I tried not to let my expression betray that I now knew the truth, and that Houdini wasn’t part of the plot. I also thought of those keys in my purse. Should I mention that I had in my possession proof as to whether the trunk really was Houdini’s or not? This presented a tricky problem. Daniel had already ordered me off the case, so he’d want me to hand over the keys. I wasn’t ready to do that yet.

“So were there any bloodstains in the trunk?” I asked.

“Young ladies don’t normally ask questions like that.” Daniel chuckled. “The trunk had been underwater and had collected floating debris, so it’s hard to tell at the moment. But our lab boys are working on it to see if they can extract any trace evidence that it belongs to Houdini.”

“So did the back come off easily and swing outward the way Bess had described?”

“The back had broken off, but yes, it appears that it was designed to swing outward.”

“So you can pretty much conclude that it was Houdini’s trunk.” I sighed. “You haven’t mentioned any of this to Bess yet, have you?”

“Absolutely not, and I don’t think you should either. No sense in upsetting her unnecessarily, although I’m afraid either option does not bode well for her, does it?”

“Poor Bess. She’ll be lost without him,” I said. “I’m planning to stay with her for a while.”

“And we have a man on his way to Atlantic City to interview the brother, you’ll be pleased to know,” Daniel said.

“You do?”

He nodded. “I thought over what you said and I decided you might be onto something. At the very least we have to check the brother out. The fact that he made such a hasty departure from New York is suspicious in itself. And even if he’s not involved personally, Houdini may have confided in him.”

“I’m glad you’re finally listening to me,” I said, not able to admit that going to Atlantic City was now a waste of time and money. But then was it? Harry Houdini’s brother had also been in Germany. Whatever Mr. Wilkie thought, it was just possible that he was the spy we were looking for.

Twenty-six

Bess was sitting up in bed sipping soup when I returned to her house. The windows were open and a refreshing breeze wafted through the room, sending the aroma of the food in my direction. My stomach reminded me that it was my dinnertime too and I had just turned down a delightful invitation to dine with friends. I wondered how Mama Houdini would feel about feeding the intruder. But I had more pressing things to do first.

I knelt on the floor and pulled out the suitcase.

“I think I may have found the key,” I said.

“Where? Where did you find it?”