The Last Illusion

by Unknown

  Thirteen

  What are you doing here?” Harry Houdini grabbed my wrist with a grip of such strength that I thought he’d snap my bones. “Who are you? If you are some damned reporter, you’ll be sorry you tried this stunt.”

  “Of course I’m not a reporter,” I said. “I came because I got a note from your wife this morning, begging me to come and see her. We are old friends.”

  “So how come I never met you before?” His grip on my wrist still hadn’t lessened. “I know all her friends.”

  “But we have met before,” I said. “The other night at the theater, remember? I had come to see Bess, and I was the one who took her up to her dressing room when she became so upset.”

  “So how do you know her? How come she has never mentioned you?”

  “We met through the theater,” I said, trying to think of something plausible while not telling an outright lie.

  He eyed me critically. “We’ve been together for almost ten years in the theater, and I don’t recall ever seeing you before.”

  “Why, we’ve had a couple of lovely talks this very week,” I said. “In fact, she invited me to watch the show from the wings last night. You didn’t see me but I was sitting just a few feet from that trunk. I witnessed the whole thing.”

  “Is that so?” His eyes narrowed. “That kind of thing has never happened to me before, you know. Harry Houdini’s equipment doesn’t let him down.”

  Without warning he grabbed me again, this time by the throat. He was only a small man, not quite as tall as I, but he was lifting me off the floor with one hand. “Okay, so who sent you? And you better tell the truth because I can crush your windpipe with no problem, trust me.”

  “Nobody sent me,” I croaked, because he was already putting considerable pressure on my throat. I tried to pry his hand away. It was like trying to remove an iron bar. “Your wife sent me a note to come and see her at the clinic. It’s downstairs with the nurse. You can check the handwriting.”

  “So Sie haben nichts mit Deutschland zu tun, gelt?” he asked.

  I could feel the blood singing in my head. “Whatever language that is, I don’t speak it,” I croaked. “Let go of me, before you kill me.”

  I don’t know what might have eventually happened but there was a shriek from the bed behind us. “Harry, what in God’s name are you doing? Let go of her this instant!”

  He released the hold on my neck. I collapsed onto a nearby chair, coughing and rubbing at my throat.

  “I found her in here, poopsie,” he said. “She was standing over your bed. I thought maybe she’d come to finish you off.”

  “Don’t be silly, Harry. She was the one I wrote the note to. You know, that note I asked you to deliver for me?” Bess said, “Is that the way you treat my friends?”

  “How was I to know she’s your friend?” Houdini looked sheepish now. “I never set eyes on her before.”

  “Sure you have. The other night at the theater.” She looked across at me. “I used to know her years ago, before I met you. When I was touring.”

  “When you were part of the Floral Sisters, Bess?” Harry asked.

  “Of course when I was part of the Floral Sisters. Molly was a sweet little kid in those days. Her parents were in the business, isn’t that right, Molly?”

  Her eyes were pleading with me to agree with her so I had no choice but to nod.

  “I’m so glad we chanced to meet up again,” Bess went on. “And you know what, Harry, she’s trying to get back into the business. I thought we could help her. And now I wake up and find you’re trying to kill her.”

  “How was I to know, baby?” he said sheepishly. “I see a strange woman standing over you. All I can think is that she’s come to finish off the job that she started last night. She’s come to do harm to me and my wife.”

  “Well, this is my dear old friend Molly Murphy. And you better apologize to her. Look at her. You scared her half to death,” Bess said angrily. If my throat hadn’t hurt so much, it would have been funny. Bess, lying frail and tiny in her bed and Harry, whose one hand could have crushed my throat, cowering at her attack on him.

  “How was I to know?” he repeated again. “I’m only trying to protect you, babykins. You know that.”

  “Apologize to her, Harry.”

  Houdini held out his hand. “I’m sorry, miss, but what was I to think?”

  “That’s all right. I do understand,” I said. “Especially after what happened last night.”

