Read The Floating Lady Murder Online
Authors: Daniel Stashower
The Floating Lady Murder (31 page)
“I suppose it is a question of advertising my intentions in advance,” Harry murmured to himself. “I could post a notice or handbill to the effect that the Great Houdini intends to accept any and all challenges to escape from regulation handcuffs. Then people would be forewarned to provide their own restraints. That might resolve the difficulty.”
“Are there any other opportunities that might be suitable?” I asked Platt. “Anything at all?”
Platt reached across the desk for a folded sheet of paper. “I shouldn’t think so,” he said. “But don’t despair, Hardeen. If your brother truly is the most exceptional performer in New York, the other agencies are undoubtedly clamoring for his services.” He unfolded the paper and ran the pince-nez over the print.
“Perhaps there could be a trained locksmith on hand as I took the stage,” Harry was saying. “He could confirm that the handcuffs had not been tampered with or altered in any way. It would lend an official touch to the proceedings. The Houdini Handcuff Challenge. That would look well in print.” He glanced at me. “Don’t you agree, Dash?”
“Harry, perhaps we might confine our attention to the matter at hand. Mr. Platt is consulting his books to see if—”
“I’m afraid there’s nothing,” said Platt, tossing the folded sheet onto the desk. “Unless, of course, your remarkable brother happens to have a cast-iron stomach.”
“Pardon?”
“A cast-iron stomach. The Portain Circus has an opening in two weeks’ time. I’m looking to send a man with a cast-iron stomach.”
“I don’t quite follow you,” I said.
“A stone-eater,” Harry said impatiently. “An omnivore.” He made an exaggerated chewing motion. “Someone who will eat
whatever the audience throws at him.”
“Precisely,” said Platt. “I have the honor to represent Mr. Bradley Wareham, who earns a fine living in this manner. At present, however, he is indisposed.”
My hand went to my mid-section. “A stomach complaint, by any chance?”
“Not at all. A gouty foot, as it happens.” Platt snatched a handbill from amid the clutter on his desk. “Mr. Wareham is proving to be a difficult man to replace. Listen to this: ‘For the amusement of all present the Man with the Cast-Iron Stomach will ingest all manner of small objects presented to him by the audience, including rocks and gravel, potsherds, flints, bits of glass, and other savories. Upon conclusion of the display, this Gustatory Marvel will allow onlookers to strike his stomach to hear the rattling of the strange objects within.” Platt lowered his pince-nez and regarded us with a bemused expression. “I don’t suppose this is an act you might be willing to undertake.”
“Certainly not,” I said. “The talents of the Brothers Houdini lie in an entirely different sphere of—”
“Would I be able to take my wife?” Harry asked.
“Harry!” I cried. “What are you thinking? You’re not a—”
“The Portain Circus is a very reputable organization,” my brother said evenly. “If I could establish myself in the company, I might be able to win a spot more in keeping with the usual run of my talents. Moreover, I would be able to rescue Bess from her servitude in the chorus line at Ravelsen’s Review.”
“Your reasoning is flawless,” I said with considerable asperity, “except for the part which requires you to eat rocks and glass. How do you propose to overcome that little difficulty?”
Harry turned to Platt, who had been pulling contentedly at his clay pipe during this exchange.
“You say that I would have two weeks to prepare?” Harry asked.
Platt folded his hands. “Yes, Mr. Houdini. Two weeks. But
I warn you, this act is no place for an amateur. Do you really think you’re up to it?”
By way of an answer, Harry reached across Platt’s desk and plucked the clay pipe from his fingers.
“Harry!” I cried, as he placed the smoldering bowl into his mouth. “Don’t—”
But he had already bitten off the bowl of the pipe at its stem and was now happily chewing on the glowing contents.
“What did he say?” Platt asked, as Harry tried to speak through a mouthful of clay and burning embers.
