Harry Houdini Mysteries (26 page)

“How did he get out?” I repeated.

“He didn’t. Not in the way you mean. I thought your brother might have stumbled across our little secret when he began poking around the séance table. He realized that the table had been specially constructed to Lucius’s exacting standards. What he didn’t fully appreciate was that the chairs had been, as well.”

“A break-away armrest,” I said. “I’ve only read about such things. The European mediums sometimes make use of them. A medium’s arms can be securely bound to the armrests, but that’s no hindrance, because the armrests themselves pull away cleanly from the base of the chair. When the medium is done ringing a bell or shaking a tambourine, he simply drops the armrest back into place.”

“In this case the medium was able to reach across and stab a man in the back. Of course, Lucius never expected that he would be making use of the device in quite this way, but it couldn’t be helped.”

“But why do it in this manner? Surely there are simpler ways of killing a man.”

Foster shook his head sadly. “Hardeen, you really must try to understand. Don’t you see, if this had gone as I’d planned, I would have gained complete control over the Clairmont fortune! Not only would Edgar Grange have been removed, but I would have provided proof positive of Lucius Craig’s so-called spirit powers! So long as Augusta believed that Lucius was bringing her in contact with Jasper, I would have been able to control her like a puppet! How do you suppose my sister would have responded if Jasper’s ghost had told her to support my work? I’d have had all the money I needed.”

“And Lucius Craig was willing to kill Edgar Grange for this?”

“Not precisely.” Foster bent over a coil of wire. “Of course, he was only too happy to follow along with my plan at first. It would have brought him a comfortable living at Augusta’s expense for as long as he cared to avail himself of it. He wanted no part of Edgar’s death, however. I had to find methods of persuading him.”

“Blackmail?”

“Well, yes. Obviously. Suffice it to say that his daughter is not quite what he says. He has had trouble along those lines previously and has been at some pains to erase those unfortunate memories. He was terribly eager to see that no mention of this was made to the authorities.” Foster straightened up and brushed off his hands. “And now, Mr. Hardeen, I believe I’m ready for you.”

I strained at my bonds. The pain nearly overcame me. “Craig wasn’t the one who killed Jasper Clairmont, was he? That would have been before his time.”

Foster looked at me with interest. “What makes you think that anyone killed him?” he said carefully. “My brother-in-law killed himself.”

“I’m not a great believer in coincidence,” I said. “According to Mr. Grange’s appointment book, he had a meeting scheduled with Jasper Clairmont on the day of Clairmont’s suicide. The notation made reference to filing papers at City Hall. Since there was a patent application attached to the drawing we found—”

“It wasn’t fair!” Foster shouted, suddenly roused to a high state of agitation. “My brother-in-law was going to steal my invention right out from under me. Jasper had agreed to fund the research only if he retained a ninety-five percent share of the company. As though that were not sufficiently absurd, he wanted the patent made out in his name! He wouldn’t have known a Nipkow disk from a wagon wheel, but he expected me to hand over all future profits to him for a few thousand dollars.”

“So you killed him.”

Foster studied his hands. “I did not intend it. My—my temper got away from me when he made his ridiculous demands. I threatened him. I may have struck him across the face once or twice. In any case, he felt it necessary to draw his revolver. I swear to God that I meant him no real harm. I was just angry. But at the sight of that revolver—” He paused and pressed a hand to his temple, as though the memory was causing him
pain. “I pretended to calm down and eventually he set the revolver down on the desk. I took the gun and shot him at close range through the head. I was scarcely conscious of what I was doing. I seemed for a time to be under the control of a force outside of myself, as though mechanically synchronized with some distant transmitter. I could hear the others rushing toward the room and a plan came into my mind. Perhaps it was there all along. I heard my sister’s voice calling to her husband from the hall, and I knew that I did not have much time. I placed the gun in his hand and tightened his fingers around it. Naturally the others assumed it was suicide.”

“But the door was locked and there was no place for concealment in the room. How did you avoid discovery when they came through the door?”

