She thought about it, then shook her head. “Not in the same way. Of course I’m always nervous when we’re away from home—especially on the Continent, you know. The people don’t speak our language and I don’t like the food, and those types over there give Harry the most impossible challenges he should never accept. But he won’t turn them down. He won’t be defeated, no matter what.” And she continued to toy with her skirt, plucking at it, smoothing it. I thought of her hysterics the other night and the way Houdini had babied her. So it was possible that these death threats were all in her overactive imagination. And it was also possible that if that proved to be the case, Houdini, who controlled the purse strings, wouldn’t want to pay me.

“Mrs. Houdini,” I said. “I have heard nothing yet that convinces me that anybody wants to kill your husband. Are you sure you’re not imagining things?”

“Harry’s jumpy too,” she said. “Oh, he’d deny it if you asked him, but something’s not right. He was looking forward to coming home so much, but then I’ve woken at night to see him pacing the room, or sitting at the table scribbling away. And when I ask him what he’s doing, he says working on a new illusion.”

“Well, there you are then. He’s concentrating hard on working it out in his own mind and he won’t be satisfied until he’s got it down on paper.”

“I suppose so,” she said, “but we were out walking once and he looked across the street and grabbed my arm and changed direction. Then he hailed a cab and off we went. And when I asked him what it was about he said he’d seen someone he’d rather not have to talk to.”

This enforced my suspicion about a gang connection. And something of this nature was out of my league.

But at that moment she leaned forward and grasped my hands. “He means everything in the world to me, Miss Murphy. I don’t know what I’d do without him. Please say you’ll help us.”

My sensible side wanted to say no, but a voice in my head was shouting, “This is Houdini, you dolt. Crack this case and you’ll be famous.” Who knows, maybe in solving this, I’d be able to solve the Scarpelli incident as well. I could legitimately be at the theater, snooping around, without having to tell Daniel. All in all an exciting challenge for a detective. Better than divorce cases, anyway. And certainly better than no cases at all.

“All right, Mrs. Houdini,” I said. “I’ll take the assignment. I should tell you that I charge a hundred dollars for a successfully concluded case.”