The Floating Lady Murder (26 page)

“I quite agree,” said Le Roy. “I’ve never had a finer in Paris or Brussels.”

Mother beamed happily. “You both needed a little something on your stomachs.”

“Dash?” Harry said, looking at me closely. “What is it? You’ve hardly said a word. You have the strangest look on your face.”

“Do I?” I grinned weakly. “Just the excitement, I guess. Harry, may I see you in your office for a moment?”

“My office? I have no—”

“We’ll return in a moment, gentlemen. Come along, Harry.”

I led him down the center hall to the water closet. “Dash— what—?”

“Harry,” I said, taking a seat on the edge of the tub, “you’ll have to go ahead to the theater without me.”

“What? You’re not coming with us? You can sleep later, Dash!”

“I’m not going to bed, Harry, but I can’t come to the theater right away, either.”

“But what will I tell Mr. Kellar and Mr. Le Roy?”

“Tell them anything you like. Tell them I’ve had a sudden attack of gout. I don’t want to face their questions just now.”

“Dash, what’s come over you? This is very strange behavior.”

“Please. I’ll join you at the Belasco in an hour or two. I just have to see a man about something. It shouldn’t take long.”

“See a man about—what are you going on about? What are you—” He stopped himself. “You’ve solved it,” he said quietly. “You know who killed Francesca Moore.”

“No. Not for certain.”

“Who is it? Come now, Dash. Tell me!”

“Harry, I really don’t know for certain. And if I’m wrong, I’ll end up looking very foolish. In either case, I’m going to be sure that Lieutenant Murray attends our little demonstration this evening.”

“Lieutenant Murray? You intend to unmask the murderer at the theater?” He nodded his approval. “Yes, that would be very dramatic.”

“I don’t intend to unmask anyone. But if I’m right, the murderer won’t be able to resist seeing the Floating Lady one last time.”

“But what about Bess? Will she be safe?”

I walked to the wash basin and splashed some water on my face. “Bess won’t be in any danger,” I said. “It’s you I’m worried about.”

Harry pressed me repeatedly for further details until I reminded him that the two most prominent magicians in the world were being kept waiting in the kitchen. Grudgingly, he returned to our guests and tendered my apologies, and after a moment the three of them set off for the Belasco, with Bess promising to join them later. I then spent the next half hour assuring my mother that I had not been felled by the sudden onset of leprosy, as Harry had led our visitors to believe, though I was required to eat another plate of pepper sausages to confirm that my health was uncompromised.

Leaving the flat a short time later, I went directly to one of my favorite haunts—the New York Public Library. The present building was still under construction at that time, but I knew that the book I wanted would be readily available at the temporary quarters on 40th Street. I presented myself at the front desk and headed straight for the theater arts section. I had the answer to my question within five minutes.

From the library I made my way further downtown to the offices of the
World
. Biggs was at his compositor’s desk as usual, and I counted myself lucky that there were no horses running that day.

“Hardeen?” he asked, as I tapped him on the shoulder. “Didn’t you get what you needed yesterday? I suppose you’ll be wanting—say! What’s the matter? You look terribly serious. And why are you dressed like a burglar?”

“Show me to the morgue, Biggs.”

“Come on, Dash, what’s—?”

“Do you want the story or not?”

He hopped down off his stool without another word. Moments later, he was putting up the lights in the dusty store room. “Which file do you need this time?” he asked.

I reached for a drawer.

“Ah!” he said. “ ‘K’ for Kellar?”

“No,” I answered. “Not exactly.”

“Dash, would you mind telling me what—”

“Oh, lord,” I said. “Good God in heaven.”

“What is it? Dash? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”

I looked up, my head spinning. “Are you interested in an exclusive, Biggs?”

“Of course I am. Let me get a—”

“Not now. Tonight. The Belasco Theater.”

“But what—?”

“I’ll tell you then. Oh, and one last thing...”

“Yes?”

“It’s an opening of sorts. Dress appropriately.”

“Hardeen—!”

I pushed past him and ran for the stairs.

14

IT WAS AN ODD, CURIOUSLY INTIMATE GATHERING IN THE FRONT
rows of the Belasco theater that evening. The house lights had been lowered to half and the lobby and common areas were dark, imparting a hushed and shadowy ambiance to the proceedings. The faces were familiar, but we observed the formal proprieties of first-nighters.

Members of the Kellar company, including Malcolm Valletin and Silent Felsden, occupied the front row of seats, chatting happily before taking their places backstage. They were joined by a handful of visitors from Mr. Le Roy’s troupe, chief among whom was a robust fellow who called himself Bosco.

“Not bad, Hardeen!” called Valletin, looking more like a cherub than ever with a brightly ornamented waistcoat under his dress coat. “The most exclusive show in New York!”

Behind him in the second row, Biggs and Frank Lyman sat side by side, both of them scribbling furiously in their note pads. Beside them sat Dudley McAdow with a scowl on his face, as though contemplating toilsome patent matters. Perhaps the greatest surprise was the appearance of Lieutenant Murray, who had arrived looking quite resplendent in a formal pigeon-breasted coat and black trousers. His opera pumps were shined to a high gloss.

“I must say, lieutenant,” I said, as I showed him to a seat on
the aisle, “this marks a change from your usual attire.”

“You needn’t look so surprised, Hardeen. My wife and I are quite fond of opera.” He lowered his voice. “Are you sure I need to be there, Hardeen? You know I’m not keen on these theatrics from you and your brother.”

“I think you will find it worth your time, lieutenant,” I said.

“You think so, do you?”