“It wasn’t difficult. I simply stood behind the door and hid there until they finally managed to unlock it. It swung open, and I pressed myself between the open door and the wall. Naturally they weren’t concerned with checking behind the door. They rushed in and went straight to the desk. After a few seconds, while their attention was fixed on my brother-in-law’s body, I simply stepped from my hiding place and rushed into the room, as if I had just arrived. I went into my drunk act. No one had any difficulty believing that I had been slow to respond to the sound of the shot.” He closed his eyes and gave a shudder. “I regret killing him. It was a decision made in the heat of the moment.”

“What about Edgar Grange? That was as calculated as anything one could imagine. Why did you have to kill him, too?”

“He had the plans to the Foster tube. He even had a model of the receiving unit. It would only have been a matter of time before he made the connection between my invention and the ghostly apparitions upstairs. I can’t say I was sorry to see him go, in any case. He had seized control of the estate and was blocking every attempt I made to get what was owing to me. Worse, I believe that in time he would have married Augusta. That
would have defeated all my plans. He had to go, and I found it pleasant that television was the instrument of his departure. The best part is, no one will ever suspect me. I wasn’t even in the room when the killing occurred. Had I been present, I might well have emerged as the most likely suspect. But who would be suspicious of a man who was nowhere near the scene of the crime? Several people saw me carried from the house, but no one saw me creep back into the cellar. It enabled me to be suitably indignant afterwards. I was terribly convincing, don’t you think?”

“There was something on your face,” I said, trying to recall. “A dark smudge.”

“Makeup. I was experimenting. The scanner is not so refined as I hope to make it. In order to register the features, they must be outlined with heavy coal and ochre. A mask was better suited to my purpose, but in some cases only the human face will do.” He stepped over to a shelf near the furnace. “Which reminds me, Mr. Hardeen,” he said, fingering a tube of thick greasepaint, “it’s time to get you ready.”

“Ready? What do you mean?”

“Just sit still. This won’t take long.” He crouched over me and began dabbing thick smears of makeup on my face. “Hold still! Otherwise they won’t be able to make out who you are.”

“Who I am? What are you talking about?”

“Dear boy, must I explain everything? I thought you were a bright young man.” He sighed and smoothed a line of dark foundation cream along my jawline. “I’m planning to put you on television, Mr. Hardeen. You’ll be quite a sensation, I’ve no doubt.”

I didn’t like the sound of that. I shifted in the chair and tried to continue working at the knots around my wrists. “But why?” I asked, hoping to distract him from my movements. “Is this device really so important?”

“Important? My dear fellow, the Foster tube will put Edison’s lamp in the shade! My little device will consolidate the work of
Paul Nipkow and launch an entire industry! Have you any idea what sort of money this device of mine is worth? Millions!”

I glanced at the oddly shaped glass tube. “But what is it for? What does television do?”

“Can’t you guess?”

I shook my head.

Foster straightened up and wiped a smear of makeup with his handkerchief. “Isn’t it obvious? It’s for sending navigational maps to ships at sea! That’s what made it so perfect for my brother-in-law! Have you any idea how much money is lost each year due to maritime disasters? Do you know how many lives are forfeit at sea due to foul weather incidents? With the Foster television system, a ship’s captain would have the very latest weather information maps broadcast directly to the bridge from the nearest observational point on shore! It will revolutionize the shipping business!”

“Weather maps?” My eyes widened with disbelief. “All this for weather maps?”

“All this for the safety of ships and seamen” he said piously. “There is a considerable difference. One day the entire world will see it that way. I will be hailed as the man who rescued sea commerce from Mother Nature.”

“But you’ve killed two men!”

“Three men, actually.” He stepped back to appraise the makeup on my face. “I’m afraid we must count you in that total. I’m sorry for this, Mr. Hardeen. I truly am.” His tone was disconcertingly light, as though remarking on a sudden change of weather. I tried to match the lack of concern in his tone.

“But how do you expect to get away with killing me?” I asked. “A third body will surely bring an even more thorough investigation by the police.”

“Oh, they’ll never find your body,” he said cheerily. “You see, I’m planning to incinerate you.” He uncorked a glass retort from the work table. The smell of kerosene filled the chamber. “Your death will not be in vain, however. I’m going to set fire
to you on television. There’s a kind of symmetry to it, you see. First Edgar was stabbed by a vengeful spirit, now you are to be consigned to the flames of hell. I trust the display will give my sister sufficient respect for the spirit realm.”

