Chapter 02 Truths

The Private Journal of Adelaide Stratton
Entry 02

After such a thrilling beginning, I must admit, the following few weeks have been quiet and dull. True, I'm now upstairs with the rest of the Metropolitan police force; and more surprisingly I'm missing Mr. Houdini and Doctor Doyle. Who would have suspected I would actually miss the bickering and sniping of those two!

Harry is at the theater working on a new show. After his near-drowning in the pit at the nunnery I don't understand why he still does that water-cell escape night after night (and twice on Sunday, of course). He sends me numerous notes with offers of tickets to see the show, best seats in the house he claims, but I just can't do it. I was nearly witness to his actual death and I'm not ready to sit in a theater where it could potentially happen again.

Arthur is also busy speaking about his book and bolstering opinion for the war in Africa. He sent a copy to me at the station. When Chief Inspector Merring saw it, he glared from the book to me and I thought for sure he would send me back downstairs.

Sometimes she wondered why she bothered with Harry Houdini. Asking if she was a virgin, really. Adelaide knew he was asking such an outrageous question simply to get a reaction from her, unfortunately for him she wasn't the one reacting.

Doyle stood agape, shocked by the question, while Harry cockily waited for an answer. Why not, she thought, It will take him down a peg or two at least. His reaction was everything she could hope for and his squirming when she asked her question was even better. What really interested her, though, was he was only giving part of an answer.

What is he hiding, she wondered. She knew Harry didn't trust others easily, saying only enough to get out of a conversation. It was the price of fame certainly, but there was something else as well. It can't be his mother, he loves her too much. He never mentions his father or siblings … Something to keep in mind for our next truth trade, she smiled to herself

She followed "Martin" as he chased after the dog and listened with half an ear to Harry and Arthur talking behind her.

"So what do you think? Married? Promiscuous?" Harry asked, slightly awed.

"Maybe she was just trying to shut you up?" Doyle responded.

"That's a pretty big lie," Houdini pointed out.

Adelaide smiled as she heard Doyle's response, "Shutting you up is a pretty big task."

Finding the skeleton however ended any further thoughts of torturing Harry Houdini.

She wasn't surprised Doyle took "Martin" at his word that he was buried at the spot they were standing on. Arthur took off his jacket and immediately started digging where the boy indicated. She was pleased to see that after a brief hesitation, Harry also shed his coat and started digging. A month ago he would have stood by and mocked the Doctor, Adelaide realized. Now he's willing to, literally, dig in and help.

Once the ring was discovered, Arthur pushed on with his claim of reincarnation, but Adelaide could see Harry was disturbed by this new information. The momentary solidarity in the task of digging gave way as each man retreated back to opposite sides of the paranormal fence.

H&DH&DH&DH&D

Adelaide sat in stunned silence as Harry all but ran out of the subway car. Arthur couldn't do anything to stop him either as he still had the boy asleep against him. "Mr. Houdini? Harry, wait," she called after him. "Doctor?" she turned to the man next to her.

Arthur merely followed Harry with his eyes as he left the car and started up the stairs from the subway stop to the London street above.

"I'm not sure, Constable," he said.

"I didn't mean to hurt him," she said quietly.

"It was his game," he reminded her. "He knew what he was doing."

"Still, I didn't expect … "

She watched Arthur watch the boy sleep as the subway started moving again.

"The sad thing is, Constable, Harry was probably telling you the truth. His father really did nothing to him. I suspect his father simply left Harry to his own devices."

"You're saying he neglected his own son," Adelaide accused.

"Or he died when Harry was quite young," Doyle replied. "It would explain quite a lot," he finished in a mumble more to himself than to her.

"Oh?" she asked. "Like?"

When Doyle didn't answer immediately, Adelaide glanced back at him and saw he was lost in thought.

Arthur shifted gently in his seat and tucked the boy more tightly against his side as the car swayed around a bend in the track.

"You mentioned Harry telling you his success gave him the chance to dote on his mother," Arthur said and Adelaide nodded. "That tells me he had a rough upbringing. No one really around to help them so Harry took it on himself to do whatever he could. He takes chances, with money, with his life, because he doesn't think there is any other way to live."

Adelaide pondered Doyle's analysis as the subway train came to the next stop. As Doyle woke the boy and they made their way out of the subway tunnel and up to the surface near Scotland Yard, Adelaide noticed how Doyle interacted with "Martin" and came to a realization of her own.

