didn’t expect it to take so long, and then I started to panic and next thing I knew I was lying there.”
“So why didn’t you say something before?”
“Because I felt like a fool, that’s why,” she said. “And because I knew it had nothing to do with the other things that happened.”
“Well, I suppose at least it’s one piece of the puzzle that’s now in place,” I said.
“Are you going to tell Captain Sullivan?”
“I’ll have to,” I said. “But I have so many other things to do this morning that I probably won’t get a chance to speak to him for a while.”
“How long will you be gone?” She looked like a small child, worrying about its mother.
“I’ll try to be back as quickly as possible,” I said. “The house is well guarded. You have nothing to fear.”
“But I do fear,” she said. “I’m terrified. I want my husband back.”
“I hope to have some news for you when I return,” I said.
It did cross my mind that Mr. Wilkie had told me to go to Houdini’s house and stay there. Instead I would be gadding around New York. But then if nobody knew my connection to Wilkie apart from a man supposedly guarding me and two men back in Washington, I would be safe, wouldn’t I?
So I made sure that Bess was comfortable, gave Mrs. Weiss instructions not to open the door to anybody except the police until I returned, and I set off, lugging my heavy bag of scrapbooks. As I stepped outside I found that the day, even at this early hour, was already a sultry one, as humid as walking though a hothouse. Not a day for scouring the length and breadth of New York City—from Dr. Leopold Weiss to the magazine offices. Even as I was making my list, the wheels in my brain started turning over something I had just said to Bess. Scarpelli—who had so conveniently vanished. Was he the one? Had he killed his assistant because she found out he was a German spy and was about to report him? Maybe she had even found out that his mission was to kill Harry Houdini and had stood in his way. I should have done more to check into Signor Scarpelli, rather than leaving it to the police. Then I reminded myself that he had supposedly disappeared from the face of the earth after the accident onstage. Every policeman in New York had been looking for him, which made it highly unlikely that he had been able to gain access to the theater on the night that Houdini was kidnapped. But I remembered his obvious dislike of Houdini, not to mention his jealousy and the fact that he had also toured Germany recently. I decided it might just be worth checking out where he had stayed while he was in New York. So I should visit the theater while I was downtown. I would be able to find out his address in New York from their records.
I found Dr. Leopold Weiss’s residence in the East Eighties and knocked at the door. It was opened by Dr. Weiss himself. I saw the resemblance to Houdini instantly, although he wore a neatly trimmed little beard and round spectacles, and looked altogether older and more somber.
“Miss—uh. Good day. Can I help you, miss?” He seemed surprised to see me, although a patient turning up at a doctor’s door couldn’t have been that unusual. I thought I saw a flash of recognition cross his face, but we hadn’t ever met before, unless he’d been in the audience and seen me onstage with his brother.
“I’m Molly Murphy, a friend of your brother’s wife,” I said. “I’m helping to try and find out what has happened to Houdini.”
“A terrible business,” he said. “Hard for us all to endure. How is my mother holding up? How is Bess?”
“Bess is taking it very hard,” I said. “And so is your mother, although she is made of sterner stuff and doesn’t show it.”
“I must try to pay them a call later today, if I can,” he said. “I am so sorry they have to go through this. Are they well protected?”
“Yes, there is a policeman standing guard outside at all times.”
“That’s good to know,” he said. “I hope one policeman is enough against these fiends.”
“Your brother hasn’t tried to contact you, has he?” I asked. “We’re still not sure if he’s dead or alive.”