Who Done Houdini

by Raymond John

  “How exciting,” I mumbled, fearing what was coming next.

  Violet moved closer and continued in a conspiratorial tone. “There’s even some gossip in the confession magazines that Miss Stanwyck is playing hanky-panky with the actor who plays the crook.”

  When I didn’t answer, her voice became wheedling. “I really want to see it, dearest. Do you think we can talk Mr. Holmes into going with us?”

  “I doubt it, and I’m really sorry to disappoint you. It’ll be all right with me if Mr. Holmes takes you, though.”

  “Stop being a wet blanket! This is New York, for Pete’s sake. I want to have some fun while we’re here.”

  “I’ve had more than enough fun already.”

  Her expression was breaking my heart, and I relented. “Okay. Find out when it starts. maybe I’ll feel more like it after we eat. To tell you the truth, I’d be perfectly happy to get a bite right now.”

  “Ooh, thank you,” Violet said, planting a noisy kill on my left cheek.

  The desk beneath the sign was empty, and I stepped over to the check-in desk. “Where is the concierge?”

  “He stepped out. I can tell him you want tickets and you can pick them up from me when you leave for the theatre.”

  “What time does the show start?” I asked.

  “Eight o’clock.”

  “That’s only an hour from now. I wanted to get something to eat, and I don’t know if we have enough time.”

  “Just go into the restaurant. The head waiter will get you to your play before the curtain rises.”

  “Thanks. Will you please ring Dr. Claybrook’s room?”

  We met Holmes at the elevator. In a jovial tone, he said, “You must be very hungry. I having even had time to open my suitcase yet.”

  I rolled my eyes. “We’ve decided to go to a play.”

  Holmes pulled out his pocket watch and frowned.

  “A play. Do you have enough time to eat and arrive in time?”

  “The desk clerk says we do.”

  “Are we dressed all right?” Violet asked, looking around.

  “Tails are optional,” said Holmes.

  I flashed a wan smile.

  We were greeted by a formally dressed host at the door. Sounds of polite laughter and tinkling glass filled the air. Tails may have been optional, but I didn’t see a single person who wasn’t wearing evening wear. I was sure every eye was on my humble black business suit, white shirt, and black tie.

  “My friends are attending a play and are concerned they won’t have enough time to dine here tonight.”

  The man handed us a menu that must have been five-feet tall.

  “If you order the evening special, I’ll put the order in immediately. That should give you just enough time to make it to the theatre.”

  The special looked very inviting. Oysters on the half shell as a starter, followed by beef consommé and a greens salad, then for the main course, poached salmon with truffles sauce, pommes de terre au garlique, and steamed broccoli. It sounded good, and was offered without a price.

  I wasn’t exactly sure what we would be getting. I certainly knew what oysters, salmon, and broccoli were. I could only guess what pommes de terre meant except whatever it was came with garlic. I also knew what oysters were supposed to do for your love life. I hoped this won’t shock you, but let us just say that nearly anything would be an improvement in that area.

  “We’ll take that,” Holmes said.

  “Very well. Please follow me.”

  I cringed with each step, certain every eye was on my impoverished dress. In truth, no one seemed to be watching. Violet nodded and smiled to everyone who looked in our direction.

  She was in her element. Unfortunately, the posh surroundings only brought back unpleasant memories of my shady past.

  The only time I was ever arrested was when I was ten and gainfully employed by Holmes. I tried to lift a gentleman’s pocket watch as he waited for his brougham outside of the Savoy in London. A Peeler nabbed me. Mr. Holmes nearly terminated my employment on the spot, and never forgave me. Needless to say, it was my only fall from grace the entire time I knew him. I still don’t know why I did it. I was making good money. Maybe I needed to prove to myself I still had the old skills. For whatever reason, I had let myself down as badly as I had Holmes.

  “Here we are,” the host said. I was happy we were stuck away in a less-crowded corner.

  “I talked to Sir Arthur this afternoon,” Holmes said. “He’s staying at the Boston Park Hotel and will meet us at the train station when we arrive the day after tomorrow. He says he is very excited about the prospect of our meeting Margery. Quite frankly, so am I. Sir Arthur agreed to wait until we could go with him.”

  “It should be quite an education.” I paused. “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but I want you to know it isn’t necessary to buy us expensive meals every time we eat. Chicken and hamburgers are fine.”

  I could tell from his expression it wouldn’t be fine with him. “Don’t trouble yourselves in that regard. I’m enjoying our sojourn immensely, and I want you to experience a little of the better things in life while you can. Everything is well within my budget, dear friends.”

  “That’s very reassuring. Do you think it’d be a good idea to visit Houdini’s grave before we leave? We could take the subway to Queens.”

  “I doubt very much if there would be anything to be learned there for me. However, if you and Violet want to go there while I’m at work in the Public Library tomorrow, please feel free to do so.”

  I began to suspect Holmes was concerned about keeping Violet entertained.

  Totally baseless, of course. She could keep herself busy and would love to find some way to aid in the investigation. I would have to let Holmes know neither of us considered this a vacation.

