While waiting for the spectacle to begin, I cut and shuffled a deck of cards with my left hand, keeping the ace on top, practicing a skill I would never again use. The goose-honk of a squeeze-bulb car-horn announced the impending arrival of the hearse. I dropped the deck in my jacket pocket.
Giggling bathing beauties stood planted on the running boards of the approaching lemon-yellow Packard. Its nose-end acted as a ship’s bow, parting the crowd which swept back in rippling waves. Curtains cloaked the windows of its stretched-out cargo hold. The vehicle rolled to a stop at the brink of a neatly-carved rectangular pit.
Flappers in their tube-like dresses, the tassels on their knee-high hems shimmying, strained against the cordoned-off perimeter. Some blew kisses. Dandies, resuscitated after a night of celebrating Prohibition—genteel gentlemen for whom daylight was a curse word—balanced on their toes to witness the hullabaloo. Young nippers roosted on tombstones; some braved the roofs of mausoleums.
This was a great story. I had to know how the escape would work and, unfortunately, how Frenchini died. Well written story.
Truly terrific puzzle mystery. Who doesn't love an escape artist?
The first principle of any magic trick is misdirection. Good story.