Who Done Houdini by Raymond John Page A

top of the pile.
    I had fewer things to pack and finished less than half an hour later. She was still jamming things into her suitcase on the way to the train station, and barely got the bag to close.
    Holmes, of course, knew nothing of this, and being a bachelor, couldn’t even guess. “And a very good evening to you, my dear,” he said. “Let me apologize for such short notice. Though at first I admit I wasn’t overjoyed at the prospect of having another individual join us, I quickly realized you are every bit as observant as your husband and will be an excellent addition to our party. My only concern is that sleeping arrangements may be a bit awkward.”
    â€œI’ll pay for our separate rooms,” I said. “We can use adjoining quarters for our conferences.”
    â€œDon’t be ridiculous, Wiggins. I will be more than happy to pay for Violet’s expenses. Especially since they are all my fault, anyway.”
    A porter came by and lifted our bags into the car. Holmes gave the man two gold dollars without batting an eye.
    The porter’s eyes lit up at the unexpected windfall. “Thank you very much, sir.”
    â€œYou’re very welcome.” Turning to us, he said, “I booked first-class accommodations. After a few hours’ sleep we can enjoy a leisurely breakfast and be in New York by early evening.”
    â€œWhom are we going to meet?” I asked.
    â€œOne of Houdini’s employees. Her name is Rose Mackenberg. I called her long distance yesterday morning. She investigated Albert Becker’s operation for Houdini, among many others. I’m sure she’ll have much to tell us.”
    We joined Holmes in the dining car at 8:30. The clattering of the wheels and the jostling kept me awake for a while, but I drifted.
    Six hours later, we awoke at Holmes’s knock and doused our hands and faces before heading for the dining car.
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    The breakfast of shirred eggs , toast, American fries, and orange juice went down easily. After we finished, Violet insisted we play three-handed whist, also known as Widow Whist. I always assumed the husband of the inventor of the game had died leaving only three people to play the four hands. Whether I played my own hand or took the widow, I inevitably came up with my usual assortment of sixes and sevens and an occasional facecard I always seem to get dealt. Good enough to win my three or four necessary tricks on rare occasion, but invariably the suits were too evenly distributed to bid nullo and attempt to take no tricks at all. Violet on the other hand played like a demon, making four nullos in a row to win the game for the third time.
    â€œI see we’re in the presence of a card shark, Wiggins,” Holmes said. He pointed an accusing finger at Violet. “I know when I’ve been swizzled, young lady. Either you give me back my three dollars or I’ll have the conductor throw you off the train at the next station.”
    Violet feigned a hurt look. “Is he always such a poor loser, Timothy?”
    â€œUsually worse. He’s an even more terrible winner. You should see how he gloats when he humiliates me at chess.” With that, I took a dollar out of my wallet and handed it to her. “You earned this fair and square, my dear. Use it to buy a bonnet when we get to our destination.”
    Stomping away in a faux huff, Holmes moved back two seats to read. I wanted to nap, but Violet insisted I play gin rummy with her.
    Finally, I said, “I’ve had enough of cards. I’ll see if the porter can find us a backgammon board.”
    â€œFine. I’ll beat your pants off.”
    To my amazement, this porter came back with a board and checkers. At last I was in my element.
    On Violet’s third roll, Holmes looked over his seat at our game. “Build your three point, my dear.”
    I would happily have beat him over his head with the board. “No kibitzing allowed. Read your