The Last Illusion

“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.”

“I suppose I could,” Harry admitted.

“And she could help you with the mind-reading tricks I do, and act as your assistant.”

“I could never teach her the signals in time.”

“I’m a fast learner,” I said, although I wasn’t sure this was true. “I could give it a try.”

“You do need an assistant, Harry,” Bess said. “You always say that it helps to have a pretty girl onstage for the audience to watch, so that they take their eyes off you.”

“She doesn’t have a costume, does she?” I could tell he was now fishing for excuses. He really didn’t want me but he was scared of crossing Bess. “She’d never fit into anything of yours.”

“That would be no problem, Mr. Houdini,” I said. “I have friends who know a good theatrical dressmaker. I’m sure he could make me something appropriate.”

He opened his mouth and tried to think of something else to say, then sighed.

“I know, but—someone who hasn’t been in the business? I’m the star performer, Bess. I don’t work with amateurs.”

“Fine. It was just a suggestion,” Bess said angrily. She turned away from him and faced the wall. “But I had a bad scare last night, Harry. The doc says I was lucky to come through the way I did. So I don’t know how long it will be before I can trust myself on that stage again and I kind of think that the audience will soon get tired of just watching you standing there with a bunch of handcuffs.” She turned back to him. “They like variety, Harry. They like things they can’t explain. And they like a pretty girl. You know that.”

Harry looked from her face to mine. Bess reached out and took his hand. “For my sake, Harry? Couldn’t you at least give it a try? Just a try?”

She was gazing up at him imploringly. For a long moment there was silence. Then he said gruffly, “Okay, babykins. I guess I could at least give her a try.”

Whether I liked it or not, it appeared I was about to become a magician’s assistant.





Fourteen


I was already having serious misgivings by the time I presented myself at the house on 102nd Street the next morning. The day had not started particularly well. I had already dragged Ryan out of bed and made him take me to his dressmaker friend who turned out to be a gorgeous young man with eyelashes any woman would kill for. He was introduced as Daniel, which I found amusing as he was about as different as possible from my future groom, and I knew exactly what that future groom would think of him.

“Darling, what am I supposed to do with her?” Daniel asked, looking at Ryan in despair after we had explained what I needed. “She has a waist the size of an elephant.”

“I do not,” I said angrily. “It’s just that I’ve never seen fit to wear a corset.”

“And it shows, darling, it shows. I suppose I could build you something with plenty of whalebones, but you’ll have to absolutely pour yourself into it.”

“It doesn’t have to be like the French Follies,” I said hastily. “I don’t intend to cancan or striptease. I just have to give an impression of glamour onstage and to distract the audience from what the illusionist is doing.”

Daniel shook his head. “But glamour demands an hourglass figure.”

“You are the master,” Ryan said. “If anyone can create her an outfit, you can.”

“Flatterer,” Daniel responded. He gave a dramatic sigh. “Oh, well, I suppose I’ll see what I can do.”

“And I do need it in a hurry,” I pointed out.

Daniel rolled his eyes. “You don’t need me, you need a miracle-working saint. You Irish know your saints, don’t you? Who is the patron of producing instant glamorous outfits?”

I looked at Ryan and we laughed, thus breaking the tension.

“Don’t worry, he fusses a lot but he’ll do it, and you’ll look fabulous,” Ryan assured me as we came away. “He really is a genius. I absolutely insist that he makes all the costumes for my productions.”

So I had what was probably going to be a horribly expensive costume being made for me with a grudging promise that it would be ready for a fitting in the morning. Now all I had to do was learn how to be an illusionists’ assistant in one lesson. How did I get myself into these things? I wondered.