The Last Illusion - By Rhys Bowen Page 0,4

policeman, so naturally he rushed straight to the stage when he saw what had happened.”

She shuddered and wrapped the blanket more tightly around her. “It’s too terrible to think about, isn’t it? That could have been me. And my Harry risks his life every night onstage. Every single night.”

“I know they are only illusions,” she continued, “but they have to have that touch of danger or the public wouldn’t come. When we do the stunt we call the Metamorphosis, I’m always secretly afraid that I’ll suffocate in that trunk if I can’t get out one night.”

“It’s not a life I’d want for myself,” I said. “I spent a short time in the theater and I can’t say that I saw the attraction.”

“You were an actress?” She looked at me incredulously, noting I’m sure the healthy bones and the distinct lack of makeup and froufrou.

“A chorus girl.” I laughed. “Yes, I know I’m a little too big and healthy-looking for the average chorus girl, but I’m really a private investigator and I was on a case.”

“A lady detective? No—are there such things?”

“There are and I’m one of them,” I said. I reached into my purse. “Here, this is my card if you want proof.”

She examined it carefully, then looked up into my face as if she was still trying to make sense of the facts she had just read. “A lady detective,” she repeated. “Geez, that sounds exciting.”

“Sometimes a little too exciting,” I said. “My intended wants me to give it up when we marry.”

“Well, he would, wouldn’t he? I’m lucky that I’m in one of the few professions where I can work alongside my husband. And a good thing too. Too many flighty girls in the theater who would just love to get their claws into my poor Harry.”

“I’m sure he only has eyes for you,” I said diplomatically.

“I hope that’s true,” she said. “In spite of all his bluster and swagger, he’s still easily impressed. He’s a simple, small-town boy at heart. A real rags-to-riches story. His dad was a rabbi, you know. He was born in Hungary and when they came over here, the family was real poor—almost starving.”

I thought I’d better make my escape before she told me that story in detail. “I really should be getting back,” I said. “There’s a cab waiting for me, and my intended will wonder where I’ve got to.”

She reached out a dainty, white hand this time. “Thank you again. You’ve been very kind.”

“Take care of yourself,” I said.

“Oh, I will. It’s not me I worry about. It’s Harry. I worry about him every single day.”

I went out, closing the door quietly behind me. I was also about to marry someone in a profession fraught with danger. Would I be worrying about Daniel every single day?

Two

I came back to the stage to find Daniel, Signor Scarpelli, and the theater manager in conversation. No sign of the box containing Lily, nor of Houdini.

“Molly, you’re still here.” Daniel looked up in surprise. “I thought the cab came for you ages ago.”

“I took Mrs. Houdini to her dressing room and she was in such a distressed state that I couldn’t leave her until she calmed down,” I said.

“Good of you, miss,” the theater manager said. “It was a most distressing sight. Awful. I’ve never seen a thing like it happen in my theaters and I’ve had fire-eaters, lion tamers, you name it.”

Daniel cleared his throat, obviously wanting to get down to business. “Now, Mr. Scarpelli—is that your correct name?”

“My stage name,” the man said. “In real life I’m Alfred Rosen.”

“And the girl’s name?”

“Lily Kaufman.”

“A relative of yours?”

Scarpelli looked almost coy. “No, just a professional associate.”

“I see.” Daniel nodded. “I’ll need the name and address of her next of kin. They’ll have to be notified.”

“If you don’t mind, I’d rather do it myself,” Scarpelli said. “I feel responsible. It’s only right that I should go and see them. Lily thought the world of her parents. Sent money home to them every month regular.”

“Very well, but I’ll still need their names and address for our records.”

“I can come down to your police station and bring you all that in the morning, if you don’t mind,” Scarpelli said. “I don’t know the address off the top of my head and I’m all at sixes and sevens at the moment. My heart still hasn’t stopped thumping. I still can’t believe it, if you want to know the truth. I keep thinking it’s a horrible nightmare and I’ll wake

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