Never trust a conjurer - he's out to trick you. And certainly never trust his glamorous assistant - she's there to distract you. But what happens when the glamorous assistant distracts the conjurer? And there's a murder to be solved. Or is it two? Or three? Or four? Or is it murder? Only one way to find out. Read this book.
Sylvie was no longer the anxious supplicant who'd lain beneath my hands earlier in the evening. Her hair shone glossy and smooth around a face powdered to pale ivory, only her lipstick recalled the bright stain that had coated her body. Sylvie's stylised makeup was at odds with the plain black satin dress she'd changed into. It was a good combination, something like a whore on a murder charge. She took another inch out of her glass and asked, 'Successful evening?'