CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Houdini never indicated he sensed Christian’s presence in the cab, but the ghost was always right beside him. And when Houdini entered the Cotton Club, Christian got his first opportunity to see what all the fuss was about.           They were greeted as soon as they walked in the door and were escorted to a table in the center of the room. It was right on the dance floor and not far from the U-shaped stage. There were ashtrays on every table and people were making heavy use of them, creating a smoky haze that added to the club's atmosphere. Elaborate murals decorated the walls, showing slaves picking cotton on lush plantations. And while all the patrons inside the Cotton Club were white and rich, the wait staff and entertainment were Negroes who worked hard for every dime and were not allowed in the club as guests.           Houdini sat down and immediately ordered a “chicken cock.” Christian was taken aback by the odd request, until the waiter returned and placed a sealed metal can and a glass of water on the table. Houdini signaled the man to continue, and the waiter made a ceremony out of opening the can and lifting out a small bottle of whiskey. He poured two fingers of amber liquor into the glass. Houdini raised it to his lips, sipped, blinked, and chased it with water. He dismissed the waiter and took a moment to check his pocket watch. Durand was late. *           Bess Houdini sat in the living room, wishing she had asked her maid to light a fire in the grate, before she left for the evening.           She pulled her sweater closed, as a chill made her shiver. She sniffed the air around her and then suddenly sprang to her feet, looking around. “I know you’re here," she said aloud. "I can smell the scent of roses.           "My husband might not believe in you, but I have more of an open mind. What do you want with us?”           Evangeline concentrated on materializing. It didn’t take her long to appear in front of Houdini's wife. “Can you hear me?” the ghost asked.           Bess stood stunned, not reacting to her words.           Evangeline used her power of telekinesis to pull out the picture of Aubry Durand and placed it on a small table. “The man your husband is meeting tonight is not the real Aubry Durand.”           Bess remained silent, now staring at the picture.           “Why doesn’t she say something?” Gabriella cried. “She has to hear you. She has to!” Gabriella tried to pick up the picture but couldn't. "Please Evangeline. Place the picture in her hands. Make her look at it."           Evangeline levitated the photograph.           Bess trembled as she watched it float into her hands.           “Can’t you see?” the girl begged, “My father’s eyes are two different colors! You must tell your husband he's paying the wrong man.” She slumped to the floor, sobbing. “My mother and baby brother are starving to death. They need that money!”           Bess knelt down, staring at Gabriella. “What can I do?”           Evangeline looked at her young friend. “She may not be able to hear me, but she can hear you. Tell her to show the picture to Houdini. Tell her to do it now.”           Bess looked from one ghost to the other. Gabriella told her what to do, praying the woman could hear her.           Houdini's wife quickly got up and placed the photograph in her purse. She put on her coat and looked at Gabriella, who still sat on the floor. “I will go to my husband at once. I will show him this man’s eyes.”           Before Gabriella or Evangeline could respond, Bess was out the door. *           Downtown, Fast Eddy slipped behind the bar and poured Frankie Fingers a drink.           Frankie accepted the glass with a quick nod of thanks. “So? Did the Ellingham broad get everything she was supposed to get?”           “Yeah, boss, and she was drooling like a hungry dog when she got that extra three hundred bucks. She practically threw herself at Erskine after he gave her the loot.”           “And what did he do?”           “He looked like he couldn't wait to get out of there. When she asked him to stay for dinner, he said he had a ‘prior engagement’ all hoity-toity like and took off faster than the Red Baron.           Frankie Fingers laughed. “Too bad that gold-digger didn’t get her claws into him.”           “Yeah, boss? You think she’s a gold-digger?”           “Yeah. And I’ll bet Erskine hasn’t heard the last from her.” *           Uptown, Grace Ellingham was twirling the pearls she had found in the safe, around her fingers. Not two feet away, laying on top of her dresser, was an identical set of pearls spilling out of her jewelry box. George had given them to her for her birthday. They were from Tiffany. So were these. And they didn’t come cheap. “That two-timing son-of-a-bitch. I’ll find the little hussy he was going to give these to, and I’ll give her a piece of my mind. Then I’ll hock these and buy myself a nice little gift.”           She felt the fury building within her. She had just seen proof that her husband was cheating on her, and she wished he were still alive, so she could kill him. *           What was he going to do with Aubry Durand if the inventor refused his request? All he wanted from the man was another illusion. He already had Houdini’s Flaming Pendulum, but he couldn’t very well use it himself, without being found out. No. What he wanted was an even more innovative illusion. Something grand. And if Monsieur Durand refused, nobody would miss him. The public had already seen Durand's existence confirmed by Houdini and everyone believed he was on his way back to France.           The real Durand was not left with much of a choice. Of course, once he handed over another great illusion, he was free to die. Because anyone who knew as much as he did, was a liability as long as he was alive. *** Share | WANT TO LEARN MORE ABOUT EVANGELINE? Read Code Name: Evangeline now on Kindle Don't own a Kindle? Learn how to read Kindle books on your smart phone or PC *This is a beta version of this book and is subject to change without notice. If you have any comments, suggestions or feedback, email the author