The lieutenant waved his hand impatiently. “I can see that. Have you found anything I don’t know?”
“It’s a very peculiar case,” the doctor said. “The killer was fortunate to have inflicted such a wound in total darkness. The thrust was not deep, but it nicked the carotid.” He looked at me. “Young man, are you certain that you didn’t hear the injured man cry out?”
“He may have, but there was considerable confusion in the room. The sound might have been mistaken for surprise over the appearance of the ghostly figure.”
Dr. Peterson looked down at the body. “The wound must have been extremely painful. I’m quite certain he would have made a sound of some kind. Perhaps Dr. Wells might have been able to intervene.”
“Or Dr. Wells may have been the one to inflict the wound in the first place,” Lieutenant Murray said.
“Unlikely,” answered Peterson. “A trained physician would have done a better job of it.”
“Unless he couldn’t see in the dark,” Lieutenant Murray said.
“Yes,” said Peterson. “I suppose that might account for it. Still, I would have expected—”
“Ah ha!” shouted my brother from the floor.
“What have you got there, Houdini?” asked Lieutenant Murray.
Harry pointed to a table leg. “A very distinct scratch mark where Mrs. Clairmont and Dr. Wells were sitting.”
Lieutenant Murray bent down and studied the mark. “Looks like an old scuff mark to me, Houdini.” He stepped across the room to the desk and returned with a letter opener. Bending down, he made a similar scratch above the one Harry had indicated. “See? The mark I made is brighter. The wood hasn’t had a chance to age yet.”
Harry studied the twin marks for a moment. “You may be right,” he acknowledged. “Even so, my theory is still sound.”
Lieutenant Murray straightened up. “Your theory?”
“Indeed.” Harry crawled out from beneath the table, his face alight with excitement. “Might I ask you to step into the hallway for a moment, Lieutenant?”
“The hallway? Why?”
Harry put a finger to his lips. “All will be revealed,” he said in a low voice. “Please follow me. I guarantee that you will find this most illuminating.”
The expression on Lieutenant Murray’s face told me that there would be grave consequences if that guarantee was not met. Nevertheless, the lieutenant had a quick word with Dr. Peterson and then followed Harry into the hallway outside the séance room.
“What’s this about, Houdini?” he asked.
“Only this,” said Harry with proud smile. “I have solved the case!”
“Pardon?”
“I have solved the case! I am ready to unmask the villain! He will rue the day that he crossed paths with the Great Houdini!”
Lieutenant Murray turned to me. “Hardeen, do you know anything about this?”
I shook my head. “Harry, how can you be so sure? The body isn’t even cold yet. Don’t you think you’re being a bit—”
“The solution was evident from the first,” Harry continued, ignoring my attempt at moderation. “Though it would not have revealed itself to the more conventional approach of the New York City police. No, this was a problem that required talents and abilities unique to the world’s foremost self-liberator. When one is presented with a puzzle which appears to have no solution, one must turn to a master of puzzlement!”
“Harry,” I said, noting Lieutenant Murray’s rising color, “maybe you should get to the—”
“Eight people are locked within a room,” he continued, stroking his chin. “One of them is murdered under cover of darkness. Yet it appears improbable that any of the remaining seven people could have accomplished the crime. How is it possible?”
“That’s what my men and I are endeavoring to find out, Houdini,” Lieutenant Murray said. “If you have anything to tell me, you’d best get to it. Otherwise, you’re wasting my time.”
“All in good time, dear sir! In order for you to appreciate the exquisite simplicity of my solution, I must acquaint you with the elegant chain of reasoning that produced it.”
I watched as the lieutenant’s jaw muscles tightened. “Harry,” I said, “perhaps it might be best if we skipped over the elegant chain of reasoning.”