  His handshake nearly crushed my hand. This was one extremely strong man. I tried not to grimace.

  “I hope I didn’t hurt you too much,” he said, still looking sheepish. “All I thought was that someone had gotten in here to kill my wife.”

  “So someone has really been trying to harm you?” I asked.

  “Someone sure as hell tampered with that trunk last night,” Houdini said. “I got out with no problem, the same way I always do. Those locks on top, they’re really just there for show. They should snap open real easy, but one of them wouldn’t budge.”

  “I told you, Harry. Someone jammed that lock,” Bess said, propping herself up on one elbow. “And how come the only key was upstairs? What happened to the one you normally carry in your pocket? Someone was trying to kill me, right enough.”

  “Someone certainly fixed that lock.” Harry nodded his head vehemently. “Just like someone tampered with that poor sap Scarpelli’s equipment on Tuesday.”

  “That was awful, wasn’t it?” I said. “You haven’t heard what happened to her, by any chance, have you? Did she live? I’ve been looking in the papers but I haven’t seen a thing after that one first mention.”

  He shook his head. “Everyone in the business is talking about it. No one knows what happened or where he went to. Some say he just ran off because of the shame of it, and some say that he ran off because he killed her deliberately and the cops are after him. Some guys even think he stole the body and disposed of it.”

  “What do you think?” I asked.

  Houdini ran his hand through his thick black curls. “What do I think? I think he was rushing to do a trick he hadn’t perfected, if you want my opinion. When he heard I was coming back to America and was going to be on the same bill, he knew he had to do something out of the ordinary. As far as I know nobody’s tried to saw a lady in half onstage since some guy did it in France years ago. And there are no records of how he did it or whether it was always successful.”

  “You think it was an accident? A stunt gone wrong?” Bess demanded, her voice rising with hysteria now. “After what happened to me, Harry? Someone is out to get us. Isn’t that obvious?”

  Houdini nodded thoughtfully. “That certainly was no accident last night,” he said. “Bess and me, we’ve done that stunt every night for the past nine years and never had a problem with it. It’s as easy as pie.”

  “So how did Bess get into the trunk, if the lock was jammed?” I asked.

  Bess looked suddenly coy. “We can’t give our secrets away. Let’s just say it wasn’t through the lid.”

  “And you couldn’t get out the same way?”

  “Not without revealing to the whole world how it’s done. It’s our bread-and-butter piece, you know,” Bess said.

  “So you’d rather die than reveal how it was done?” I looked at her incredulously.

  “I thought Harry had the key in his jacket pocket.”

  “I see.” I looked from one of them to the other and a suspicion went through my head. Could this also have been some kind of stunt—some way of heightening the drama? But then Bess’s passing out was absolutely genuine. I was close enough to see how horribly pale she was, and how she regained consciousness gasping for breath. And her subsequent hysteria was genuine too.

  I eased forward on the chair. “So do you have any idea who might have done this? Has anybody threatened you at all?” Of course I was thinking of the overheard conversation in the theater and the neat young man with blond hair who had pushe
d past me in the dark hallway. I wondered if he was the same young man who had made what sounded like threats to Bess when he had shown up at their front door and Houdini wasn’t home. He’d be back, he had said.

  I looked at Houdini, but I didn’t detect any reaction as I said the words. Of course I suppose illusionists must have to master their expressions, and if he was being threatened by gangs, he certainly wasn’t going to divulge this to a strange woman, or to his wife. So I switched to another tack. “Is there someone in your world you can think of who carries a grudge or is out to get illusionists?”

  Harry laughed. “I can name a whole lot of guys who’d love to see the end of me. But none of them was in that theater last night.” He perched on the bed beside Bess and took her hand.

  “Are you sure? What about the other illusionists on the bill?” I asked.