"Doctor, how old is your son?" she asked.

Doyle stopped at the top of the stairs and looked back at her with a tight smile. "My son is eight," he said simply. "My daughter is eleven."

Adelaide noticed his demeanor and regretted her question. "I'm sorry, Doctor, I didn't mean to pry."

She watched as Doyle shook off the momentary melancholy as he replied, "No apology is necessary, Constable." He stepped out into the light of the setting sun and continued, "We should probably get our young charge here settled for the night, don't you agree?"

Adelaide merely nodded and led the way toward the Metropolitan Police station.

Harry wasn't sure where he was once he left the subway and took a moment to orient himself, not only to where exactly he was in the city, but also his mental frame of mind. The game wasn't supposed to go this way, he thought to himself as he started walking in the direction of the Metropole Hotel. Beautiful, intelligent, challenging as hell; he'd used those words to describe the constable to Doyle. While he focused on the challenge, he should have remembered the intelligent part.

His idea was to get Adelaide to talk to him, even be a little impressed by him, so he could ask her to dinner, and thus win his latest bet with Doyle. Instead she repeatedly turned the tables on him, refusing to act the way he expected. Now this about his father.

Why had the question hurt so much, Harry wondered while another part of his mind pondered how she knew it would wound him so deeply. He hadn't thought of his father much in years; once he died, Harry did what he could for his mother and family resorting to theft if necessary. As he became more and more successful, Houdini lavished his mother in gifts and the good life, doing what he could to erase the bad memories of past hardships.

A profound unhappiness she'd called it, a great wound. Harry had been angry at his father certainly. He didn't understand as a child how to bend in the face of bigotry or hate, so even now he acted as a bulwark against it, refusing to bend, and being bloodied more than once as a result. He knew the pain well and tried to spare others as a result.

He'd never considered it a wound …

H&DH&DH&DH&D

It was not a pleasant morning for anyone the next day in Chief Merring's office. Harry could only stand by for so long during the dressing down Constable Stratton and Sergeant Gudgett received as a result of the boy's escape the previous night. Doyle kept sneaking looks in Harry's direction as if he thought Houdini would do or say something they would all regret.

And he's probably not wrong, Harry considered as he heard Adelaide take responsibility for "Martin" disappearing. Harry, unable to stay silent any longer spoke up to take the blame on himself for showing "Martin" how to slip handcuffs but Merring didn't care. The only thing that mattered was his key suspect in a very high profile shooting, was on the loose.

Harry was impressed as Adelaide described her methods for uncovering "Martin's" actual name of Peter Bennett, he couldn't help but smile and finally, unable to contain himself any longer spoke, "I'd say that's some damn fine police work; wouldn't you Chief?"

He looks like a hooked fish, Harry thought to himself as he stared at Merring. He really has no idea just how good Adelaide is at this. His loss. Harry couldn't help sharing a satisfied grin with Doyle as Merring floundered. He may not have appreciated the way the constable found his weak spots yesterday, but he was learning to respect Adelaide as a police officer.

H&DH&DH&DH&D

Once out of the station and in a handsome, Harry noticed something was off with his companions. Adelaide stared out one window and Arthur seemed lost in thought. He tried to lighten the mood by haranguing the handsome driver, but even that didn't seem to help as Doyle tugged at his jacket to get him to sit down.

Finally, after another awkward silence Doyle asked, "Did you ever play truant when you were a girl?"

Harry listened to the conversation but couldn't understand why Doyle's daughter missing one day of school was such an issue. He was much better off in spite of a minimal formal education and said so. Neither Doyle nor Adelaide were impressed by his argument.

"What does you wife say," Harry asked innocently.

"My wife has tuberculosis, she's been unresponsive for six months," Doyle answered, finally, avoiding eye contact with the other occupants of the cab.

Harry was stunned. Well that explains everything, Harry thought. He's in mourning even though his wife isn't dead yet. No wonder he's so easily taken in by every bloodsucker for miles.

He remembered the conversation in his hotel room after solving the case at the laundry. He remembered how desperate Doyle sounded when stating science would prove the existence of spirits as easily as finding new elements and explaining radioactivity. The frustration he felt beating against the brick wall of Doyle's faith, melted to a familiar anger. These charlatans were no longer just hurting the faceless masses, they were hurting his friend. He heard Adelaide's heart-felt apology at the news, but found he could say nothing. For Harry, actions were always better than words.

