in America. When Cecil met me, he could barely afford to pay me and buy food for himself … but together, we made something special, didn’t we?” A tear caught the light sparkling in her eye.
Lanners spoke up. “Go home and rest, everyone. We’ll learn no more tonight. Come back tomorrow and we can continue with refreshed eyes.”
“A man was killed in front of us. Can I rest, Watson?” Holmes crushed his straw hat between two fists.
* * * *
We returned to Baker Street very late. I agreed to stay the night, just like old times. As soon as we finished breakfast the next morning, the pageboy presented Thomasina Windham. She removed her bonnet with trembling hands.
“Please Mister Holmes, you must help me. I am at your mercy,” she said.
Sherlock walked over from the fireplace and greeted her. “Calm your nerves and we can discuss the matter.”
Before taking a seat, Thomasina stepped over to the window, eyeing the back garden and the long shadows cast by the low morning sun.
We reclined into chairs while our guest’s nerves settled with a glass of brandy. She told Holmes, “I wish to hire your services.”
I took the brandy bottle off the mantel, re-filled her glass, then returned it to its position beside a bowl of lilies and a vase of peacock feathers.
Holmes said, “How can we help you, madam?”
“The police suspect me.”
“I do not think so.”
“But they will, Mister Holmes, they will! It’s on account that I wish to sell the Sun Ching Foo show to Miles Cavendish, a rival magician. For years, Mister Cavendish has tried to buy Cecil’s tricks or to pay for a stake. Now, I want to offer him everything—the props, the staff, the future bookings.”
“And they will see this as profiting from Cecil’s death? A profit that led you to kill him in the first place?” Holmes said. “How much money do you stand to make?”
Tears broke her face. As she wiped away face powder, I saw wrinkles worried into her face with age. Her lashes matted together in anguish. She wanted to speak, but her breath caught in short gasps.
“The show is worth nothing to me. Cecil was heavily indebted. Sale of everything will be enough to pay off his debts, but little more. The Sun Ching Foo act has been a success, but Cecil financially ruined us. He piled together bills and spent on credit in the company of women that I do not care to speak of. I am ruined! Just look at the newspapers!”
She slapped down The Morning Mirror. Its broadside read “CONJURER’S WIFE KILLS HIM DURING FINAL PERFORMANCE.”
“They’ll use someone else’s name tomorrow,” I assured her. “Better yet, this paper will forget the story and The Evening Mirror will accuse someone else.”
“Do you think he planned this? Did he take his own life?” Holmes asked.
“I wish I knew, although I don’t think so. He is not the kind of person to contemplate such a death. He does not give into bursts of emotion. Not even when angry or upset.”
“Perhaps he was the opposite, and was quiet or withdrawn as of late?”
“He is in fine spirits lately. He is as talkative and even-keeled as ever. Oh, Mary help me, I can’t bring myself to say ‘he was’ anything. ‘He is’ to me—he can’t be gone. I cannot allow it.” She began to cry again. “But we are in such debt! If I do not accept that he is gone, the collectors will take the last crumb from my pantry.”
Holmes sighed. “Send Miles Cavendish inside.”
Her crying sputtered to a stop. “How do you know?”
“You looked outside, I assume a man is waiting. If it isn’t Miles Cavendish, then surely you are followed.”
She went to the window and opened it, then she gestured. Minutes later we were joined by a stranger. He had a tiny beard growing at the tip of his chin in the fashion of Disraeli, but it started directly under his lip and sprouted downward. His eyes were black and deep-set.
“Ah, the Amazing Cavendish!” Holmes remarked. “With the signature ‘Vanishing Lady’ act. A fellow conjurer, perhaps it was you who killed Sun Ching Foo?”
His face frowned. “I assure you, nothing can be further from the truth. Sun Ching Foo was no friend, but he was no enemy, either. Suggesting I killed Sun Ching Foo for his business is like me suggesting that you should kill Lestrade to snatch more cases to solve.”
Holmes chuckled. “Very well, who do you think killed him?”
“A spurned lover, angry creditors, or even himself? If he committed suicide, shouldn’t we search for a note?”
“If he committed suicide, then what is the mechanism? Thomasina, you say you don’t know how the trick worked, but how did he set it up?” Holmes asked.
She shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know. We all had tasks to do—I was preparing other things while he was working on the gun.”
Holmes asked, “Did he do anything to the guns after a performance?”
She nodded. “Why yes! See, the gun was not meant to fire. So every night, Cecil took apart the rifle to extract the bullet. He would shake the powder out and put that back in the container, too.”
“Usually, the gun did not fire? If it wasn’t supposed to, then how did Cecil simulate the sound of shooting?”
She shrugged. “It was all part of the magic of Sun Ching Foo.”
“Where was he before the show? What was he doing?”
Thomasina was quiet; instead, Cavendish spoke up. “Sun Ching Foo was in the company of a woman besides his wife.”
“How is it that you know this?” Holmes asked.
“His colourful social habits were known to all at the Bixby Club, of which we were both members.”
“It is imperative that I question this woman, Mister Cavendish. Give her name to the Yard, and they will bring her in for questioning.”
Holmes turned to Thomasina. “You ask for help, madam, and I shall offer it. But even without your plea, I would see this through to the end. A man has died in front of my eyes. The honor of my trade is at stake.”
Jealousy, anger, vengeance – I saw none of that on the wife’s face. She showed only silent despair. “Thank you, Mister Holmes.”
* * * *
We returned to the Metropolitan Police. Parliament’s clock tower looked at us over St. Stephen’s House. Lanners explained to Holmes that the woman was found, and they discussed what questions had been posed already and her answers. Once Holmes had his fill of the information, Lanners walked us to the same room where Alastair Reynolds had been questioned.
Inside the office, she waited. I will spare this woman her
