The Last Illusion (24 page)

“Risey? That’s right. Houdini made a fool of him—but that was years ago and Risey no longer holds the power he once did.”

“I went to Coney Island today and talked to Abdullah—whose real name is Mike, by the way and he’s Irish like us. I didn’t sense that he had anything to hide. In fact the only indication I got was that he was
interested in me. He wanted to take me to supper after the show—don’t scowl, Daniel.”

“It all comes down to what the motive was behind this,” Daniel said.

“Until now I was wondering whether it was to discredit famous illusionists and wreck their acts. First Scarpelli’s act goes horribly wrong, then Bess is trapped in a trunk and has to be rescued. So I would have said at that time that we might be looking for a disgruntled magician who felt he had been denied the limelight.”

“If you feel you’ve been denied the limelight, do you go around killing people?” Daniel said quietly. “I suppose these entertainers are more highly strung than most, but it would have to be some kind of personal grudge or affront wouldn’t it? Was Houdini not well liked and respected?”

“Bess Houdini told me that other illusionists were jealous of Harry, also that he dealt his own brand of justice to anyone who challenged him or copied him or called him a fraud.”

“Meaning what?”

“Usually a challenge—Houdini would set up some kind of public escape stunt and see who could escape more quickly. But I gather that he had sent men to pay a call and rough someone up before now. Bess said he did that to Scarpelli when they were in Germany.”

“I see. That puts a whole different complexion on things, doesn’t it? Someone else could have sent his own men to repay the compliment. Maybe one of those men was the guy who now lies dead on the stage. Houdini surprised him and dealt him a fatal blow, then realized he’d committed murder and pulled off this stunt.”

“That does seem possible, I suppose,” I said. “But that young man—he wouldn’t be the sort you’d send to rough somebody up, would he? Houdini could have made mincemeat of him if he’d wanted—” I broke off as I realized what I had just said.

He glanced at the door. “We should go back to the others. So the next step would be to check out the men on tonight’s bill and then see which other illusionists might be in the vicinity of New York.”

“That would include Scarpelli,” I said. “I take it he still hasn’t been found.”

“You’re right,” he said.

“Maybe Scarpelli thought that Houdini was somehow responsible for what went wrong that night,” I suggested. “And we know that he had an old score to settle.”

“And maybe he got rid of his assistant in what he hoped would be taken as an accident. But then realized he had witnesses who had seen him tampering with his equipment so that it would not operate as planned, so he realized they had to go too. Perhaps this young man was one who spotted him. But then nobody in the whole theater seemed to recognize him, which is strange. We won’t know any more until we find out who he is.”

“How will we do that?”

“We’ll try to get his photograph to the newspapers in time for them to insert it into tomorrow’s edition,” he said. “And it’s possible that someone will come forward to say that a husband or son is missing. Other than that . . .” He shrugged expressively.

“Come on, let’s go and rejoin the party.” He bent to give me a quick kiss as he passed me.

“Don’t do that. You really will make them suspicious if you come back with lipstick on you,” I said, wiping away the tell tale red mark from his lips. He managed a smile as he went to escort me out of the office.

“That ring in your pocket,” I couldn’t resist saying. “I take it that it was meant for me.”

“Now what gave you that idea?” He looked back at me, then nodded. “It was.”

“Was? You’ve changed your mind?”

He must have seen my face. What woman can know that her fiancé has a ring in his pocket meant for her and not want to see it?

“Later, Molly,” he said. “This is neither time nor place to give it to you. As you said, we’re both working. Now march.” And he slapped my behind.

Just before we came back onto the stage he took my arm. “Oh, and Molly, I’ve been thinking.” He said in a low voice, “You promised you would visit Mrs. Houdini in the morning. That might be most fortuitous.
See if you can get any more out of her, or out of Houdini’s brother. They may know more than they’ve been telling you. And it’s possible he’ll have tried to contact them by morning if he is on the run.”

“So I see you now want my help after all,” I said. “That’s nice to know.”

“It’s just that she already trusts you and I presume she doesn’t know of your connection to me?”

“I don’t believe so.”

“So she may be willing to reveal more to a dear friend in a moment of distress than she would to one of my men.”

“You see, women do have their advantages,” I said triumphantly.

“I’ve never doubted that you have many advantages,” he said, eyeing me in a completely un professional manner.

MacAffrey looked up expectantly as we came back onto the stage. “Nothing so far, sir,” he said. “The men have gone over the whole place. It’s like a warren back there. Underground tunnels and walkways up above. But I can guarantee he’s not still hiding here.”

“And what about these men?” Daniel’s gaze swept from the illusionists to the stagehands. “Did none of them see anything unusual? Presumably that large bag containing the body must have lain somewhere before it was placed in the trunk. And whoever placed it there would have had to have carried or dragged it. That would take a strong man or men. Didn’t anyone hear sounds of dragging or bumping down steps?”

Blank faces met him.

“Someone’s always on duty backstage during a performance,” the theater manager said, “especially when there are illusionists on the bill. They like someone to keep an eye on their equipment at all times.”

“And which of you men did that?”

“Reg and I were working that side of the stage,” Ernest said, “and Mr. Irving himself stands there between announcements.”

“And the trunk was exactly where before it was brought onto the stage?”

“I’ll show you,” I said. “I saw Houdini himself double-check it right before the act.”

