Now You See It by Richard Matheson Page A

herself).
    “Of course he wouldn’t put Harry in there,” she said. “That would be ridiculous.”
    “Is this the only secret panel?” asked Plum.
    “As far as I know,” she said, closing the panel.
    That surprised me. Had Max made other alterations to this room that I didn’t know about? The notion was disturbing to me.
    “What do you mean, as far as you know?” Plum was obviously thinking along the same lines. “Isn’t this your house?”
    “My house, yes. My private study, no. My husband calls it his Magic Room. As far as I know, he could have had it gimmicked in a dozen different ways without my knowing it.”
    Disturbing
, I thought.
    “I guess it’s time I talked to
him
, then,” Plum said. “Do you know where he might be?”
    She looked newly aggravated.
“Sheriff,”
she said. “How many times do I have to tell you? I was
unconscious!”
    “How do you expect me to
arrest
him, then?” he charged. “If we don’t even know where he is!”
    She thought about it for several moments, then replied,“Wouldn’t it be better if we found Harry’s body first? Until we do, my husband is just going to deny everything.”
    “You think he’ll deny it,” said Plum.
    “Well, you don’t imagine he’ll
confess
, do you?” she demanded.
    Yes, I do imagine that
, I answered silently.
He’s not a man to shirk responsibility
.
    Sheriff Plum was losing patience now.
    “Mrs. Delacorte,” he said, “I don’t
know
your husband. He might do
anything
, as far as I’m concerned.”
    Touché, you clod
, I thought.
    Cassandra looked apologetic. “You’re right. I’m sorry,” she said.
    Her features hardened then.
    “Well, believe me, he
will
deny it,” she said. “He didn’t set this whole cabal up only to admit his guilt.”
    “Cabal?” asked Plum.
    “Plot,”
she told him. “Secret plan. Conspiracy. Maneuver—”
    “Got
it!” cried the Sheriff. “
Lordamighty!”
    Lordamighty?
    “I’ll take your word that he won’t confess,” Plum went on. “So what do—”
    She cut him off. “We have to find Harry’s body,” she said. “If we can only—”
    She stopped, looking across the room.
    At the burial case.
    The Sheriff asked, “What’s that?”
    “An Egyptian burial case,” she told him.
    “From Egypt?”
    “Well, maybe it’s from Yugoslavia, I don’t know,” she snapped.
    “There’s no need to be smart,” the Sheriff told her.
    Especially for you
, I thought.
(Max, where
are
you?
is what I was thinking behind that thought.)
    Cassandra had exhaled wearily.
“Sorry,”
she said. She didn’t sound it.
    “I think, before we start searching for a body—I’ll probably need a warrant anyway—I’d better speak to your husband,” the Sheriff decided.
    “It’s always kept open,” she said.
    He squinted at her.
“What?”
he asked.
    Cassandra walked across the room and opened the burial case.
    “Yes, it would have been terribly clever of him to hide the body in here,” she said, scowling at the empty interior.
    Neither of them noticed what was happening behind them.
    On the right glove of the suit of armor.
    A large drop of blood was about to drip from one of its fingertips.

    “Where might I be likely to find your husband, Mrs. Delacorte?” the Sheriff asked.
    Her smile was bitter. “After committing murder?” she said. “On a flight to Europe, probably.”
    No
, I thought;
not Max
. But it was only half a thought.
    The bulk of my attention was on the suit of armor as the hanging drop of blood disengaged itself from the fingertip of the glove and dropped to the floor, splashing delicately. They did not react.
    Can’t you
hear
that?
I thought incredulously.
    “You think he’s left, then?” the Sheriff asked. Obviously, he hadn’t heard.
    “Sheriff, how am I supposed to know?” Cassandra replied. “How
could
I know?”
    Obviously, she hadn’t heard either.
    Now a second drop of blood was collecting at the tip of the glove finger. I watched with a kind of