Chapters (39)
- Cover
- Title
- TheLastIllusion
- Dedication
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-one
- Twenty-two
- Twenty-three
- Twenty-four
- Twenty-five
- Twenty-six
- Twenty-seven
- Twenty-eight
- Twenty-nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-one
- Thirty-two
- Thirty-three
- Thirty-four
- HISTORICAL NOTE
“If you’re also Irish you’ll know that we’re seldom coy and demure,” I said and he laughed.
“I like a girl with fire and spirit; in fact I like you, Molly. So how about going out for a little late supper with me after the show tonight?”
Now I really was in a dilemma. Obviously Daniel would be furious if I went out to supper with another man, and it might not be prudent to go out alone with someone who had been regarding me with something close to a lecherous leer—and might also work for a boss with criminal connections. On the other hand it would be a great opportunity to encourage my fire-eating companion to let an indiscretion or two slip from his lips.
“I’ll think about it,” I said, giving him a coy smile. And I decided to take another risk. “Tell me, do you know a man they call Risey?”
“Risey? Everyone knows him. He’s an institution around here. How did you hear the name?”
“Someone at the theater told me that he’d challenged Houdini once, several years ago, and he’d been a sore loser. I just remembered it when I realized it had taken place on Coney Island. He’s an important man around here, is that right?”
“Used to be. I’d say his glory days are over. He owns a theater farther down the Bowery.”
“So did you ever perform in his theater?”
He laughed. “Hardly. It’s a girlie show. I don’t dance the cancan.”
I laughed with him.
“Oh, I get it,” he said.
I froze, then he continued. “You’re looking for someone to hire you when Houdini goes back to Europe, aren’t you? You’re not the type who’d work for Risey. You’re too—nice. His girls do more than dance the cancan, if you get my meaning.”
“I only asked because I heard someone at the theater say that Risey was one to carry a grudge and the accident with the Houdinis’ trunk might be Risey’s way of getting even.”
Mike shrugged. “Risey’s way of getting even would be to send a couple of his guys to wait for you in a dark alley with brass knuckles on,” he said. “He ain’t known for his subtlety.”
He drained his glass and got up. “I gotta go. There would be hell to pay if I show up late. See you at the show tonight then, and afterward, who knows?”