Harry Houdini Mysteries (14 page)

I had been acquainted with Lieutenant Patrick Murray for more than a year at that time, and if I had not known better, I would have attributed his disheveled appearance to the haste with which he answered the summons. Tall and beefy, Lieutenant Murray always managed to give the impression of having shaved and dressed in total darkness. His rumpled brown suit had acquired a few more gravy stains since our previous meeting, and he appeared to be wearing his collar inside out.
His eyes, by contrast, were sharp and piercing, in spite of the drooping lids and watery edges, giving him the aspect of a fierce, if bedraggled terrier.

Less than one hour had passed since the discovery of Edgar Grange’s murder, and in the intervening time the circumstances surrounding his death had only grown more mysterious. Kenneth Clairmont confirmed that the door to the room had been securely bolted when he went to fetch Dr. Wells’s medical bag, and a brief examination turned up no indication that the lock had been forced. The only other access to the room was through the windows, and these were also firmly secured from within.

Immediately following the unhappy discovery, several things had happened in rapid succession. First, Mrs. Clairmont had collapsed in a demure and elegant heap on the floor, requiring the application of lilac water to her pulse points. Next, the police were summoned to begin the process of examining, measuring, and recording every aspect of the scene. While awaiting their arrival, Dr. Wells and I had fetched a carving knife from the kitchen and used it to cut Lucius Craig free from his bonds. After Lieutenant Murray’s appearance, as the others were shown downstairs, Harry and I were asked to remain behind to answer questions.

No sooner had the others left the room than my brother threw himself down on his hands and knees and began an energetic examination of the plum-colored carpet beneath the séance table. The police noted his strange behavior with a respectful interest but did nothing to disturb him, as though he might be a wealthy, if unbalanced, relation of the hostess.

Lieutenant Murray surveyed the scene for a few moments with his hands shoved in his pockets, then listened to a preliminary report from the leatherhead who had been the first on the scene. After a moment, he sidled up to me and jerked his thumb at the floor, where my brother had progressed to rubbing his fingers along the base of the séance table.

“What’s he doing?” the lieutenant asked.

I watched as Harry plucked a splinter from beneath the table, sniffed it twice, and then carefully wrapped it in his handkerchief. “I believe he is examining the scene with the energy of a bloodhound,” I said.

The lieutenant raised an eyebrow. “How’s that?”

I shrugged my shoulders. “It’s something he picked up in a Sherlock Holmes story.”

“Ah.” Lieutenant Murray led me to the bay window. “All right, Hardeen,” he said. “Let’s hear it. From the beginning. How did this happen and why are you and your brother in the middle of it?”

I spent the next twenty minutes or so relating the events of the evening for him and detailing the manner in which Harry and I had come to be included in the gathering. Lieutenant Murray interrupted several times to pose a question or seek clarification, and as I spoke he filled several pages of his notepad with dense printing. When I’d finished, the lieutenant closed up his notepad and looked back at the scene with a shake of his head.

“A ghost, you say?”

“Well, a glowing figure of some sort. An apparition, say.”

“And this thing had a knife in its hand?”

“So it appeared.” I shook my head, hardly able to believe what I was saying. “It was very difficult to see. It couldn’t have been visible for more than a few seconds, and it kept flickering in and out. When I first saw it, I thought it was simply a streak of light. Then it resolved itself into that horrible figure.”

“With a knife.”

“Yes. With a knife.”

“And when the lights came back up, the lawyer had been stabbed.”

I turned to look at the séance table, where Edgar Grange’s body was still being examined by the police physician. “That’s right, Lieutenant. Incredible as it may sound.”

The lieutenant flipped a page in his notebook. “It was completely dark before the ghost showed up?”

“I couldn’t have seen my own hand in front of my face.”

“And your hand wouldn’t have been there, anyway,” he said. “Not with all of you clutching one another in a circle around the table. That means that if one of you broke away to kill the lawyer—”

“At least two others sitting at the table would have known it,” I said. “The person sitting on the killer’s right and left would have had to release his hands. And his feet, for that matter.”

