The Last Illusion (27 page)

D
aniel squatted beside her.

“Are you sure?”

She looked up and nodded. “Quite sure. I already explained to Molly how we manage to pull off the switch so quickly. The back of the trunk is only held together with two screws that come out real easy, and then it swings open. This one is solid, see?” She banged on it. “Apart from that it’s an excellent copy, from what I can see.”

Daniel continued to stare at the trunk. “So someone knew exactly what your trunk looked like and had a copy made. How easy would it have been to get a good, close-up look at the trunk?”

“Well, you’d only have to come to the show for a couple of nights to get a good look, wouldn’t you?” she said. “And during our act it’s right there, in the wings, until it’s needed, so anybody backstage could get a good look at it then.”

“So that’s why the keys didn’t work!” I exclaimed.

They looked up at me. “When the trunk wouldn’t open I found the keys in Houdini’s pocket, but neither of them worked. Because it was a different trunk.”

“Someone has gone to a lot of trouble to pull this off,” Daniel said, staring down at the empty trunk. There was no sign of bloodstains and it was hard to imagine that a body had lain in it not too long ago. “In New York there are plenty of dark alleys and hired killers if you just want to get rid of someone. And the body turns up floating down the Hudson a few days later. This person wanted to do more than kill someone. But what?”

“I can think of several answers to that,” I said. “Either he wanted to publicly humiliate Houdini, at the same time as paying him back, or he wanted to send a strong message to the entire band of illusionists. Or—” I paused, collecting my thoughts. “He just wanted to show how clever he was.”

“Or none of the above,” Daniel said. “There is a fourth scenario. Houdini himself finding a clever way to get rid of an annoyance.”

“No!” Bess said again. “You’ve seen how Harry deals with his rivals. He challenges them. And he always wins. He’s an honorable man, Captain Sullivan, not a dirty trickster who stabs in the dark.”

“Let’s hope you’re right, Mrs. Houdini, for your sake as well as mine,” Daniel said. “Now, I’d like you to show us your dressing room, where your props were kept—anything that might help us uncover where and how the trunks might have been switched. Are you up to that?”

“I’ll try,” she said, “but Molly could show you those things.”

“I want your perspective on this. You were the only one who could tell us that the trunks had been switched, after all. So let’s start right before your act. You stand in the wings where?”

Bess led him through the curtains and indicated the spot.

“And who else would be standing nearby?”

“Stagehands. The theater manager.”

“We’re having our men check into their backgrounds,” Daniel said, “but I don’t see that any of them could have the skill to pull this off.”

“Besides,” I said, “we’d have noticed a second trunk. I was in Bess’s place last night, remember? I helped carry the trunk onto the stage.”

“How heavy was it?”

“Not too heavy. Certainly not heavy enough to have a body in it.”

Daniel poked around a bit. “There’s not much room back here. Nowhere to hide that second trunk, apart from among these curtains. Then the passage to the manager’s office goes off and the stairs to all the dressing rooms, is that correct?”

“That’s right,” Bess said. “And over to your left is the way to the stage door, and around on the left side of the stage is the stage manager’s office and the props room.”

“But you didn’t keep your props in that room?”

“None of the illusionists do. They all have their own crate or some way of keeping their props locked up. Illusionists are always worried that a rival will see something and steal their act.”

“But we know your husband was a whiz at opening locks. Presumably there are other illusionists who are equally skilled?”

“Not as good as Harry, but sure, there are men who have tried to call themselves the handcuff king. Cheek, if you ask me. But none of them was working here.”

Daniel sighed. “That’s just it. Any outsider would have been noticed. There’s just not that much room backstage and nowhere to hide, and stagehands all over the place. Now you’d better show me the way up to your dressing room. I went over it last night, but again you might notice something that we haven’t.”

Bess led the way up the stairs, looked around her dressing room, and shook her head. “It’s all just the way it was. There’s my costume and there are Harry’s street clothes, waiting for him to change back into . . .” She burst into tears again.