The rest of the journey to the Bennett home was made in silence. While Doyle was again lost in thought, Adelaide stared out the opposite window at the people they passed on the street. Harry sat in his corner of the handsome and plotted new ways to debunk every mystic he found. Even after the cab arrived, Harry was still seething and walked into the Bennett's town-house with renewed purpose.

H&DH&DH&DH&D

He didn't say anything to Doyle or Stratton on where he was going. After leaving the Bennett's home, he only said he had something to do and left the others waiting at the curb for a handsome. Arthur would only fret and Adelaide was a police officer, she'd be obligated to stop me, he justified to himself.

Harry headed for his hotel room, listing the items he needed in his head. Entering the sitting room, he found his mother sitting at her writing desk answering letters.

"Dear, Ehrie, there you are," she said as he came over to kiss her cheek.

Harry glanced at the papers on the desk and asked, "What's all of this?"

Cecilia waved a hand at the letters and replied, "This and that, many people sent letters after my birthday and I wish to answer them. There this, too," she finished showing Harry one of the letters in particular.

Harry took the letter, no invitation, he realized and read it aloud, "Mr and Mrs Robards request the pleasure of your attendance to our next country house party."

Harry looked up from the letter. "Ma, have you ever been to a country party? Do you know what goes on at those parties?" Harry was all too aware of what the social elite got up to over the long weekends out of the city. It was one of the reasons he stopped attending them; every mother for miles would try to latch an unattached daughter to his side.

"I haven't the slightest idea, Ehrie. But, it would be interesting to see one, I think. It would be a wonderful time."

Harry glanced back through the invitation. "It's at the end of the month, I can take you up there if you want me to." He'd suffer the three days of matchmaking if it made his mother happy.

Cecilia kissed Harry's cheek and told him, "No, no, you have your shows, theaters full of people to make happy. I will be fine."

Harry put the invitation back on the top of the pile of correspondence and squeezed his mother's hand. As he walked into the library, he called back to her, "Whatever makes you happy, Ma." and disappeared into the library.

He gathered the supplies he would need to break into Lydia Belworth's very impressive safe, kissed his mother again, and left.

H&DH&DH&DH&D

"I distinctly remember talking to you about burglary," Adelaide said with a sigh.

Yep, good thing I didn't tell her about this before I went to Mrs. Belworth's office, Harry thought to himself.

Adelaide's disappointment was short-lived however once Harry explained what he'd found. Lydia Belworth, nee Moreau, nee Durst had a lot of secrets. One of them was she, Lydia, knew who the blonde woman was and thanks to the journal, Peter knew who she was as well.

It only took forty-five minutes researching in the basement to find a Margery Maguire with an address at a rooming house in Aldgate. "Yes, here it is," Adelaide exclaimed. "She's not that far from Beatrice Upton," she continued, "Peter could be there already!" She put the registry books back on the shelf and headed back toward the stairs.

"Hold on a minute," Harry said taking her arm. "If he is there, we need to have more of a plan than knocking on the front door. If he isn't there, we need to set a trap to catch him before he hurts Margery. Like you said, Margery's room is only a few blocks from Beatrice Upton, we know Mrs. Upton has a gun. Peter could easily break in and steal it, just like he stole Martin's journal."

He watched Adelaide's face at the realization of Peter having another gun. "How are we going to stop bullets," she asked worriedly.

Harry already had the beginnings of a plan in his head, all he needed to do was convince Adelaide it was the best option they had. "I have an idea, but I need to stop at the theater and get a few things," he told her.

"The theater," she said. "Mr. Houdini, just what is this idea of yours?"

Harry smiled as he led her back up the stairs and explained what he wanted to do. "Don't worry. I've done something like this before. It's fool-proof," he reassured her. "You get Arthur and I'll meet you at Margery's room in thirty minutes."

Adelaide didn't look very convinced, but she nodded and left the station and headed for Doyle's town-house.

Arthur is going to hate this, Harry thought to himself.

Doyle sat stunned as he listened to the plan Harry and Adelaide had concocted to find Peter and save Margery Maguire.

"Harry says this is will work, says it's a fool-proof plan," Adelaide explained standing in Doyle's office. "He's meeting us at Margery's rooming house; he had to stop at the theater to pick up a few things he would need."