  “Marvo and Robinson? Nah. They’re lightweights. They’ll never be headliners. And that sword swallower guy they brought in to replace Scarpelli—Abdullah? He was a carnival showman. Nothing to do with us.” He paused, and ran his tongue over his lips. “Now Scarpelli—he could have been a threat. We were in Germany together earlier this year and he said some pretty cutting things about me—how my handcuffs were a fraud and how I bribed people from the audience. I had a couple of my guys go over and straighten him out.”

  “You mean you sent men over to rough him up?” I asked, surprised.

  “Something like that. Just to give him a friendly warning.”

  “Harry, you never told me that!” Bess said.

  “I don’t tell you a lot of things, sweetie pie. I don’t like to worry you. But I’m not having fellow illusionists slandering me. What I usually do is send them a challenge—in public. The same handcuffs, the same stunt—let’s see who gets out first. I always win and they’re always sore losers. So in answer to your question, yes there are plenty of guys who would like to get even with me.”

  “Including someone called Risey, from Coney Island?”

  Houdini laughed. “That old guy? He was pathetic. I locked him in a box and I had to rescue him when he started hollering for help. He was in a real panic, I can tell you. Talk about egg all over his face.”

  “But I heard he is a powerful man on Coney Island and he had sworn to get even with you.”

  “Maybe he had, but that was a while ago. He’s all talk.”

  It suddenly struck me how dense I had been. “The sword swallower they brought in at the last minute. He came from the carnival on Coney Island. You don’t think there’s any connection, do you? You don’t think that Risey sent him to get even with you?”

  Harry frowned. Clearly he hadn’t considered this before. Then he shook his head. “Couldn’t be. The guy just got here and you know what? Whoever did this would have to be familiar with my act. How would an outsider know where the key was kept in my jacket? I’ve never had to use it until last night. Had to be one of us.”

  “And yet you don’t suspect the other performers?”

  “Nah.” He shook his head again and patted Bess’s hand. “They’re both decent guys. I’d trust my old mother with them.”

  “Speaking of your old mother, I went to your house looking for you. I hadn’t realized she lived with you.”

  “She’s just visiting,” Bess said quickly. “Usually she lives with Harry’s sister, Gladys, or sometimes she stays with his brother Leopold, the doctor.”

  “You have a brother who is a doctor?”

  Harry nodded. “That’s right. Lives on the Upper East Side so he’s come to visit us a couple of times. And my younger brother came up from Atlantic City, where he was performing to be with us too,” Harry said. “Did you meet my brother Dash? We’re a real close family, Bess can tell you that.”

  “They sure are. Harry treats his mother like a queen.”

  “She deserves it,” Harry said proudly. “She had to raise us kids alone in a new country when my father died. I promised him I’d look after her and I have. When I come back from this next tour in Europe, I’m going to buy her a house—a real fancy place, just like this clinic. In a good neighborhood in New York.”

  “My, you must be doing well,” I said.

  “Oh, we are,” Bess said, gazing at Harry adoringly. “Harry gets paid a fortune over in Europe. He only came home to see his mother, didn’t you, Harry? Otherwise he’d have stayed over there.”

  He sort of half nodded, then turned away. I was watching Harry and there was something in the way he looked away quickly that made me wonder. If he could make so much more money in Europe, why exactly had he left at the height of his success and come home? Was it only just to see his old mother?

  Bess propped herself up and leaned against her husband. “Did you know that the Tsar of Russia wanted to make him his right-hand man. He thinks Harry is in touch with the spirits or the supernatural or something.” She gazed up at Harry and laughed.

  “I should have stayed. Maybe they’d have made me a prince. Given me a palace or two,” Houdini said jokingly.

  “You know very well there was no way I’d have ever lived in Russia,” Bess said angrily. “And to tell you the truth, I’ve no wish to go back to Germany.”

  “I told you, poopsie, you can stay in England next time I go over there. All right? Now don’t get yourself into another state.”

  I got to my feet. “Maybe I should be going. I know that Bess is supposed to have absolute quiet.”

