Martin Greenberg - Sherlock Holmes In America

If anything, Harry’s enthusiasm had increased since the Great Detective’s passing. The previous year we had been thrown quite inadvertently into the investigation of the murder of a Fifth Avenue tycoon, under a set of circumstances, as Dr. Watson might have said, that I have recorded elsewhere. Our unexpected success in this matter left Harry with the distinct, if unwarranted, impression that he had been anointed as the heir apparent to Sherlock Holmes.

“Perhaps you should tell us a bit more about this unusual turn of events, Mr. Patrell,” said Bess. “I can’t say I’m entirely at ease with the idea of a Ten-in-One where the performers are apt to shoot one another.”

Patrell sighed and fingered one of the walnuts lined up on the table in front of him. “There isn’t much to tell,” he began. “Addison Tate joined the troupe in late July. He’s a fine performer, and he is willing to step in wherever he is needed, but I had my doubts about him. We’ve all heard rumors that he served a stretch in prison as a young man. They say he shot a man in a gambling hall.”

“He denies it,” I said. “I’ve played cards with the man on many occasions. He says a crooked dealer got shot and the police arrested everyone at the table. He insists he had no part in any wrongdoing.”

“I know what he says, Dash.” Patrell picked up a table knife and began tapping at the shell of a walnut. “And I believed him. Truly I did. But almost from the first he began pumping me for more money. He told me his mother needed an operation! Of all the cock-and-bull-”

“I am sorry to learn that his mother is unwell,” said Harry.

“Unwell? Houdini, his mother doesn’t need an operation! That’s the oldest line of patter in the book! I’m surprised he didn’t try to sell me a share in a gold mine.” Using his bandaged arm as a buttress, Patrell wedged the blade of his table knife into the seam of the walnut and pried it open.

“This still does not explain how you came to be shot,” Harry said.

Patrell picked out several pieces of walnut and began chewing. “The night before last, Tate brought every single member of the troupe to my office after the final show-the whole lot of them, even the bearded lady. He knew that I would be tallying the receipts for the week and preparing the pay packets. We’d had a fairly good draw, so there was a considerable pile of money sitting on my desk. Tate came to me with his hat in his hand and begged me to give him the entire week’s receipts. He made a good show of it, I’ll grant you. He said he had spoken with everyone and they had all agreed to put their salaries toward his mother’s operation.”

“The entire troupe was willing to do this?” I asked.

Patrell nodded. “I couldn’t believe it. He said he would pay them all back as soon as he was able. He must have been remarkably convincing.”

“It does seem extraordinary,” said Bess, “but, if you’ll forgive me, Mr. Patrell, what business is it of yours if your employees chose to give their wages to Mr. Tate?”

“You’re quite right about that, Mrs. Houdini, but that wasn’t all he was after. He wanted me to surrender the entire gate-every last dime I made for the week. It was quite impossible. I have overhead. It would have shut us down.”

“You refused?” Harry asked.

“Of course I refused! And Tate assured me that he bore no ill will. We shook hands and parted as friends-or so I believed. But he returned later, when the others had gone. Said he was going to give me one last chance to do the decent thing. When I again refused, he informed me that I no longer had a choice in the matter. ‘It pains me to do this,’ he said, ‘but I am a desperate man.’ That’s when he pulled out his gun.”

“The Navy Colt,” I said. “With the ivory grips.”

Harry raised his eyebrows. “How could you possibly know that, Dash?”

“Harry, Addison Tate does a ‘Wild West’ act. He’s the best trick shooter in all of New York. I’ve seen that pistol dozens of times. So have you. He treats that gun like precious jewel.”

Harry stroked his chin. “A regrettable lapse. I saw, but I did not observe.”

I turned back to Patrell. “I can’t believe that Addison Tate would do such a thing. I know the man.”

“I don’t think he intended to shoot me, Dash,” Patrell said, wincing slightly as his hand went to his bandaged shoulder. “I was so convinced of it, in fact, that when he reached for the money, I pushed him away and tried to scoop the money back into my strongbox. That’s the last thing I remember, apart from the sound of the gun. When I came to my senses, the room was full of people and my shoulder hurt like the devil, but Tate and the money were gone.”

“It must have been an accident,” I said. “He keeps a hair-trigger on that pistol.”

“Taking the money was no accident, Dash. And whether he meant to shoot me or not, it’s all one and the same in the eyes of the law. I’ll see him in Sing Sing before this is over. If only he can be found!”

“And so we come to the business at hand,” said Harry, spreading his palms on the table before him. “You wish to hire me.”

“Obviously,” said Patrell.

“Yes, just so. Obviously. You should have consulted me sooner. By this time, no doubt, the police have trodden on any number of vital clues, but perhaps I might uncover the truth by questioning-”

“I must say, Houdini, you don’t seem quite yourself today.” Patrell brushed the last of the walnut shells into his handkerchief. “Do I understand that you fancy yourself a detective now?”

“You’ve come to the right man. I shall locate Addison Tate for you, and I shall solve the mystery of his disappearance, or my name isn’t-”

“But there’s no mystery about it, Houdini! He simply fled after the gun went off. The police will find him soon enough.”

Harry’s face fell. “No mystery? Then why have you come to see me?”

“You’re still a magician, aren’t you?”

“I am ‘The King of Kards,’” said Harry, straightening his back. “The foremost pasteboard manipulator in the country, capable of making the cards-”

“-Capable of making the cards shimmer and dance upon your fingertips,” said Patrell, finishing Harry’s boast in the weary tone of one who had heard it countless times. “Well, Houdini, making the cards shimmer and dance is another service that Addison Tate had undertaken for Patrell’s Wonder Emporium, and rather capably, I will admit. I need someone to fill his slot. I’d do it myself, but with my arm in a sling I couldn’t possibly pull off a manipulation act.”

“Harry would be very pleased to accommodate you,” I said, assuming my de facto role as my brother’s manager, “provided that you are willing to meet his terms.”

“I’ll pay him three dollars a week,” said Patrell, “which is fifty cents more than I was paying Mr. Tate.”

“My professional charges are upon a fixed scale,” said Harry. “I do not vary them, save when I remit them altogether.”

“What?” asked Patrell.

“Three dollars a week will be fine,” I said quickly.

“Yes,” said Harry, tapping his nose meaningfully. “Perhaps it would be best if I joined the company as a mere performer. We must not advertise the real reason for my presence. It would inhibit my investigation.”

Patrell turned to me. “Dash?”

“Three dollars a week will be fine,” I repeated.

“It is a perfect deception,” Harry said, as he journeyed downtown to join Patrell’s Wonder Emporium that afternoon. “I shall pose as a simple card manipulator. No one will suspect that I am silently observing each and every detail.”

“Harry,” said Bess with a sigh. “You are a simple card manipulator. Mr. Patrell told us to leave Addison Tate to the police. There’s nothing to investigate.”