“Who else attended the memorial service on Friday?” Jason asked.
“Everyone.”
Patently not. She couldn’t recall if Boz had been there. Khan had been meeting with his agent. Minerva was performing at her corporate event.
“Was Terry Van der Beck there?”
“I’m sure he was.”
He believed her grief was genuine, but that she was perhaps playing up the extent of her distress. Diamond was a cool customer. She probably had a more accurate idea of who had attended the memorial service—and for how long—than she was letting on.
“Did either of the Khans stop by at any point during the evening?”
“No.”
“You said that you believe Minerva Khan is behind the theft of her husband’s art collection. Putting aside hocus-pocus for the moment, how do you think she could have managed that?”
Diamond’s expression was impassive. After a moment, she said, “I would imagine she hired someone. Or, more likely, she asked Ted Fields to hire someone. Ted is Minerva’s longtime manager—and current boyfriend.”
“Interesting.” Jason handed her his card. “If you can think of anything else that might be of help…”
She tucked the card away without comment.
Dreyfus said suddenly, “Why do you think there are so few female magicians?”
Diamond considered her for a thoughtful moment. “Men don’t like to be tricked by women.”
“Do they like to be tricked by other men?” Jason asked.
“They consider the risk to be part of their normal competitive dynamic.” She shrugged. “Just an opinion, of course.”
“One last thing,” Jason said. “If Ian Boz is not involved in Michael Khan’s death or the theft of the Khan collection, can you think of any reason he’d panic at the sight of federal agents on his doorstep?”
She made a sound that was disarmingly close to a groan. “God. Poor Boz.”
“Not following,” said Jason.
“Did you ever hear the story of a T-Rex named Sue and the Federal Government’s insane persecution of the paleontologists who uncovered the fossil?”
Jason winced. “Yes.”
“That’s why. Not everything in Boz’s shop is going to pass government inspection, if you get my drift. We’re not talking serious violations, but Boz is, I think understandably, paranoid.”
She turned at the sound of tires on dirt. A battered green pickup bounced down the pothole-riddled road and pulled into the nearby lot already occupied by horse trailers, a small moving van, and two old-fashioned red and gold circus train stock cars.
A slender, fair-haired man got out.
Jason shaded his eyes. “Is that Terry Van der Beck?”
Diamond’s expression softened. “Yes. Terry helps out with the animals. He has a wonderful energy. They love him.”
“Speaking of help, thank you for yours,?
? Dreyfus said.
Diamond didn’t reply.
“That was a waste of time,” Dreyfus said as they walked back to her Dodge sedan G-ride.