“And did you happen to see if it was empty then?”

“It was,” I said. “I saw him open it.”

“And how long have you been his assistant, miss?” Detective MacAffrey asked.

“I’m just taking the place of his wife, since she suffered that accident earlier this week,” I said.

“I see.” MacAffrey glanced at Daniel. “So you’re new to this theater? Have you worked with Houdini before? Does Captain Sullivan have all the details of where you’ve worked before tonight?”

“I have a complete statement from her, MacAffrey,” Daniel said, holding up a hand to stop the question. “I’ll fill you in on all the details on the cab ride back to Mulberry Street.”

“Can we go yet?” one of the audience volunteers demanded angrily. “I’ve given my statement. I don’t know if my wife has gone home or if she’s still waiting for me outside and I certainly don’t want her on the street alone at this time of night.”

Daniel glanced at MacAffrey. “I think we can let them go, don’t you? If you have names and addresses and statements from everyone here.”

“I think so, sir.”

“Very well then. Off you go.” He looked up at the theater manager. “I presume you’ll want to stay around to make sure the place is secured for the night. We may be a while yet.”

Mr. Irving shrugged resignedly. “And my stage doorkeeper? Can he go home?”

“We’ve already questioned him, sir,” one of the constables said to Daniel. “He claims Houdini could not have come past him, and he confirms that the man called Marvo left before Houdini’s act started.”

“I think I’d like a brief word with him myself before he goes,” Daniel said. “I’ll escort this young woman out that way and find her a cab. It’s time she went home too.” He ushered me from the stage.

Once we stepped into the gloom beyond the side curtains he moved closer to me. “How well do you know this place?”

“Not that well. I know where the dressing rooms are and I’ve poked around a bit backstage.”

“You know which dressing room was Houdini’s?”

“Of course.”

He sighed. “I don’t suppose there is any point in taking another look in it. My men will have done a thorough job.”

“And there’s nowhere to hide. It’s quite Spartan in there.”

“All the same, I think I will take a look. He may have left some kind of clue that has been overlooked. Where is it?”

“Up those stairs and along the hall. He has his name and a star on his door. You can’t miss it.”

“And the other dressing rooms are also up there?”

“They are, including mine. Can I get changed now? I’m freezing and I can’t go home looking like this.”

“Of course you can’t. Come on, then. Show me your room first.”

I took him up the stairs and he took a brief look around the long, bleak room. “Not very inviting, is it?” he said. “I’ll leave you to get changed while I take a look down the hall.”

“All right.” He left and I found I was so tired and upset that it was hard to undo the hooks. I fumbled my way into my street clothes. I only then realized that I hadn’t taken off my theater makeup and was about to do so when there was a tap at the door and Daniel’s face appeared around it. “Ready to go then? I’ll see you to your cab. You look worn out.”

“It’s the shock,” I said. “I’m not used to bodies turning up on a regular basis.”

“After this, let us hope that you will have no future contact with such unpleasant matters,” he said firmly and ushered me down the hallway, grasping my elbow. “Is this the way out?”

“Yes, this leads to the stage door,” I said.

Old Ted’s head stuck out of his cubicle as we approached. “How long am I expected to hang around here?” he demanded. “I’m not as young as I used to be.”

“Just a few questions and you can go home,” Daniel said. “And I’d like you to take a look at the body that has turned up in Houdini’s trunk. I’m just going to find this young woman a cab and then I’ll be right back.”

“If you ask me,” Ted said, eyeing me steadily, “all the trouble started when that one showed up for the first time. If she’s not involved then she’s a Jonah—bringing us bad luck. I hope you’ve questioned her thoroughly and you’re not just letting her go.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve found out everything there is to know about her,” Daniel said, “and you’re right. Trust me, I’m keeping my eye on her from now on.”

“Thank you for ruining my reputation,” I said as we emerged into the alleyway.

Daniel grinned. “At this moment it’s more useful if they think you’re a suspect not hand in hand with the police.”

We came out to the Bowery. Even at this late hour there was still some traffic—a trolley going past, the odd cab or carriage clip-clopping on the cobbles, and some establishments were still open, but it was quiet compared to the daytime bustle.

“Just be careful,” Daniel muttered as he hailed a hansom cab for me. “One illusionist’s assistant has already come to a tragic end this week.”

Then he helped me up into the cab, gave some money to the driver, and hurried back into the theater.

Twenty

E
arly the next morning I was leaving Patchin Place, on my way to Bess Houdini’s house, when I bumped into Gus coming home with a bag of fresh rolls and the morning paper.

“You’re up bright and early,” she said. “Come and have breakfast and hear about our ordeal at the cottage.”

“Ordeal?”

“My dear, you were so right not to have accompanied us. If we’d known what a boring and bigoted bunch they would be, we’d never have gone. Nothing but tittle-tattle and gossip of the most idle sort, and worse still, my cousin’s wife’s mother spent the whole weekend trying to get me together with her unmarried son—who had pimples and a stutter—and kept lecturing me on how life was passing me by and I’d be doomed to be a hopeless spinster. She was quite put out when I told her that I didn’t mind that prospect at all.”

“I’d love to come and hear all about it,” I said, “but I’m afraid I’m working. I take it you haven’t read that paper you are carrying yet.”

“I haven’t, but the newsboy was yelling something about a murder in the theater and Houdini having vanished,” she said.