“I’m sorry to be mysterious about it, Le Roy and Kellar were determined to go ahead with their presentation this evening, and that left us with very little time to prepare. I’ve barely had time to tell Harry—to give Harry his lines.”

“Where is he, by the way?”

“Working behind the scenes.”

The lieutenant sighed and lowered himself into his seat. I turned as Perdita Wynn motioned me to an empty seat beside her.

“How is your cousin Chester, Mr. Hardeen?” she asked as I sat down. “Is he fully recovered from whatever emergency tore you away last night? I’ve been so terribly worried.”

“Well,” I said, “his difficulties were not as urgent as I had been led to believe. Harry was simply looking for a pretext to draw me away.”

“You don’t say! I should never have guessed. Not with all that energetic winking and nudging. He is a master of subtlety, your brother.”

“I—I—”

“Tell me, does he always appear just as you are about to make theater plans? You’ll make a lady feel positively unwanted.”

“You must accept my apologies,” I said, finding my voice. “Harry and I were called away on a rather strange errand last night. I look forward to sharing the details at a later time, assuming I have not lost your favor.”

She smiled beautifully. “We’ll see,” she said, squeezing my hand. “We’ll see.”

The house lights suddenly dimmed as Kellar and Le Roy walked onto the stage from opposite sides. The two men bowed
to one another then turned to the footlights. “Friends,” said Le Roy, “the effect that Mr. Kellar and I will attempt to present this evening truly represents a milestone in the magician’s craft.”

“We were all shocked by what occurred here on Saturday evening,” said Kellar, taking up the theme. “Tonight, with your indulgence, we shall attempt to complete the effect that was cut so tragically short that evening. We offer this as a small tribute to the memory of Miss Francesca Moore.” He nodded to the orchestra pit. “Gentlemen, if you would.”

There were only about half of the normal complement of musicians in the pit that evening, which had the effect of making the music that normally accompanied the Princess Karnac effect sound even more ominous than usual. Mr. Le Roy gestured to the wings and my sister-in-law Bess emerged wearing the costume of a Southern Belle, complete with a rather ungainly hoop skirt. I turned to Perdita. “About the role—” I whispered.

She squeezed my hand a second time. “Mr. Kellar told me,” she answered. “You were very gallant to commend me.”

From the stage, Kellar bowed deeply as Bess stood beside the levitation couch. “Watch carefully as my colleague places Mrs. Houdini into a hypnotic trance,” he said, as Le Roy waved his hands before Bess’s eyes. “Now, as her eyes grow heavy, we shall place her upon this divan.”

Le Roy moved to the front as Bess, her eyes closed, was laid out upon the sofa, leaning up on one elbow to face the audience. “I think that tonight we may safely dispense with the tale of the imperiled princess and the evil Pasha, ladies and gentlemen,” Le Roy said with a wink. “We ask only that you keep your eyes trained upon the stage, so that you don’t miss a single moment.”

Kellar moved around to the front of the divan and the two men stood side by side with their backs to the audience, momentarily shielding Bess from view. Moving as one, they stretched their arms forward as if to urge the sleeping Bess to lift from her perch.

For a moment, nothing happened. As the music swelled,
a strange ruffling motion became apparent. Then, incredibly, the reclining figure of my sister-in-law could be seen rising horizontally into the air, slowly coming into full view above the heads of Le Roy and Kellar. There was no covering, no smoke, no wires or mirrors. It was quite the most amazing effect I have ever beheld. Our small audience erupted into spontaneous applause.

“Cast your eyes heavenward, ladies and gentlemen,” Kellar intoned, “and watch as she rises...rises...rises...now she casts aside the high-flown theories of gravity and science like so much useless chaff. See how she floats, as though on a gentle zephyr, borne aloft by the hypnotic force of animal magnetism.”

Just then, we saw Bess tilt to one side and vanish into shadow as the stage lights went low, as if swallowed by darkness. Le Roy and Kellar turned to face the audience, peering into the space above our heads. A smudge pot flashed suddenly, sending a billowing column of white smoke into the air. The ghostly image of Bess, flickering amid the curls of smoke, could plainly be seen floating high above the crowd, lost in the grip of Kellar’s trance. For a moment she seemed to waver and undulate, then she vanished as the light dimmed.

Le Roy’s voice came from the stage. “Now she is almost beyond our earthly grasp, ascending like Icarus himself toward the sky. Surely the gods themselves must watch in wonder as she floats up toward the vault of heaven.”

A second geyser of flame burst forth. Once again the spectral image of Bess could be seen—more distant this time—nearing the high dome of the theater. “Can we believe our eyes?” came Kellar’s voice. “Can we trust our senses when they behold that which is plainly impossible? Still she rises... higher and higher...borne aloft by a power we mortals cannot begin to comprehend.”

I heard Lieutenant Murray twisting in his seat for a better view. “Not bad,” he allowed. “Not bad at all.”

“You haven’t seen the half of it yet,” I murmured.

From the stage, Kellar’s voice sank to a lower register. “Now the lovely princess has neared the end of her strange journey. Soaring to the heavens, lifted by unseen hands, she completes her wondrous ascent. Behold!” Kellar thrust his hands up toward the dome.

We had reached the moment of crisis. Everyone in the theater recalled all too vividly what had happened two nights earlier as Kellar spoke these words—and most of us had been present to witness it. I heard a collective intake of breath as the lights were trained upon the majestic theater dome. The sight that greeted us was a welcome one. Bess, still under the ‘hypnotic influence’ of Mr. Kellar’s spell, hovered gracefully in the empty space beneath the apex of the dome. It was a stunning sight, and the memory of it fills me with wonder even now.