“I would not dream of it,” he said with a happy smile. “I could not ask the lieutenant to arrest the guilty party on my word alone. He must have the evidence!” He tugged on the points of his bow tie. “Now, then, as I approached the problem, I naturally asked myself if a killer could have entered from outside of the chamber while the eight of us sat in darkness. Perhaps the murderer slipped in through the windows or possibly through the locked doors.” He gestured at the door to the study behind us. “After all, the door was secured by a simple Orkam shaft-clasp lock, with a mere three pins inside. One need not be the world’s foremost self-liberator to pick this lock. An eight-year-old boy with a willow twig could undoubtedly have forced his way into the room.”
“Flaherty,” said the lieutenant, motioning to a sergeant standing nearby. “Go and round up any eight-year-old boys you happen to see carrying willow twigs.”
“Right away, sir.”
“I immediately discarded this possibility,” Harry continued, oblivious to the lieutenant’s sarcasm. “If the door had been opened, we should have seen the illumination from the hallway. The killer could not have entered through the door. Could he have entered through the windows? This seemed the most promising theory at first, but on closer examination, a grave problem emerged.”
“The windows were locked from the inside,” Lieutenant Murray said. “Houdini, as much as I enjoy listening to you state the obvious, I have a murder investigation to run.”
“The window locks are no great obstacle, Lieutenant. A piece of filament or wire could easily be looped around the locking lever. If this wire were to run outside the window along a seam or hinge, the windows could easily be unlocked from the outside.”
Harry had the lieutenant’s attention now. “You’re saying that the killer opened the windows by pulling a string?”
“I’m saying he could have.” Harry stepped back as a pair of morgue attendants arrived carrying a stretcher. “Of course, he could also have had an accomplice inside who unlocked the windows and then locked them again afterwards. However, I do not believe this to have been the case.”
“We’d have heard the windows opening,” I said, “and we’d have seen light from the street when the killer passed through the curtains.”
“Not to mention the fact that there’s no ledge of any sort outside the windows,” said Lieutenant Murray. “It’s a good thirty-foot drop to the street.”
“Exactly,” said Harry. “That is why I have ruled out the possibility that the killer came from outside the room.”
“Then we’re back where we started,” I said. “It was one of us. One of the seven people sitting at the table. Assuming we can rule out the Brothers Houdini, that leaves Dr. Wells, Kenneth Clairmont, Brunson, Mrs. Clairmont, and Lucius Craig himself. You’re saying that one of them is the killer?”
Harry thrust his index finger into the air. “Not necessarily.”
“That’s enough cat and mouse, Houdini,” Lieutenant Murray said. “If the killer didn’t come from outside and it wasn’t one of the people sitting around the table, then what other choice is there? Hardeen’s glowing apparition, perhaps? I prefer a flesh and blood killer myself.”
Harry turned away from us. “Sergeant Flaherty, may I ask you to gather up some of the newspapers from the rack beside Mr. Clairmont’s desk?”
“Newspapers?” the sergeant asked, glancing at Lieutenant Murray.
The lieutenant held up his hand. “Hold on, Houdini. I won’t have you giving orders to my men.”
“You have asked me to name the killer. I intend to do better than that. I am going to produce him for you. All I require is a bundle of newspapers.”
Lieutenant Murray hesitated
, then nodded to the sergeant, who went off to do as Harry asked.
“I must ask that you do exactly as I say, but please keep your voices down until I give the signal. What you are about to see may strike you as peculiar, but the reasons for my actions will be apparent soon enough.” Harry led us back into the séance room as he said this, his voice dropping to a low whisper as he approached the octagonal table. “Earlier I pointed out this scratch to you, Lieutenant,” he continued, crouching next to the thick pedestal base. “It is worth noting that this table is quite new and was constructed to the exacting standards of Mr. Lucius Craig. It is an unusual piece of furniture, is it not? The octagonal shape is quite unconventional. So, too, is the exceedingly heavy base. Instead of four separate legs holding the table up, we have one extremely thick column of wood at the center. If Mr. Craig were here, he would undoubtedly tell us that the construction of the table forms a focus for the energies of the sitters. I believe there is an additional function, not generally known to outsiders. Ah, Sergeant Flaherty! Please spread the newspapers onto this tray. Excellent. Now, if you would be so good as to bring that pitcher of water from the sideboard. Thank you so much. Have you a match, Sergeant?”
