Free The Floating Lady Murder by Daniel Stashower Page A

of the guard?”
    “No, Mr. Hardeen. I trust the members of my company, but I find it best not to place temptation in their way. Danbury keeps me informed if there is anyone poking about where they shouldn’t be.”
    “Have there been any unusual comings and goings?”
    “None.”
    “So whoever tampered with the cage must have done so during the course of a normal rehearsal.”
    “Yes,” said Kellar.
    “But that means—”
    “Yes, Mr. Houdini. Whoever rigged that lock is a member of my own company.”
    I stubbed out my Havana in a crystal ashtray. “You don’t sound entirely surprised, Mr. Kellar.”
    He rubbed his forehead wearily. “I’m afraid I’ve been expecting something of the sort, now that we’re so close to debuting theFloating Lady. I’ve spent a fortune developing that illusion, and you can’t imagine what Le Roy would do to get his hands on it. I must hold the copyright to the Floating Lady at all—”
    Harry looked up from the locking mechanism. “I thought I understood that Mr. Maskelyne held the copyright to the Floating Lady. Was I misinformed?”
    Kellar’s eyes flashed with sudden anger. “Sir,” he said with considerable heat, “Mr. Maskelyne is a fine magician, a clever inventor and an excellent showman. The Egyptian Hall in London is an ornament to the conjuror’s craft and we would do well to emulate its success here in America. But for all his many talents, Mr. Maskelyne cannot claim to own the patent on inspiration. He has devised a very engaging little illusion called Asrah, and it is a commendable effort, so far as it goes. But it is not the Floating Lady that I have in mind. It is not the Floating Lady that I have dreamed of since boyhood. And by God it is not the Floating Lady that I plan to present in New York City in four days’ time!”
    Kellar’s voice had risen steadily during these remarks, and by the time he concluded his face had turned an alarming shade of red. “You must forgive my husband,” said Mrs. Kellar in a tone of mild reproach, as though he had dropped a dinner roll. “It is one of the few subjects upon which he has absolutely no sense of humor.”
    “Yes, of course,” said Kellar, struggling to master his temper, “I—”
    “Do you mean to say,” Harry broke in, brushing aside the social proprieties, “that you have been working on a Floating Lady illusion since the beginning of your career?”
    “I have. It was a lifelong dream of my mentor, the Wizard of Kalliffa.” His eyes drifted toward a small portrait in a gilt frame. It showed a steely-eyed older man with mutton chop whiskers, a dimpled chin and a sweep of dark hair across a heavily-lined forehead. “He always said that this trick would bring fame and fortune to the man who perfected it. I believe that even he hadno real conception of what the idea would be worth. I estimate that the man who introduces the Floating Lady to America stands to make well over one million dollars.”
    “One million!”
    “It’s true, Mr. Hardeen. My bookings have fallen off a touch during recent years, but a headline grabber such as this one would put me back in the money. Moreover, I could send out four or five touring companies, each one carrying an authorized version of the effect. Make no mistake, one of us is going to make a fortune—me or Servais Le Roy.” He leaned back and drew on his cigar. “Fame and fortune does not matter to me so much as it once did,” he continued, “but I confess that I will not consider my career complete until I have mastered this one last illusion. I feel that I owe it to my old mentor.”
    “He was really an Englishman, wasn’t he? The Wizard of Kalliffa?”
    “A Scot, Mr. Houdini. Duncan McGregor. I knew him as Mac. He and Mrs. McGregor were like second parents to me, and I have tried to honor their memory by becoming the kind of magician he wanted me to be.”
    Harry studied the face in the portrait. “How did a Scot named Duncan McGregor come to be