Who Done Houdini by Raymond John Read Free Book Online Page A

blame it on you—”
    O’Reilly stepped forward to take a closer look. “Wiggins? What are you doing here?”
    â€œMy job. We’re trying to find out what really happened to Houdini before he died.”
    â€œThe coroner says he died of an appendicitis attack.”
    â€œWe think he may have been poisoned. There’s only one way to know for sure.”
    â€œFine, but you know very well this isn’t the way to do it. You have to leave.”
    â€œWe don’t have any choice. Someone put out a gag order.”
    O’Reilly motioned toward Mr. Holmes. “Who’s this?”
    â€œDr. Trevor Claybrook, Timothy’s uncle,” Holmes said.
    â€œWhat do you intend to do with the file? I can’t let you walk away with it.”
    Without waiting for permission, Holmes opened the folder. “Give me five minutes. No one will ever realize it’s been disturbed.”
    O’Reilly looked hesitant, then holstered his weapon. “Five minutes. If any of this ever gets out, I’ll be fired. If I do,” he gestured toward his holster, “I’ll come looking for you.”
    â€œI promise you, it won’t get out,” I said.
    I found a place to sit on a sturdy pile of unfiled medical records. A short time later, Mr. Holmes set the file back into the cabinet. “Very interesting,” he said. “There is much to consider here.”
    Â 
    O’Reilly led us to the elevators. I thanked him and he left us. I expected to get a report whilst we waited, but Mr. Holmes refused to speak until we were back in the room.
    â€œAre you going to tell me now, or are you going to make me wait some more?”
    â€œNo need to get feisty, Wiggins. I merely wanted time to digest all the new information. Would you pour me some water, please?”
    Grumbling under my breath, I filled the tumbler from his table and handed it to him.
    â€œThank you. To begin with, most of what Dr. Kennedy told us and what appeared in your paper is correct. Mr. Houdini’s appendix was inflamed. Whether it had burst naturally or was affected by the blow to the abdomen are other matters entirely.”
    My ill temper disappeared immediately. “Why do you say that?”
    â€œThere’s a photograph of the appendix in Dr. Kennedy’s file. It appears to be normal to me.”
    â€œNot to denigrate your innumerable skills, but you’re not a physician.”
    â€œQuite so. That’s why I took the picture out of the file. I’ll have Sir Arthur take a look at it for me.”
    â€œYou’re going to mail the photo to him? We won’t hear from him for quite a while.”
    â€œHe’s waiting for us in Boston. I wired him the first night I was aboard ship. He isn’t too happy about it, but he agrees it was in his best interests to make the trip. In the meantime, we can pay a visit to Dr. Cohn in the morning. He has an office not far from here.”

 
    Chapter 7
    W ith all the excitement of the day, I barely slept. The indefatigable Sherlock Holmes snored heavily the entire night. When he woke, he had the nerve to say I looked peaked.
    His ill humor had left him. Now I had it.
    Breakfast of bacon, toast, scrambled eggs, and orange juice arrived at seven o’clock. Mr. Holmes wolfed it down without offering any to me. An hour later, the nurse arrived and told us we were free to leave. All that was left to do was to stop at the teller’s window to pay for the ambulance and hospital stay.
    I grimaced when I saw the bill. Fifteen dollars was an outrageous tariff, at least ten times what a hotel room would cost.
    Mr. Holmes must have noticed my expression when I wrote out the check.
    â€œWhy such a long face? You can be sure I’ll reimburse you from my cache of gold sovereigns as soon as I can get to a bank.”
    â€œIf you’re going to a bank, you better change your clothes first. You look like you’ve slept under a