  As if reading my mind, he continued, “Tomorrow will most likely be the last day you’ll have for sightseeing. We have a busy schedule ahead for us for the next few days, and I’ll need your assistance.”

  “We’re both anxious to help in any way possible,” Violet said.

  “I know you are. What play are you going to see?”

  “The Noose,” Violet said. I let her explain. The plot sounded a bit implausible to me: a criminal son killing his father so the father ­couldn’t blackmail a senator and thereby put the mother in the middle about what she should do. Nonetheless, Holmes listened with a straight face.

  Our meals arrived as she was finishing. The waiter removed the plates from his cart and laid them in front of us.

  I looked at my watch and saw we had forty-five minutes to eat and get to the theatre. I quickly regretted we’d have to rush through the wondrous feast. The pomme de terre dish was mashed potatoes with garlic and the salmon tasted as though it must have been caught minutes before the kitchen cooked it.

  Violet was even more impressed, expressing loud “mmm”s with each bite.

  No one spoke another word throughout the meal, and we finished with twenty-five minutes to get to the theatre.

  As we got up to leave, Violet shocked me—and probably Holmes, as well—by kissing him on his forehead. I’m sure he must have been caught off-guard or he wouldn’t have put up with it. He merely said, “Enjoy the show.”

  I stopped at the desk to pick up the tickets.

  “Will you need any extras?” the clerk asked as he handed them to me.

  I had considered asking Holmes to join us, but I hadn’t made the inquiry. “No. Why do you ask?”

  “Someone called about an hour ago and said he and his wife were from Detroit and recognized you. They asked if there were any more tickets available near you for the show. I told him there were still some left on the top row. They didn’t ask me to put them aside, so I assumed they asked you to buy the tick
ets and meet them at the theatre.”

  “Did they give you their names?”

  “No. I was surprised they didn’t.”

  Perplexed, I slipped the tickets in my pocket and joined Violet. I repeated what the clerk said. “I have no idea who that could be. Do you?”

  “I can’t imagine! If they recognized us earlier, why didn’t they greet us? This is very strange, but I expect we’ll find out soon enough.”

  Chapter 15

  A cab awaited a fare outside our door and we arrived at the theatre ten minutes later.

  I had never been in such a well-dressed mob scene before. All I saw was swallowtail coats and diamonds. Only the lights on the marquee outnumbered the theatre-goers. Someone told me the owners had two employees who did nothing other than replacing them when they burned out.

  Surrounded by opulence, I wanted to find our seats as quickly as possible. Fortunately, we didn’t have to spend much time in the lobby. The ticket-taker pointed to a staircase at his left. Following the signs, we climbed three flights to find our seats.

  A man wearing a red suit and pillbox hat—I always thought of an organ-grinder’s monkey when I saw one—looked at the tickets, then pointed to our seats with his flashlight. As suspected, K was at the very top. We had the entire row to ourselves. Despite the location, the view to the stage was surprisingly good, and patrons on the main floor didn’t look like overgrown ants in formal wear. I paid a silent compliment to the architects and the late Henry Harris for the excellent design of his theatre.

  The house lights dimmed, then came up again.

  All smiles, Violet took my arm and snuggled against me. “I’m so glad you decided to come.”

  I kissed her cheek. “Me, too.”

  Finally the lights went out completely, leaving the theatre dark. A light zephyr brushed against my cheek as the balcony door opened and the usher stepped out. Below us, the curtains opened on a large desk, and a man in a well-tailored suit sitting behind it. Onstage, the phone rang.

  Almost simultaneously, I felt the puff of air against my cheek. Seconds later, a tiny beam of light flashed across our backs. I’ve always hated latecomers, especially when I paid fifteen dollars for the tickets. I turned my attention back to the stage.

  “Governor Lonergan speaking,” the actor said.

  Whoever came in remained standing in the darkness behind us. I wondered why the usher didn’t help him find his seat, then realized the latecomer was standing there alone. My spine tingled. The door hadn’t opened again, so the usher couldn’t have left. Something was wrong. The inquiry about the tickets was to find out where we would be sitting. My heart skipped a beat when I realized we were silhouetted against the stage.

  Long-ago memories of defending my Public House trapline flashed in my mind.

  Strike suddenly and unexpectedly.

  Violet noticed I wasn’t watching the play and elbowed me.

  On stage, Governor Lonergan said, “I received your request for a pardon, and I’m considering what to do.”

  The shadowy figure behind us made a motion toward his jacket pocket.

  “Hit the floor!” I shouted, pushing Violet head first. Years disappeared as I turned, made a handspring over the back of my seat and landed my full weight on the interloper.

  Something hot chugged next to my left ear, then something heavy dropped to the floor.

  The sound of our scuffle caught the balcony audience’s attention. I couldn’t hold on to my attacker, and he pushed me away. I caught his leg, but he shook me off and, gasping for breath, dashed for the door. I scrambled to my feet to give chase, but the assailant was already out through the balcony door. As I went through I collided with the usher.

  “What’s going on?” he asked. “I heard a disturbance.”