Doyle stood from behind the desk with a frown and started to gather items into a black medical bag sitting on a table in the corner. Lint, liniment, bandages, forceps, what else? He threw various items into the bag and said to Adelaide, "Well he certainly is a fool," he stated angrily.

"Harry seems very sure he can do this," she defended standing out of the way as Doyle reached behind her for more supplies.

"Of course he thinks that," he told her, shaking his head. "Houdini doesn't stop to think through most of what he does. It's all a challenge to him. See if he can defy death one more time." Doyle could hear the worry in his voice and was relieved to see his concern was now mirrored in Adelaide's eyes as well.

H&DH&DH&DH&D

"You are completely insane," he told the man in front of him as he walked into the neighboring room from Margery Maguire, Adelaide followed behind him. Harry was standing in front of him sorting through various items of clothing.

"What?" Harry replied smiling as he shrugged into a tightly quilted vest and snapped it closed. "Doc, you really need to come see my new show if this is a surprise for you."

Doyle set the medical bag down and reached out to Harry, grabbed his shoulders forcing the other man to stop what he was doing and said, "You idiot, this isn't a stage production. You intend to let that boy shoot you, in the back, possibly several times."

Harry shrugged out of Doyle's grasp, pulled on a second padded vest and cinched it tightly across his middle over the first. He glanced at the dress and wig he had yet to put on. "Do you really think the green works for me?" Harry held the dress up turning back to Doyle.

Doyle just shook his head and looked to Adelaide for support. "I can't believe you agreed to this," he said to her again.

Adelaide stared back at him and tried to explain, "He does seem rather sure this will work, Doctor."

Doyle threw his hands in the air. Idiots, the pair of them, he thought to himself.

Stepping toward Adelaide, Doyle decided to appeal to her common sense, As Houdini clearly has none, he mentally finished. "The success of this plan is completely based on some quilting and the assumption the boy will aim at his back and not his head," Doyle explained. "Even with the padding, a bullet could still penetrate and severely injure or even kill him."

Harry tried to interrupt, but Doyle was on a roll.

He aimed a glare in Harry's direction and continued, "Don't, Harry, you know I'm right. At the very least you are going to suffer deep tissue bruising." He gave Houdini a significant look. "It's going to hurt."

Harry put down the dress and nodded. "Yeah, I know it will, Doc," he said slowly. "But it's not like we have a whole lot of other options. Do you want to make Margery stand there and get shot? I, at least, know what I'm getting into here."

Adelaide sucked in her breath with a hiss. So, he didn't tell her everything it seems, Doyle thought. Maybe I can still stop this.

"Why didn't you say anything about this," Adelaide demanded to Houdini. "You said this was safe, that you'd done this before. As a member of the police force, I cannot allow a member of the general public risk such danger." She reached out for the dress, "We'll think of something else," she said.

Harry jerked the dress back and started to put it on. "I never said it was safe. And for the record I said I've done something like this before," Harry said defensively. "I understand you are both worried about me, and I'm grateful for your concern," he said as he struggled to get the buttons of the bodice to close over the layers of padding. "Trust me, this will work." He put the wig on and moved toward the door. "It's the only chance we have of stopping Peter."

H&DH&DH&DH&D

Arthur heard footsteps inching up to the half open door of Margery's room. He was out the neighboring door as the last shot echoed down the hall and he tried not to hear the pain-filled groans or the clatter of dishes as Harry fell.

He grabbed the hand holding the gun and said in stunned surprise, "Mrs. Belworth we were not expecting you."

As Adelaide come out of the room across the hall with the real Margery Maguire, Doyle glanced through the open door past Mrs Belworth to see Harry on the floor. Doyle didn't realize he'd stopped breathing until Harry groaned again and started to move, then he finally inhaled.

He traded a relieved look with the constable and watched as Houdini stiffly stood and limped toward him. Three bullets, Doyle cataloged. Left shoulder, lower back on the right and a graze off his left side.

"Thanks a lot. You could have stopped her before she shot me," Harry stated sarcastically as he limped through the door and stood behind Doyle in the hall.

"Well done, Lydia, you just set your movement back a hundred years," Harry continued, popping the buttons on the bodice. Doyle noted the stiff movement and added ice to his mental list of things he would need to take care of the injuries he knew were hiding under Harry's padded vests.