“Wait a minute, Houdini,” said Lieutenant Murray. “A match? What do you think you’re doing?”
“All will become clear in just one moment, Lieutenant. Come along, Sergeant Flaherty. I believe we are ready to proceed. Please set fire to the newspapers, if you would be so kind.”
The sergeant looked to Lieutenant Murray, who fixed my brother with a dubious expression. “You’re sure this is necessary, Houdini?”
“You shall not be disappointed, Lieutenant.”
Murray shrugged and nodded at the sergeant to proceed. In a moment, the newspapers were burning merrily. “Good,” said Harry. “Now if we could direct some of the smoke toward the table, I believe the results will speak for themselves.”
The sergeant used a discarded section of newspaper to fan smoke in the direction of the table.
“Now there is one more thing I must ask of you, Sergeant,” said Harry. “If you would join me in raising a cry of ‘Fire,’ I should be eternally grateful.”
The sergeant looked up from fanning the smoke. “You want me to yell ‘Fire’?”
“Yes, only let us direct our voices toward the base of the table.”
“Harry,” I began, “this isn’t going to—”
“Not now, Dash. We have a murderer to apprehend.”
“But—Harry—”
“On the count of three, Sergeant. Now then: one, two, three—”
“Fire!” shouted the sergeant and Harry together.
“Thank you, Sergeant. I will trouble you once again.”
“Fire!” they shouted again.
Harry rubbed his hands together with satisfaction. “Thank you so much. And now, Lieutenant, I believe it will be possible to introduce you to the murderer of Mr. Edgar Grange.” Harry folded his arms and gazed expectantly at the séance table.
“Harry,” I began again, “there is no—”
“Not now, Dash! I am waiting for the murderer to reveal himself.” Harry beamed happily at the table. “Any moment now!”
Lieutenant Murray turned to me. “Hardeen? Can you explain what your brother is trying to achieve?”
“I believe I can,” I said, “though I hope I’m wrong.” I looked at Harry, who was still gazing expectantly at the séance table, as though waiting for it to burst into song. “Harry, I’m afraid you may have miscalculated.”
He shot a quick glance in my direction, his happy confidence beginning to fray a bit at the edges. “Just a moment longer,” he said. “I’m sure of it.”
“What does he think is going to happen?” Lieutenant Murray asked.
“My brother has concluded that the murderer of Edgar Grange is hidden in a secret compartment within the base of the table,” I explained. “Harry believes that the concealed killer will smell the smoke, hear the cries of fire, and conclude that the house is burning. At that point—”
The lieutenant finished the thought for me. “At that point he will emerge from his place of concealment and fly into the waiting arms of Sergeant Flaherty.” He stroked his chin. “I believe I read that story as well. Was it Dr. Thorndyke?”
“Holmes,” I said. “ ‘The Norwood Builder.’”
“Funny, I’d have sworn it was Thorndyke.” He turned to the sergeant. “Flaherty, I think we can safely extinguish the flames now.”
“Wait, Lieutenant,” cried Harry. “There is still a chance that—”
“Put out the flames, Flaherty.”
Harry gave a theatrical sigh as the sergeant poured water over the embers of the newspapers. “Perhaps he didn’t smell the smoke,” he said, still clinging to a shred of hope.
The lieutenant walked over to the séance table and took hold of the edge. With a sudden effort, he heaved the heavy table onto its side. “Hello?” he called, bending over the upended pedestal. “Anyone in there?” He rapped on the solid wood with his knuckles. “Come on out. Harry Houdini is waiting to apprehend you.”
Harry appeared crestfallen. “Perhaps I was mistaken in my assessment of the situation,” he admitted.
“Perhaps so,” said Lieutenant Murray. He turned back to Dr. Peterson. “You have anything else for me, Doc?”
Peterson snapped his black bag shut. “Not until I finish up downtown. Are you done here?”
“Not yet. I’ll let you know.”
