Heinlein, Robert A – Expanded Universe

eyes on the mirror.

I heard the two beeps! sharp and clear. When he did not announce the show at

once, I glanced around and saw that, while he had the mike in his hand, he was

staring past it at the door, and looking considerably upset.

There were two cops just inside the door, Hannegan and Feinstein, both off

the beat. I supposed he was afraid of a raid, which was silly. Pavement pounders

don’t pull raids. I knew what they were there for, even before Hannegan gave Jack a

broad grin and waved him the okay sign-they had just slipped in for a free gander at

the flesh under the excuse of watching the public morals.

“We now present the Magic Mirror,” said Jack’s

voice out of the juke box. Somebody climbed on ti stool beside me and slipped a hand

under my arm. looked around. It was Hazel.

“You’re not here; you’re up there,” I said foc ishly.

“Huh-uh. Estelle said- I’ll tell you after the show The lights were coming

up in the Mirror and the jul box was cranking out Valse Triste. The altar was in th

scene, too, and Estelle was sprawled over it much she had been before. As it got

lighter you could see red stain down her side and the prop dagger. Haz had told me

what each of the acts were; this was ti one called “The Altar Victim,” scheduled for

the oi o’clock show.

I was disappointed not to be seeing Hazel, but I h2 to admit it was

good-good theater, of the nasty soi sadism and sex combined. The red stuff-catsup

guessed-trickling down her bare side and the hand of the prop dagger sticking up as

if she had be stabbed through-the customers liked it. It was a na ural follow-up to

the “Sacrifice to the Sun”.

Hazel screamed in my ear.

Her first scream was solo. The next thing I can rec~ it seemed as if every

woman in the place was screar ing-soprano, alto, and some tenor, but most screeching

soprano. Through it came the bull voice Hannegan. “Keep your seats, folks! Somebody

turn the lights!”

I grabbed Hazel by the shoulders and shook hc “What’s the matter? What’s

up?”

She looked dazed, then pointed at the Mirror. “Shc dead. . . she’s dead . .

. she’s dead!” she chanted. 5] scrambled down from the stool and took out for ii

back of the house. I started after her. The house ligh came on abruptly, leaving the

Mirror lights still oi

We finished one, two, three, up the stairwa through a little dressing room,

and onto the stage almost caught up with Hazel, and Feinstein was do on my heels.

We stood there, jammed in the door, blinking at the flood lights, and not

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liking what we saw under them. She was dead all right. The dagger, which should have

been faked between her arm and her breast with catsup spilled around to maintain the

illusion-this prop dagger, this slender steel blade, was three inches closer to her

breastbone than it should have been. It had been stabbed straight into her heart.

On the floor at the side of the altar away from the audience, close enough

to Estelle to reach it, was the egg timer. As I looked at it the last of the sand

ran out.

I caught Hazel as she fell-she was a big armful- and spread her on the

couch. “Eddie,” said Feinstein, “call the Station for me. Tell Hannegan not to let

anyone out. I’m staying here.” I called the station but did not have to tell

Hannegan anything. He had them all seated again and was jollying them along. Jack

was still standing back of the bar, shock on his face, and the bright light at the

control board making him look like a death’s head.

By twelve-fifteen Spade Jones, Lieutenant Jones of Homicide, showed up and

from there on things slipped into a smooth routine. He knew me well, having helped

me work up some of the book I did for the Chief, and he grabbed onto me at once for

some of the background. By twelve-thirty he was reasonably sure that none of the