“They’ll never believe it,” I said.

“Perhaps not, but at least you won’t be in any position to contradict me. It’s a sort of distinction, I suppose, being killed on television. Ironic, really.” He closed one eye and sized me up as though preparing to carve a guinea fowl. “What worries me is the mess. I’ll put the remains in the furnace, of course, but the rest will be a real bother to tidy up. Can’t very well have the girl do it.”

I felt a sense of cold dread as he advanced on me with the kerosene bottle. “My brother will never stop looking. He’ll track you down if it takes the rest of his life.”

“But your brother wasn’t the one to find me, was he? Your brother does not strike me as a titan of the intellectual processes. No, I think the secret is safe with us.” His eyes drifted back toward the work table. “Let us see, did I remember to leave the music box running upstairs? I believe so. Now then, Mr. Hardeen...” He raised the bottle and began splashing the foul-smelling liquid onto my clothing.

It had been my plan to keep him talking long enough to allow me to escape from the wrist restraints. As it happened, I had not yet managed to do so. Perhaps if my arm had not been so badly injured I might have succeeded, but as matters stood I was as securely fastened as ever. I was entirely helpless.

Or very nearly, in any case. I waited until Foster passed in front of me, then aimed a rabbit kick at his right kneecap. He went down hard, with the white cloak billowing like a collapsing sail. I pitched forward and struggled to my feet, dragging the ladder-back chair a couple of feet until I was nearly on top of him. I put the chair down and positioned myself to send another kick at Foster’s skull. His head snapped back and his eyes closed.

I hoped he would stay under long enough for me to free
myself, but I didn’t have a lot of confidence in my awkward kick. I hopped over to the laboratory table and looked for some means of freeing myself. Hot waves of pain rose from my injured arm, and I had to set the chair down again before I reached the table. I could hear Foster groaning behind me and realized I didn’t have much time. Then my eyes fell on the metal Nipkow disk.

I dragged myself over to the device and found the lateral trip-switch at the base. Straining forward, I gripped the lever in my teeth, flipping the crossbar over to strike the contact points. I heard a sudden crackle of electricity and the smell of burning sulphur hit my nostrils. The disk began spinning, slowly at first, then gathering speed as the sound of a high-pitched metallic whine filled the air.

I don’t know precisely what I hoped to accomplish. I believe I had it in mind that I would use the edge of the whirling disk to sever my bonds, in the manner of a spinning buzz saw. In any event, I had barely managed to turn my bonds toward the disk when Sterling Foster barrelled into me from behind, sending me sprawling onto the floor in front of the laboratory table. Instinctively I tried to maneuver onto my back to ward off his next blow. Burdened as I was by the chair strapped to my back, I could only flail helplessly on my side. Foster reared back and kicked savagely, catching my injured arm and shoulder with the full force of his boot. A bolt of pain blasted through me. My eyes began to dim. I bit down hard and tried to rouse myself, knowing that if I blacked out he would finish me. As my vision cleared I saw Foster stooping to pick up his knife from the floor. Bracing myself against the laboratory table, I swept his knees with my right leg and sent him sprawling. The knife skittered toward the furnace.

I knew that I could not hold my own against him for much longer. Twisting furiously, I braced my feet against the bottom of the laboratory table. The pain burned through me. Gasping with effort, I pushed against the table with my legs, trying to
make it pitch forward. Foster, meanwhile, had crawled across the floor to recover the knife. He jumped to his feet and whirled to face me, the knife in one hand and the kerosene bottle in the other. His features contorted with fury.

The table teetered for a moment on two legs and then toppled over, sending all of the laboratory equipment crashing to the floor in a clatter of broken glass and jangling metal. As the whirling disk and glass Foster tube struck the floor, the flame from a shattered Bunsen burner touched off a pool of spilled chemicals, sending jets of flame snaking across the floor in a wild pattern. At the sight of the spreading inferno, Foster darted forward to save his precious invention.