Alakazam.part two

Elias started his own investigation, a pursuit that felt like trying to grab smoke. He had a name—Clara—and a vague description from the usher. He went to the local library and researched missing persons, thinking perhaps she had a history of this. Nothing. He tried searching private investigator licenses in the state. Again, a dead end. Clara, it seemed, was as adept at disappearing into the real world as Elias was on stage.

A week later, Elias received a plain envelope with no return address. Inside was only a single ticket stub for the 'Stardust Theatre' and a business card. The card read: “C. Valenti. Solutions.” There was a phone number but no address.

He called the number immediately.

“You’re a difficult man to reach, Elias Pembrook,” a cool voice answered on the third ring. It was Clara.

“You used my name,” he replied, a mix of annoyance and excitement in his voice.

They agreed to meet at a diner a few towns over, a neutral ground far from the Stardust Theatre. When Elias walked in, Clara was already seated in a booth, sipping coffee, her posture impeccable. She looked less like a PI now and more like someone who simply knew how the world worked.

“How did you do it?” Elias asked, sitting down, skipping all pleasantries. “The back door was locked from the inside.”

Clara smiled faintly. “The cabinet, as you know, has a false back that leads to a short, narrow passage. At the end of that passage, you have a solid wood door that you lock from the theater side with a simple bolt mechanism.”

“Yes, I know my own illusion.”

“But the door leading out to the alley is an old fire exit,” Clara said, leaning in. “It’s rigged with a crash bar. You can open it from the inside, but a simple L-shaped bracket bolted near the floor makes it look like the latch is stuck and won’t engage the lock. Most people just assume it’s jammed and go back the way they came. I simply kicked the bracket aside, slipped out the fire exit, relocked it with a deadbolt I happened to carry with me, and returned to the alley via the front of the building while you were busy having an existential crisis backstage.”

Elias stared at her, utterly defeated and completely exhilarated. She hadn’t used magic; she had used logic, observation, and preparedness.

“Why?” he asked.

“Your ex-fiancée’s family,” Clara said, stirring her coffee. “They’re difficult people. I realized after researching you that you didn't run away from debt or a crime. You ran away from the suffocating banality of the world they wanted to force you into. I saw your show, Elias. I saw a man who needed an escape route, not someone who needed to be tied down with inheritance paperwork.”

Clara slid a folded legal document across the table. It was the waiver he needed to sign.

“I’m not here as their agent anymore, Elias Pembrook,” she said. “I’m here as someone who appreciates a good disappearing act. You sign this, you get the paperwork out of everyone’s hair, and you go back to being Alakazam, the man who vanishes.”

Elias picked up the pen. He was the master of misdirection, but Clara Valenti was the master of the art of the exit. He signed the document, a genuine smile spreading across his face.

"Do you want to see a real illusion sometime?" he asked, pocketing the pen.

Clara finished her coffee and stood up, reaching for her coat. "I prefer practical solutions over illusions," she said, but her eyes held a spark of shared understanding. "But maybe. If you can make something truly interesting disappear."

She left a twenty-dollar bill on the table for her coffee and walked out, a magician without a stage, leaving Elias Pembrook with the distinct feeling that the most intriguing act in town had just begun.