The Last Illusion

“You can’t ask me that. I’m sworn to secrecy,” he said, smiling.

“Oh, Daniel, come on. I’m dying to know and I’m not likely to go blabbing it all over New York, am I?” I wrapped my arms around his neck. “Besides, I’m going to be your wife. I’ll be able to wheedle these things out of you in your sleep.”

“I sincerely hope not,” he said. “But if you really must know the whole thing was perfectly simple. It was all a question of levers. The supposed table on which the box rested was hollow. The girl lay flat in the box, and when the lid closed, she depressed a lever and the middle of the box sank down into what appeared to be a flat tabletop. She was also very skinny, of course, and able to suck in her stomach to an amazing degree, so the saw should appear to go almost all the way through the box, but just missed cutting her. Then the saw was removed, the bottom of the box sprang back into place, and out she stepped, unharmed.”

“Only this time the lever did not lower the girl where the saw wouldn’t reach her.”

“Exactly. Scarpelli claimed it must have jammed.”

I shuddered. “Horrible. Just horrible. And I’d take it for an accident too, except that I was at the theater again last night and the lock on Houdini’s trunk jammed. His wife was nearly suffocated inside. They had to get an ax and—”

“Hold on,” Daniel said, moving away from me. “You went to the theater last night? On your own?”

“Well, yes, but—”

“I thought you and I had planned to see Houdini together,” he said. “And now you slip away without me?”

“Daniel, don’t be sore,” I said. “It wasn’t like that at all. If you remember I was asked to look after Bess Houdini when she started having hysterics. I took her up to her room and stayed with her until she calmed down. We struck up a nice little friendship and she was so grateful that she invited me to come back and watch the show as her guest.” I looked up at him. “Did you want me to refuse a chance to see Houdini perform from the wings?”

“No, of course not,” he said quickly. “So how was it?”

“Fascinating, until something went wrong. They were doing their famous Metamorphosis trick, in which Harry is handcuffed and put into a bag, and locked into a trunk and two seconds later he appears, free from all the restraints, and when they open the trunk, Bess is inside the bag. At least that’s how it should have gone. But the trunk wouldn’t open. They had to send someone upstairs to find the key and in the meantime she ran out of air and they had to break it open with an ax.”

“Was she all right?” Daniel aked.

“She regained consciousness, but she was very upset. They were calling for a doctor when I left.”

“So two accidents at one theater within the space of a few days,” Daniel said thoughtfully. “A little too much coincidence, wouldn’t you say?”

“I would,” I agreed.

A warning frown appeared on Daniel’s face. “And I’ll wager you’re itching to find out who is behind it.”

“I must profess to being a little curious,” I said. “In fact I was wondering whether there could possibly be a gang involved. Do gangs charge performers protection money, do you think? Might the equipment going wrong be a warning to pay up? Is that something your men could look into?”

Daniel put his hands firmly on my shoulders. “Stay well away, Molly. Nobody’s asked you to poke your nose in and your interference wouldn’t be welcome. Especially if you suspect that a protection racket might be involved. Thank heavens you have a case on the books that will keep you occupied. I take it you had a satisfactory meeting with your client last night, before you went to the theater without me?”

“Yes, I did, thank you.” I got an odd feeling in the pit of my stomach as I said so. Now that I was actually engaged to Daniel it didn’t feel right to be lying to him—not even stretching the truth. Then I reasoned that as a policeman he would have plenty of things he’d have to keep from me. “And I’m sorry about the house you wanted to show me,” I added for good measure. “I will come and look at houses with you. It’s just that I love my little house. I’m very happy there.”

Daniel sighed. “We’ve been through this before. Don’t you see? It’s your house, not mine. I’d be the interloper, the intruder. It wouldn’t be the right place to start a new life together. I’d never feel quite at home.”

“Sure you would,” I said. “You’d bring in all your furniture. We’d make the downstairs back room into your den. We’d buy a new bed.” And I smiled up at him as I said this.

“Don’t try your feminine wiles with me, Molly Murphy,” he said, but he was smiling. “We’ll talk about this when we have more time. I am already late for work.”