The Last Illusion

“Do you know what he wanted?”


She shrugged. “I was painting up in my studio. I heard the knocking, looked down, and spotted him, but by the time I had come down two flights of stairs, he was gone.”

“I wonder if he left a note,” I said. I opened the front door. The letter box was empty.

“No note,” I said. “Ah, well, if it’s important no doubt he’ll call back. If you see him again would you tell him that I’ve had to go to Atlantic City, but should be back tomorrow.”

“Atlantic City, how delightful,” she said with great enthusiasm. “A breath of sea air is what we all need in heat like this. Maybe Sid and I should come with you. I’ve a great desire to dip my toes into the Atlantic again, haven’t you?”

“I’m afraid I’m going there on business,” I said. “I’ll have no time to dip my toes into the Atlantic.”

“Nonsense. Anyone can make time for a lovely dip in the ocean. So refreshing,” she said. “And come to think of it, I have a cousin who spends her summers there. Why don’t we come and keep you company, then we can all stay with my cousin.”

“I think I’d better go alone,” I said. “I have to interview a suspect there. I’d rather be as unobtrusive as possible.”

“Interview a suspect. My, doesn’t that sound impressive.” Her eyes lit up. “If you wait a minute, I’ll write a letter of introduction to my cousin. At least you’ll have good company for dinner and a comfortable bed for the night.”

“Thank you, but I’ll probably just stay the night at a boarding house near the station,” I said.

“But Molly, it’s Atlantic City. You have to stay near the boardwalk and enjoy the ocean breezes and take a stroll down the pier,” she said. “And my cousin is utterly charming. One of the few members of my family who would still welcome me into her home, in fact.”

I was anxious to be off but trying not to offend Gus in the process. Lord knows, she and Sid had been good enough to me.

“You’re very kind, but no thank you. I make it my policy not to mix business with pleasure. And I may be out and about until late evening, which would be very rude to any hostess.”

“As you wish,” she said. “You do have our new telephone number, don’t you? I’m sure there is a line all the way from Atlantic City these days and you could put through a call to us if you find yourself in any kind of jam.”

“Thank you again. I must be off.”

“You never seem to have time for civilized chats these days. You are working yourself too hard,” she said.

“I know, but just think, soon I’ll be married and have all the time in the world for civilized chats,” I said.

“I can’t see that happening.” Gus laughed. “Besides, your lord and master will forbid you to mix with people like us, just you see.”

“I will never have a lord and master. I can tell you that right now. And I’ll mix with whom I please.” I pushed open my front door and went inside. It felt delightfully cool and I had visions of soaking in a cool tub, then eating lunch. But I had no time. I rushed around, packing essentials into an overnight bag, made myself a cheese sandwich and grabbed a couple of plums for the train journey, and I was out again, heading for the ferry across the Hudson to Exchange Place on the Jersey shore, the terminus where the trains left for Atlantic City—there being no way to bring a railway line across the mighty Hudson. On the way I wondered who the mystery man at my front door had been. Another client, maybe? That would be useful, as this case might not be continuing if my suspicions proved to be true. I’d probably not be paid, either.

I enjoyed the hint of cool breeze as the ferry chugged across the Hudson. Then as I entered the train station, I felt the excitement one always senses at a place where great journeys begin and end. I bought my ticket and was on my way to the platform when a man came up beside me.

“Here, miss. Let me help you with your bag,” he said, tipping his hat to me before he tried to take the bag from me.

“You’re most kind, but I don’t need any kind of help,” I said. I gave him a long look. He seemed respectable enough—young, clean shaven, straw boater, light-flannel trousers. I wondered if he made a habit of making advances to young women on railway stations.

“Where are you heading?” he asked.

“Atlantic City. And yourself?”

“As luck would have it, we’re going the same way,” he said, giving me a friendly smile. “Why don’t you let me carry your bag? You seem encumbered and as you notice, I have no luggage of my own.”

“I’m really just fine, thank you. I’m a strong, healthy woman and I don’t need any help.”