone, I'd one day get it right. I'm face blind you see, but I'll get to that later.

I grabbed my blue suit jacket and ran out of my apartment towards the theatre. I arrived at the theatre, a bit out of breath, and after regaining my composure, walked toward the door. I entered, nodding to the man on the desk and then continued down the corridor- nicknamed the road- and towards the main auditorium. I mean this in the nicest way possible, but I don't really like the hubbub of a busy theatre. Because of my face blindness, I have to remember who people are by listening to their voices, and other things like that, but in a busy theatre, it's so loud you can't hear them properly.

I continued to the stage and threw off my jacket, walking up the steps to the side and onto the wings, where the technical James, as specified by his name badge, was setting up the trapeze, which I used for the Russian twins transformation.

We spent most of the morning rehearsing, finishing off with the pigs will fly illusion. The pig was lowered from the ceiling, going into the cabinet which I then adjusted the dial on. The cabinet hummed and opened slightly at the bottom. A tray of bacon slid out, arranged perfectly into the shape of the three of hearts. I went onto the wings and took a barmcake and a bottle of brown sauce. One of the men came onto the stage and took the pig, taking it away to the props room, whilst I ate my bacon sandwich.

I finished it off, a lovely meal indeed, then decided to amuse the technical staff with an impromptu illusion. I finished off the trick then went back to rehearsal. We were perfecting the dictionary illusion, one of my personal favourites, when I realised how lousy the cut was for the prediction.

"No, no, no, no, no!" I shouted. "The cut needs to be quicker, more realistic, more, more, honest!"

Someone from the side of the stage walked on. "The footage isn't that good. It's harder to cut than you'd think, Miles."

I leant over to the mans badge and stared. It was technical James. "Right, James. That's fine. If you could get the camera working again, we'll re film it and then reset the entirety of the illusion!"

James bowed his head in shame. "I'm sorry Miles, but-"

I interrupted. "When I first started out, I had half a coin and a few bits of string. You know what that's made me learn?"

He shook his head. "No, Miles."

"We have to work with what we've got." I calmed down exceptionally quickly. "That's all. Ok. Now, go sort it." I stared at the face on his shirt, wondering who it was. "Who's that on your t shirt?"

"It's you, Miles." James walked off.

"Oh, of course. Now, can you tell me who you are and why on Earth you don't have a name badge?" I turned to the man standing at the bottom of the stage. He was wearing a policeman's uniform, but it was still possible he wasn't a policeman.

He ran up the steps to join me and pulled a warrant badge to me, flashing in my face. "DS Powell. I'm very sorry to say, Mr Fletcher, but you're under arrest." I guess that meant he was a policeman.

"Whatever for?" How could I be under arrest?

DS Powell replied, holding up a picture of someone I didn't recognise. I never recognise anyone. "Suspicion of the kidnap of this woman. Can you tell me who she is?" 

I smiled at him patronisingly and, with my well known charm and theatrically, declared, "I've never seen her before in my life, officer."

"You meet with her three times each month!" The officer cried.

"It doesn't mean I haven't seen her. Who is she?"

"Your therapist."

"Really? She's been kidnapped?"

"Yes. And we believe you're guilty."

I came without a fuss, down to the station and after some questioning, I said, "Do you know why I see a therapist?"

His reply, of course, was no. So I sent him off to find my therapy notes.

He assigned me an officer and went off. The officer, who had heard I was a magician, asked me to teach him a magic trick. I taught him one of the first magic tricks I'd ever known. I taught him the gypsy shuffle then explained how to incorporate it with another trick where a spectators card was found in someones shoe. The door opened, but I didn't notice. "And then you remove the ace from your left shoe. Hey presto and your friends are amazed."

"Excuse me." The person at the door interrupted.

"Hello, who are you?" I asked.

"Mr Fletcher, it's me, DS Powell."

"Oh of course, terribly sorry."

"You're free to go, on the condition that you stick around here. We may need future interviews with you."

"Ok. Thank you very much, DS Powell. See you around." I bumped into someone and apologised, walking out of the police station and onto the street. A girl watched me from above the sweet shop and I took a sip of something for part of a long game. I felt the knife in my pocket and smiled. My plan was going to work.