“Lieutenant,” said Harry, “may I suggest that we—”
“No,” said Murray shortly. “You and your brother are going back downstairs to join the others. I’ll be through questioning in a couple of hours. I suggest you just make yourselves comfortable in the meantime.”
“But we can be of assistance! We have unique talents and abilities that—”
The lieutenant signalled to a uniformed officer. “Marsden, take these gentlemen back downstairs, would you?”
Harry made to offer another plea, but I restrained him as the officer escorted us to the exit.
“Oh, Hardeen?” the lieutenant called after us.
I paused in the doorway. “Yes?”
“If you see this thing again, this—what did you call it?”
“A glowing apparition.”
“Right. If you see it again, tell him I need to ask him some questions.”
The sound of the lieutenant’s laughter followed us all the way down the main stairs.
7
THE SANGUINARY SPIRIT
“THE GALL OF THAT MAN!” CRIED HARRY, HELPING HIMSELF TO A portion of scrambled eggs at breakfast the next morning. “After all we’ve done for him in the past! He’d still be trying to solve the murder of Branford Wintour if not for us! He’d still be trying to crack the Case of the Deadly Damsel!”
“The case of the deadly damsel?” I asked, stirring my black tea.
“Francesca Moore,” said Harry, his cheeks reddening slightly. “I have recorded the business in my note-books under that title.”
“Have you? I must say, Harry, that’s quite vivid.”
“Well, I have a certain theatrical flair, as you may know.”
“Hadn’t noticed.”
Harry was referring to an unfortunate chain of events some months earlier, when an assistant to the great magician Harry Kellar had been murdered under seemingly inexplicable circumstances during a performance of the Floating Lady effect. Harry and I realized that Lieutenant Murray’s investigation had taken a wrong turn, and through a combination of persistence and happenstance we had been able to uncover the identity of the killer.
“The lieutenant is just jealous,” Harry said, chewing thoughtfully on a piece of sausage. “He is afraid that the Great Houdini will show him up once again.”
“Patrick Murray has one of the finest records in the history of the New York City Police Department,” I said. “Of the many hundreds of cases in which he has been involved, only two have required the
assistance of the Brothers Houdini. And there is nothing to say that he wouldn’t have solved those two on his own eventually.”
Harry snorted. “I don’t know why you place such confidence in that man, Dash.”
It was nearly two o’clock in the morning when Lieutenant Murray dismissed our small band of suspects from the Clairmont house and we were instructed to return at noon for a further round of questioning. It was clear from his tone that the lieutenant would have preferred to conduct those interrogations at the precinct house, but Mrs. Clairmont’s standing in society would not permit him to be so high-handed with her guests. Harry and I had attempted to confer with him over the findings, but he had wished no further aid from the two of us.
I had returned to my room at Mrs. Arthur’s boarding house and fallen exhausted into my bed, but sleep would not come. I could not put the events of the evening out of my mind. Each time I closed my eyes, a vision of that strange, glowing spectre rose up behind my lids, brandishing its gleaming blade. What was it? How had it come to appear in the room? Could it possibly have been responsible for the death of Edgar Grange? I turned these problems over in my mind until the first brightening of dawn appeared at my window.
“The problem does not seem so very difficult to me,” Bess was saying, as she poured out another cup of tea for Harry.
“No?” I asked.
She set the pot on a clay trivet. “Well, I don’t mean to say I’ve worked out every detail, but I think that Harry must have been on the right track last night.”
My brother beamed at her. “Thank you, my dear.”
“How do you mean?” I asked. “You think the murderer really was hidden in the base of the table?”
“No, of course not. But it stands to reason, however, that the murderer was hidden somewhere in the room when the séance began. If what you’ve told me is true, no one could have entered the room after the lights were lowered. You’d have seen the light from outside.”
“That’s true,” Harry agreed. “I said as much to Lieutenant Murray.”
“If the murderer didn’t come from outside the room,” Bess continued, “he must have been inside the room the whole time. Naturally, that suggests that the killer was one of the other seven people sitting at the table.”
Harry Houdini Mysteries Page 11