Lieutenant Murray looked again at Harry, who was now fingering the scrollwork on one of the chair legs. “With all due respect, Hardeen, your account has to be taken with a grain of salt. You did just tell me that you and the rest of them saw a ghost in here.”

“I didn’t say I saw a ghost,” I replied. “I said there was some sort of glowing apparition.”

“Glowing apparition. Right. Well, whatever it was, there must have been some pretty considerable confusion when it appeared. I don’t imagine everyone was paying the closest attention to what was going on around them. Somebody could have slipped free.”

“It’s possible,” I agreed, “but the others are all insisting they kept hold of each other through the whole thing. Lucius Craig insisted on it. He seemed to feel that the minute the psychic circle was broken, the apparition would vanish. It seems our collective energy is what allowed it to manifest itself.”

The lieutenant appeared bemused. “Your collective energy, you say?”

“I’m just telling you what was said.”

Lieutenant Murray studied the table. “You and your brother don’t seem to have been too concerned with collective energy,” he said. “The two of you both broke away to go after this—what did you call it?”

“Glowing apparition.”

“You have a real way with words, Hardeen. Anyway, the circle was broken at that stage. That must be when the killer struck.”

I shook my head. “He couldn’t have known that Harry and I were both going to jump up from the table.”

“No, but it would have been a pretty safe bet that some sort of commotion would break out once the ghost put in an appearance.”

I considered it. “The killer would have had to know in advance that there was going to be a manifestation. He’d have had to know about the ghost beforehand.”

The lieutenant nodded. “Exactly.”

I lowered my voice. “Lucius Craig,” I said. “But he was wrapped like a mummy, Lieutenant. We had a devil of a time cutting him free afterwards. He couldn’t possibly have stabbed Mr. Grange.”

Lieutenant Murray did not reply. Instead, he stepped over to the body of Edgar Grange, which was still slumped forward across the séance table. Dr. Peterson, a short, round-faced man with a halo of startlingly white hair, was crouched nearby.

“Finding anything, Doc?” asked Lieutenant Murray.

The doctor straightened up and brushed off his knees. “The fatal injury was caused by a single knife thrust between the third and—”

The lieutenant waved his hand impatiently. “I can see that. Have you found anything I don’t know?”

“It’s a very peculiar case,” the doctor said. “The killer was fortunate to have inflicted such a wound in total darkness. The thrust was not deep, but it nicked the carotid.” He looked at me. “Young man, are you certain that you didn’t hear the injured man cry out?”

“He may have, but there was considerable confusion in the room. The sound might have been mistaken for surprise over the appearance of the ghostly figure.”

Dr. Peterson looked down at the body. “The wound must have been extremely painful. I’m quite certain he would have
made a sound of some kind. Perhaps Dr. Wells might have been able to intervene.”

“Or Dr. Wells may have been the one to inflict the wound in the first place,” Lieutenant Murray said.

“Unlikely,” answered Peterson. “A trained physician would have done a better job of it.”

“Unless he couldn’t see in the dark,” Lieutenant Murray said.

“Yes,” said Peterson. “I suppose that might account for it. Still, I would have expected—”

“Ah ha!” shouted my brother from the floor.

“What have you got there, Houdini?” asked Lieutenant Murray.

Harry pointed to a table leg. “A very distinct scratch mark where Mrs. Clairmont and Dr. Wells were sitting.”

Lieutenant Murray bent down and studied the mark. “Looks like an old scuff mark to me, Houdini.” He stepped across the room to the desk and returned with a letter opener. Bending down, he made a similar scratch above the one Harry had indicated. “See? The mark I made is brighter. The wood hasn’t had a chance to age yet.”

Harry studied the twin marks for a moment. “You may be right,” he acknowledged. “Even so, my theory is still sound.”

Lieutenant Murray straightened up. “Your theory?”

“Indeed.” Harry crawled out from beneath the table, his face alight with excitement. “Might I ask you to step into the hallway for a moment, Lieutenant?”

“The hallway? Why?”

Harry put a finger to his lips. “All will be revealed,” he said in a low voice. “Please follow me. I guarantee that you will find this most illuminating.”

The expression on Lieutenant Murray’s face told me that there would be grave consequences if that guarantee was not met. Nevertheless, the lieutenant had a quick word with Dr. Peterson and then followed Harry into the hallway outside the séance room.

