by Donna Tartt
He looked up at Pemberton.
“Say what you want to, I don’t care,” he said. “But she’s a genius.”
Pem laughed. “Sure she is,” he said, as he headed out the door. “Compared to you.”
Acknowledgments
I am indebted to Ben Robinson and Allan Slaight for their insights on Houdini and his life, to Drs. Stacey Suecoff and Dwayne Breining for their invaluable (and extensive) medical research, to Chip Kidd for his amazing eye, and to Matthew Johnson for answering my questions about the poisonous reptiles and muscle cars of Mississippi. I’d also like to thank Binky, Gill, Sonny, Bogie, Sheila, Gary, Alexandra, Katie, Holly, Christina, Jenna, Amber, Peter A., Matthew G., Greta, Cheryl, Mark, Bill, Edna, Richard, Jane, Alfred, Marcia, Marshall and Elizabeth, the McGloins, Mother and Rebecca, Nannie, Wooster, Alice and Liam, Peter and Stephanie, George and May, Harry and Bruce, Baron and Pongo and Cecil and—above all—Neal: I couldn’t have done it without you.
