Fontana was still sitting in his chair. He was laughing, sipping my
drink. "This is great," he said. He got up, giving his jacket a
"You owe me one," he added, "and this is it, some of it,
anyway. Let's not forget who could have been sitting in that
eight-by-twelve up at Raiford the last three years instead of me. I'm
at the Delano. You feel like it, give me a call. I got something going
on I'd like to include you in."
He gave the gizmo a glance. It was under the table next to my foot,
or had been; now I didn't see it. "You know, Matthew, a man can go
his whole life in this country and never know if he's a coward. You
want a blaze of glory? I'm going to serve it to you on a silver
He laughed again and walked inside. No one paid attention to him.
After another minute I got up and sat in the chair and finished my
drink, thinking to slip the black box in my pocket.
I reached down for it and froze. I shoved the table aside. The deck
underneath was empty.
"The Vanishing Jack" was Fontana's favorite card trick from
years ago. He would do it so fast you hardly saw his hands move.
Oldest romance writer in the world dies aged 105. Books #124 and #125 to be published next year(Dec 10 2013) Ida Pollock, author of more than 120 books, and believed to be the world's oldest romantic novelist, has died at the age of 105.