“What’s this about, Houdini?” he asked.

“Only this,” said Harry with proud smile. “I have solved the case!”

“Pardon?”

“I have solved the case! I am ready to unmask the villain! He will rue the day that he crossed paths with the Great Houdini!”

Lieutenant Murray turned to me. “Hardeen, do you know anything about this?”

I shook my head. “Harry, how can you be so sure? The body isn’t even cold yet. Don’t you think you’re being a bit—”

“The solution was evident from the first,” Harry continued, ignoring my attempt at moderation. “Though it would not have revealed itself to the more conventional approach of the New York City police. No, this was a problem that required talents and abilities unique to the world’s foremost self-liberator. When one is presented with a puzzle which appears to have no solution, one must turn to a master of puzzlement!”

“Harry,” I said, noting Lieutenant Murray’s rising color, “maybe you should get to the—”

“Eight people are locked within a room,” he continued, stroking his chin. “One of them is murdered under cover of darkness. Yet it appears improbable that any of the remaining seven people could have accomplished the crime. How is it possible?”

“That’s what my men and I are endeavoring to find out, Houdini,” Lieutenant Murray said. “If you have anything to tell me, you’d best get to it. Otherwise, you’re wasting my time.”

“All in good time, dear sir! In order for you to appreciate the exquisite simplicity of my solution, I must acquaint you with the elegant chain of reasoning that produced it.”

I watched as the lieutenant’s jaw muscles tightened. “Harry,” I said, “perhaps it might be best if we skipped over the elegant chain of reasoning.”

“I would not dream of it,” he said with a happy smile. “I could not ask the lieutenant to arrest the guilty party on my
word alone. He must have the evidence!” He tugged on the points of his bow tie. “Now, then, as I approached the problem, I naturally asked myself if a killer could have entered from outside of the chamber while the eight of us sat in darkness. Perhaps the murderer slipped in through the windows or possibly through the locked doors.” He gestured at the door to the study behind us. “After all, the door was secured by a simple Orkam shaft-clasp lock, with a mere three pins inside. One need not be the world’s foremost self-liberator to pick this lock. An eight-year-old boy with a willow twig could undoubtedly have forced his way into the room.”

“Flaherty,” said the lieutenant, motioning to a sergeant standing nearby. “Go and round up any eight-year-old boys you happen to see carrying willow twigs.”

“Right away, sir.”

“I immediately discarded this possibility,” Harry continued, oblivious to the lieutenant’s sarcasm. “If the door had been opened, we should have seen the illumination from the hallway. The killer could not have entered through the door. Could he have entered through the windows? This seemed the most promising theory at first, but on closer examination, a grave problem emerged.”

“The windows were locked from the inside,” Lieutenant Murray said. “Houdini, as much as I enjoy listening to you state the obvious, I have a murder investigation to run.”

“The window locks are no great obstacle, Lieutenant. A piece of filament or wire could easily be looped around the locking lever. If this wire were to run outside the window along a seam or hinge, the windows could easily be unlocked from the outside.”

Harry had the lieutenant’s attention now. “You’re saying that the killer opened the windows by pulling a string?”

“I’m saying he could have.” Harry stepped back as a pair of morgue attendants arrived carrying a stretcher. “Of course, he could also have had an accomplice inside who unlocked the
windows and then locked them again afterwards. However, I do not believe this to have been the case.”

“We’d have heard the windows opening,” I said, “and we’d have seen light from the street when the killer passed through the curtains.”

“Not to mention the fact that there’s no ledge of any sort outside the windows,” said Lieutenant Murray. “It’s a good thirty-foot drop to the street.”

“Exactly,” said Harry. “That is why I have ruled out the possibility that the killer came from outside the room.”

“Then we’re back where we started,” I said. “It was one of us. One of the seven people sitting at the table. Assuming we can rule out the Brothers Houdini, that leaves Dr. Wells, Kenneth Clairmont, Brunson, Mrs. Clairmont, and Lucius Craig himself. You’re saying that one of them is the killer?”

Harry thrust his index finger into the air. “Not necessarily.”