Magic—closed up his stall in the alley. He took his time about it, every movement designed to communicate how much trouble the rozzers were causing him. Down came the display of saucy playthings, all of which had to be placed with undo gentleness in collapsible cardboard boxes that he kept stashed in a pile in a cubbyhole designed for this express purpose above the stall. Put away were the gag items in a similar fashion, as well as a number of the magic tricks. Every object had its particular storage spot, and Minshall made certain it was deposited there in an exact position known only to him. Through all this, Barbara waited in ease. She had all the time he was intent upon demonstrating that he needed. And if he happened to be using that time to concoct a story about Davey Benton and the handcuffs, she herself used it to note those features about the alley that promised to assist her in the coming exchange with Mr. Magic. For there would be an exchange, she knew. This bloke didn’t look the type to stand by idly as she rooted through his van.