“I can’t be certain,” I said, “but I believe it was ‘Hoonga-boonga.’ ”
DANIEL STASHOWER
IS A NOVELIST AND MAGICIAN. HIS WORKS
include:
Elephants in the Distance
,
The Beautiful Cigar Girl
, the Sherlock Holmes novel,
The Ectoplasmic Man
and the Edgar-Award-winning Sir Arthur Conan Doyle biography,
Teller of Tales
. He is also the co-editor of two Sherlock Holmes anthologies,
The Ghosts of Baker Street
and
Sherlock Holmes in America,
and the annotated collection
Arthur Conan Doyle: A Life in Letters.
THE DIME MUSEUM MURDERS
By Daniel Stashower
New York City in 1897 and young Harry Houdini is struggling to make it in the brutal entertainment business, when detectives call on him to attempt the most amazing feat of his fledgling career: solve the mystery of a toy tycoon murdered in his posh Fifth Avenue mansion. It’s a challenge which Harry—never at a loss for self-confidence—is more than willing to accept.
AVAILABLE NOW!
THE HOUDINI SPECTERBy Daniel Stashower
The Great Harry Houdini is still struggling to make a name for himself in turn-of-the-century New York. He sees an opportunity for glory in exposing the tricks of the medium Lucius Craig—if only he could work out how the medium managed to conjure a “spirit” while tied to a chair by Houdini himself, or how the apparition was able to stab an audience member to death and then disappear!
AVAILABLE JUNE 2012WWW.TITANBOOKS.COMTHE COMPLETE FU-MANCHU SERIES
Sax Rohmer
London, 1912—the era of Sherlock Holmes, Dracula, the Invisible Man, and Jack the Ripper. A time of shadows, secret societies, and dens filled with opium addicts. Into this world comes the most fantastic emissary of evil society has ever known. Sax Rohmer’s notorious villain returns in brand-new editions of the classic adventure novels.
The Mystery of Dr. Fu-Manchu
The Return of Dr. Fu-Manchu
COMING SOONThe Hand of Fu-Manchu
Daughter of Fu-Manchu
The Mask of Fu-Manchu
The Bride of Fu-Manchu
The Trail of Fu-Manchu
President Fu-Manchu
The Drums of Fu-Manchu
The Island of Fu-Manchu
The Shadow of Fu-Manchu
Re-enter Fu-Manchu
Emperor Fu-Manchu
The Wrath of Fu-Manchu and Other Stories
SHERLOCK HOLMES THE BREATH OF GOD
Guy Adams
A body is found crushed to death in the London snow. There are no footprints anywhere near it. It is almost as if the man was killed by the air itself. This is the first in a series of attacks that sees a handful of London’s most prominent occultists murdered. While pursuing the case, Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson find themselves traveling to Scotland to meet with the one person they have been told can help: Aleister Crowley.
As dark powers encircle them, Holmes’ rationalist beliefs begin to be questioned. The unbelievable and unholy are on their trail as they gather a group of the most accomplished occult minds in the country: Doctor John Silence, the so-called “Psychic Doctor”; supernatural investigator Thomas Carnacki; runic expert and demonologist, Julian Karswell...
But will they be enough? As the century draws to a close it seems London is ready to fall and the infernal abyss is growing wide enough to swallow us all.
PROFESSOR MORIARTY
THE HOUND OF THE D’URBERVILLES
Kim Newman
Imagine the twisted evil twins of Holmes and Watson and you have the dangerous duo of Professor James Moriarty— wily, snake-like, fiercely intelligent, terrifyingly unpredictable— and Colonel Sebastian ‘Basher’ Moran—violent, politically incorrect, debauched. Together they run London crime, owning police and criminals alike.
A one-stop shop for all things illegal, from murder to high-class heists, Moriarty and Moran have a stream of nefarious visitors to their Conduit Street rooms, from the Christian zealots of the American West, to the bloodthirsty Si-Fan and
Les Vampires
of Paris, as well as a certain Miss Irene Adler...
“A clever, funny mash-up of a whole range of literary sources...
It is extravagantly gruesome, gothic and grotesque...”
The Independent
“It’s witty, often hilarious stuff.”
Financial Times
“The notion of reinventing Moriarty and Moran as malign doppelgangers of Holmes and Watson may have been done before, but not with the firecracker exuberance that Newman
brings to it.”
Barry Forshaw