  I looked across at Bess. If she had summoned me so urgently, was she going to let me go again? Was this meeting just designed for me to meet Harry, and nothing more?

  “Thank you for coming, Molly,” Bess said, holding out her hand to me.

  In the manner of old friends I took it and bent to kiss her on the cheek. “My pleasure, Bess. I’ll come and visit you again any time you want.”

  “I look forward to that. I hope to be out of this crummy place by the end of today, don’t you think, Harry?”

  “Crummy place? Bess, this is costing a fortune. And the doctor thinks your nerves need treating.”

  “Yes, but it’s creepy here. I’d rather be at home. You’ll ask the doctor, won’t you?”

  “Whatever you say, babykins. If you’re sure you’re well enough to go home.”

  “I’m feeling much better. So maybe you’ll come and see me at the house then, Molly.” She was still clinging tightly to my hand. In spite of her frail appearance she also had a grip of steel. And she was staring hard at me, her eyes imploring. “You know the address, don’t you?”

  I nodded and started to walk toward the door, unsure how to prolong this interview even though it was obvious Bess didn’t want me to leave. Was there some kind of hint I should have picked up from Bess upon which I should be acting?

  I paused at the doorway, waiting for her to say more. I decided to give her one more chance to say something. “Mr. Houdini, do you think that maybe you should mention what happened last night to the police—if you really believe that someone was trying to interfere with your act, then that’s a crime, isn’t it? It could even have been murder.”

  “We don’t want the police involved,” Harry snapped, dismissing me with a wave of his hand. “I’m only here for a couple of weeks longer. What kind of crowd would we get with police tramping all over the theater? Likely as not they’d shut us down. Don’t worry yourself, Miss—Murphy—is it?”

  “Just call her Molly,” Bess said, “since she’s going to be your friend as well.”

  “So don’t worry yourself, Molly. Believe me, I’m going to be taking extra care in future, double-checking everything—until I get back on that liner sailing for Europe.”

  “You’re going to perform tonight at the theater then?” I asked. “Even though Bess is laid up like this?”

  “I can’t let my American fans down and Mr. Irving has been good to us in the past. And now he’s paying us good money. Besides, I can do the act without her,” he said. “Of course I can’t do the Metamorphosis by myself, nor the mind-r
eading part, but the public comes to see the handcuffs, don’t they, baby?”

  “But you always said that the mind reading puts them in the right mood to believe anything, didn’t you?” Bess said, looking up at him adoringly.

  “Your brother says he used to do the Metamorphosis with you,” I suggested. “Maybe he could help you out.”

  Houdini laughed. “That was when he was a skinny kid. Have you seen him now? There’s no way he’d fit into that trunk these days. Besides, he’s got his own act now. Know what he calls himself? Hardeen. Don’t they say that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery?”

  “So he does what you do?”

  “Pretty much. Handcuffs, escapes, all the same kind of thing. Doing okay at it too. Of course he’s not in my league yet.”

  The brother who just arrived in town and who called himself Hardeen. I wondered if he now saw Houdini as a rival, maybe.

  “Harry, I’ve just had the cleverest idea,” Bess said suddenly. “Molly wants to get back into show business. Why don’t you use her in the act, just until I’m on my feet again? I’m sure she’s a quick learner and we could teach her the simplest of the mind-reading tricks.”

  Houdini looked at me critically, then burst out laughing. “You want to use her in the act? Are you crazy? Look at her.”

  I didn’t find this very flattering, I can tell you. I may not be petite but I’m not ugly.

  “What do you mean? She’d look fine in the right costume and makeup,” Bess said.

  “But she’s too big. She’s as big as I am. There’s no way she could get into the trunk.”

  “Of course not,” Bess said. “I’m not saying she could do the Metamorphosis. You could do that other stunt by yourself. You know, the one where they put the handcuffs on you and chain up the trunk? The one you did when I didn’t come along with you to Russia. The audience loves that one.”