  I stepped aside. “No time to explain. Get the police.”

  I saw him dash through the lobby. By the time I reached it, he had disappeared. Even from behind, I recognized him immediately. Albert Becker was in full flight just a few feet ahead of me.

  Rushing feet assaulted the granite floor of the lobby. The door slammed loudly against the frame as I followed Becker onto the street, then came to an abrupt halt. The bugger had disappeared!

  “Call the police!” I yelled to the ticket taker. “That man just tried to kill me.”

  The performance resumed after the police arrived. Each member of the balcony audience was questioned then led to seats on the main floor.

  Violet stayed with me.

  While the house lights were on, I caught sight of what Becker had dropped. A gun with a long metal tube on the barrel lay on the floor. I had seen such a tube before. It was called a silencer.

  After the police cordoned off the balcony, I introduced myself to the one who appeared to be in charge. He was intrigued to learn of my position as crime reporter.

  “I’m Sergeant Cooper. What happened?”

  I repeated the story, watching as a gloved officer picked up the gun with a pencil in the barrel and dropped it into a silk bag.

  “You say you know your attacker?”

  “Yes. He’s a phony spiritualist from Detroit. My associate and I exposed his fraud just last night. We were concerned he might try to exact some revenge, given his unsavoury background. Ten to one the gun and silencer come from Germany. Mr. Becker is still fighting the war.”

  “Last night? How did he get here so fast?”

  “Most likely the same way we did. By taking the eleven o’clock train from Detroit.”

  The sergeant nodded. “We’ll take his description from you and put out an all-points-bulletin. He’ll undoubtedly try to leave the city.”

  “My wife really doesn’t have anything to add. Would it be all right if she found another seat to watch the play?”

  “We’ll still need a brief statement from her. Otherwise, I can’t see any reason why not.”

  Ten minutes later I joined her.

  It was hard to sit and imagine nothing had happened, but we both enjoyed the performance. Highly rated starlet Barbara Stanwyck was beautiful when she came on stage during the second act, and quite believable as the criminal’s girlfriend. The governor bristled with authority. The legal action seemed contrived, but plausible—if only barely.

  When the play was over, a uniformed officer drove us back to the hotel in his black and white, then escorted us to our room.

  The first thing I did when we were inside was to lock and chain the door. The second was to knock on the door connecting to Holmes’s room.

  He appeared in a robe. “We have to talk,” I said.

  Holmes stretched out on his bed with his Calabash pipe clenched in his teeth while Violet and I pulled up chairs to be nearer him. He nodded and puffed in deep reflection as I told him what happened.

  “You’re certain it was Becker?”

  “Absolutely. I recognized him the moment I saw him. The officer who took my statement was astonished he’d be here in New York so soon after our skirmish in St. Clair Shores.

  “As am I. We could easily have bumped into him.”

  “And he could have tried to kill us on the train,” Violet said with a shiver.

  That gave me shivers, too. “Why else would he have been in such a hurry to get to New York if he didn’t know we were coming here?”

  “Excellent question. He may also have wanted to deal with Rose and accidentally picked up our trail in the process. My guess is she’s been followed ever since she crashed Becker’s séance.”

  “Then we obviously must become more circumspect in our move­ments,” I said.

  Holmes folded his hands across his chest. “I want to examine this further. Let’s assume someone has been following Rose, and he followed her here, and us as well, from Penn Station.”

  I nodded emphatic
ally. “Yes. I didn’t mention it to you before, but I did see someone who I took to be a cab driver at the desk, pointing at us as we entered the restaurant this afternoon.”

  Holmes’s eyes opened wide, and he coughed out a puff of smoke. “Of course. You say he looked like a cab driver? He could say he discovered another one of our bags in his trunk and asked for our room numbers to deliver it. Whatever the answer, we’ll have to warn Rose about what happened.”

  “Yes. She has to know what Herr Becker looks like. I’ll try to describe the man I took to be a cab driver, too.”

  “Absolutely. To continue our reconstruction, after we finished talking to Rose, asking about the theatre tickets. All Becker needed to do was find out where you would be sitting.”

  I suddenly felt I was back in London making my daily report. “The ruse to find out we were going to the Hudson Theatre tonight was quite clever, though I should have seen through it before our enemy caught up with us. I shudder to think how close we came to death. With the silencer, he could have murdered both of us with nary a sound and blithely walked away. People would just think we had fallen asleep.”

  Holmes sat up. “I think it would be best if we checked out of the hotel in the morning and immediately moved on to Boston. There’s no reason to remain in New York, anyway. I’m sure Sir Arthur will be delighted to see us a day earlier, too. I’ll find out the earliest train so we can be on it.”

  I stood. “Fine with us. Just let us know what time we have to get up.”

  Chapter 16

  Violet didn’t return to our room with me. She left Holmes’s room by the hall doorway. When more than twenty minutes passed and she hadn’t reappeared, I began to worry. Finally, I heard a knock.

  After a quick look through the fish-eye, I opened the door. Violet came in carrying a brown paper bag.

  “Where have you been? I’ve been worried about you.”