Daniel glanced over her head at me. “I’ll have one of my constables escort you home, Mrs. Houdini. You’re clearly not up to anything more here today. But I would ask you to do one thing for me when you feel a little better. Remember I asked you to write down everything you have done since you came back to America—every person you’ve seen, every person who has spoken to your husband. I’d also like a list of any illusionist you can think of who was at odds with your husband.
Those famous challenges. Anybody who might have considered himself your husband’s rival.”

“He has scrapbooks,” I said. “From what I could see, he has all of these challenges pretty well documented.”

“Then we’ll compare the scrapbooks to Mrs. Houdini’s own recollections,” Daniel said. “Maybe something will emerge. Maybe there’s one name that he left out.”

Bess nodded. “All right. I’ll try and remember everything.”

Daniel helped her back down the stairs and gave instructions to one of the constables.

“Are you coming with me, Molly?” she asked.

I looked at Daniel.

“I’d like to keep this young woman a little longer,” he said. “I have some more questions for her. Your husband’s mother is with you, is she not? And his brother?”

“His brother has gone back to Atlantic City. He left early this morning,” I said, and a quick look passed between us.

“He has another brother who is a doctor, doesn’t he?” Daniel said. “Maybe he can be summoned to attend to you.”

That’s odd, I thought. When Bess almost died, why did Houdini take her to a private clinic instead of summoning his brother, who was a doctor?

As she made her way down the theater aisle she turned back to us. “You will let me know the minute you have any news, won’t you?”

“I will, and the same goes for you, Mrs. Houdini. If your husband tries to contact you, please let us know.”

With that she pushed open the doors and was for a moment a black silhouette against the fierce sunlight outside.

“So what do you think?” Daniel asked me as soon as we were alone. “Did he do it?”

“I don’t know what to think,” I said.

“But I saw your reaction when you told me that the brother had left for Atlantic City.”

I nodded. “Yes, it just struck me as being too conve nient that he had
to go out of town before the police could talk to him. Maybe this is family business, Daniel. They’re a very close-knit family. Houdini worships his mother. He pampers a neurotic wife, calls her ‘babykins’ and ‘poopsie’ and other such ridiculous nicknames.”

“I gather you won’t want to be called such things when we’re married,” Daniel said.

I gave him a withering stare.

“Go on,” he said. “So what are you suggesting?”

“The brother who just did a bunk—he was Houdini’s younger brother. He’d been part of the act until Bess came along. Some resentment there at his brother’s success, maybe? He seems a nice enough fellow. They look very similar, although Dash is bigger.”

“Dash?”

“That’s his nickname. His real name is Theodore, I believe, but the family calls him Dash and he’s known professionally as Hardeen.”

Daniel gave me a knowing look. “Somewhat similar to Houdini, wouldn’t you say? Cashing in on big brother.”

“Or wanting to be like big brother.”

“And he’s another illusionist. Does the same kind of tricks,” Daniel said thoughtfully.

“And he’s close enough to his brother in appearance that nobody would look twice if he were prowling around backstage,” I went on.

“And he was in the theater last night, wasn’t he? In the stage box. It would have been easy enough to slip out and back again without Bess even noticing that he’d gone.”

“Do you think he planned this to kill or harm his brother, or do you think he planned this whole thing with his brother, to get rid of a person they found to be a nuisance?”

“I hadn’t considered that before,” I said, “but who would the dead man be? Someone who was somehow disrupting the family?”

Daniel put a hand on my shoulder, his eyes alight. “What if he was bothering Bess Houdini—an old suitor maybe? Someone Harry didn’t want hanging around her.”

I shook my head. “She didn’t recognize him immediately.”

“Maybe she didn’t look at him too closely. Women are squeamish about looking at dead bodies—apart from you, of course, who seem to possess no delicate sensibilities of your sex.”

“You’re right. I’ve never had the vapors in my life.” I laughed, then grew serious again as I considered his hypothesis. “I’d imagine Houdini could be horribly jealous. You should have seen the way he fussed over her.”

“Now we’re getting somewhere. So he enlists his brother to do the deed, then somehow they manage to switch trunks, and Houdini is spirited away.” Daniel nodded in satisfaction.

“But you’ve seen how upset Bess gets at the least little thing. Wouldn’t she have been more upset when she saw it was an old flame?” I asked.

“She was upset, remember. She was quite hysterical. The brother had to take her home.”

“So she was. You know what, Daniel? I think I might take a little trip to Atlantic City.”

“Oh, no.” Daniel shook his head. “I’m not letting you go chatting to a potential murderer.”

“But don’t you see, I’m the ideal person. He thinks of me as Bess’s dear friend from childhood. I could find out more easily than the police could. I could even say that she sent me up there because she had some things she wanted to ask him.”

“What things?”

“I’d think those out on the train,” I said confidently.

When he didn’t answer I said, “Well, I’m going whether you approve or not. I’ve been hired by Bess and I have to do all I can for her. At the very least Dash can give me a hint where his brother might be hiding out, and I can let Bess know he’s alive and safe.”

“And if he actually killed his older brother? What then?”

“I’m no threat to him, I told you. He would have no idea I’m working with the police. I’ll tread very carefully, Daniel. If I get any hint of danger, I’ll back off, I promise.”

“This is criminal business, Molly. It is absolutely out of the question for you to go to see this man. If I’m to go along with your intuition, then I’ll contact my colleagues in the police department at Atlantic
City. If you want to be of help to us, then your place is at Bess’s side. It’s just possible she may be in on this and Houdini will send her a message.” He gave me an appeasing smile. “So you see, you will be providing valuable assistance.”

“Oh, yes,” I said. “ ‘Valuable assistance.’ ”

We stood in the darkness of the backstage area while I fought to contain my temper. I suppose part of me didn’t want to travel to confront Houdini’s brother, but I was still driven by that stupid desire to prove myself as a detective. I didn’t want to be the one who provided “valuable assistance.”

Strange, cold drafts wafted up from below us. Daniel shivered. “At least this is a good place to come on a hot day,” he said. He looked around. “This theater is more extensive than I thought. Plenty of opportunities to hide a body. Look at those walkways up there.”

“They’re called the flies, Daniel. They use them when they’re rigging backdrops. But you’d have to be a mighty strong person to carry a body up and down those ladders. I’ve been up one, so I know.”

“Why doesn’t that surprise me.” Daniel rolled his eyes. “But look. That ladder carries on down, below the stage.”

And indeed there was a hole cut in the floor with the ladder descending on down into darkness.

“I didn’t notice that last night,” he added.

“It must lead to a storage area under the stage.” I went over and peered down. The cold draft came up to meet me. Below was complete darkness.

“I wonder if there are any electric lights down below,” Daniel said. “There is little point in going down to no light. I wonder if my men actually discovered this last night. I’d better take a look.”

“I’ll come with you,” I said.

“I’ll go down first and see if I can find a light switch.” He started down the ladder. I watched his head disappear into darkness, feeling a knot in the pit of my stomach. Surely everyone at the theater knew about this basement area? Surely it had been searched last night? I heard Daniel give a muttered curse.

“What?” I called.

“Hit my shin on some kind of box,” he said. “And I can feel no kind of light switch on the wall.”

“They are bound to have a lamp or at least candles in the props room,” I said. “I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.”

Sure enough I found an impressive candelabra among the props, rooted out some candles and then matches to light them.

“Holy Mother of God, you look like the Ghost of Christmas Past, standing there like that!” Daniel exclaimed as he spotted me standing above him. I handed down the candelabra, then climbed down myself. It was indeed pitch-black down there and smelled damp and musty, as if it flooded during rainstorms. We picked our way forward, searching the various piles of wood, boxes, and old scenery that had been dumped there. At least, I let Daniel do the searching. I had no wish to touch a spider, or worse. But we found nothing.

“They must have searched this last night,” Daniel said. “See all these footprints in the dust on the floor?”

Suddenly there came a strong draft. The candles flickered, danced, and went out.

“Damn it,” Daniel muttered.

I wanted to grab on to Daniel’s arm but forced myself not to. I had my reputation of being a fearless detective to live up to. But instead of being in total darkness we found the floor painted with thin stripes of light from above. Light was shining through the cracks in the floorboards and ahead of us was a larger square of light.