As Lydia tried to explain to Adelaide why she killed Martin and almost killed Houdini, Doyle heard the quiet wincing behind him and turned to help Harry. Harry waved him off and finally got out of the bodice and vests. Arthur noted he was hunched over and leaning heavily on the wall beside him.

Doyle was torn. He knew they had to find Peter, however he also knew Houdini needed medical attention. As Adelaide led Lydia out of the rooming house, Doyle turned to Harry.

"Come in here," Arthur motioned to the neighboring room. "Let me have a look at you."

"We really don't have time for this," Harry said inching away from the door.

"We can make the time, Mr. Houdini," Adelaide pointed out coming back into the hall and frowning at Harry. "Lydia is on her way to the station and Margery has gone along as a witness," she continued. "I think we can spare a few minutes to make sure your fool-proof plan didn't kill you." Adelaide's concern was painted across her face in a series of worry lines.

Doyle watched as the emotions played across Harry's face and he saw the moment the younger man accepted they weren't going to look for Peter until Harry had been checked over by Doyle.

As Doyle led Harry back into the neighboring room, Adelaide said, "I'll just be here," pointing to Margery's room. "If you need anything."

"Right, then," Doyle said closing the door. He pointed to a neat bedstead in one corner of the room and reached for the medical bag still on the table. "Lie down over there and let's see how bad it is."

Harry heaved a sigh and tried one more time, "I'm fine."

"You are not fine and we both know it." Doyle nodded toward the next room. "She knows it too. Now, shirt off."

Harry removed the shirt and turned to lie down on the bed. Doyle couldn't hide his appalled shock. "My god, Harry," he whispered as he saw the bruises on the other man's back and side were already a deep blue-black.

"Some bedside manner, you've got, Doc," Harry chided, groaning slightly as Doyle probed each of the large welts on his back.

"You were very lucky, Harry. This one," Doyle lightly brushed the bruise near Harry's hip, "is over your kidney. If the bullet had actually penetrated the padding, you would be dead right now."

Harry made a noncommittal grunt and closed his eyes.

Doyle set to work doing what he could in the limited amount of time available. He knew he should call the constable to get a wagon to take Harry to hospital; he also knew Harry would balk at the idea and never trust him again. Instead he gently checked each of the welts for broken skin, lathered them liberally with liniment and covered each in lint padding to protect the bruised skin as much as possible. He couldn't do much for the swelling, and only hoped the welts wouldn't increase much more in size.

Houdini was stoically silent throughout, an occasional flinch the only sign of how much pain he endured while Doyle gently worked in the liniment and wrapped each of the bruises. Finally, he helped Harry to sit up and handed the younger man his shirt. Harry's face was pale and pinched in pain, but Doyle stopped short of suggesting the hospital, He would only say no, Doyle admitted to himself.

Harry sat a moment longer and Doyle watched as he took two deep breaths, letting each out slowly and then started to stand. "Come on," Harry said, his voice tight. "We need to find that kid and end this whole reincarnation business once and for all."

Doyle watched as the other man stiffly walked out of the room. He shouldn't be conscious, much less walking, he thought slightly awed. He hurriedly gathered up the supplies he'd used and followed Houdini.

"And I still need to win our bet," Harry said as he led the way next door to the waiting Adelaide.

The Private Journal of Adelaide Stratton
Entry 02 (con't)

Is Lydia Belworth a hero? As Harry reminded me, just because Lydia is a bad person, it doesn't mean the cause is any less worthy. I like to think someday women will have the right to vote and be able to hold a job without scorn or questions about her femininity. We've only recently buried Queen Victoria, the longest reigning monarch in history, and yet a woman in the workplace is still heresy to many. I just hope it doesn't take the hundred years Houdini predicted.

Mr. Houdini is proving to be even more outrageous than any newspaper reporter would suspect. I know now not to take anything he says at face-value. He asks for trust, at the same time he insists on risking his life at the drop of a hat. A part of me is humbled by his attitude to help anyone he can, however he can, even if that means he gets hurt instead. At the same time, he is my friend, and I don't like to see him in pain, physical or emotional, and I want to try and protect him from that pain.

I suspect Doctor Doyle feels much the same way, I must remember to talk to him about it sometime soon. If nothing else we can help each other deal with Houdini's maddening personality.

Speaking of Doctor Doyle, I am so saddened by his revelation about his wife. It is clear he loves her dearly and to think how his children must feel missing their mother … I don't know how he can cope. The sad truth is he's probably not coping at all; the insistence of the existence of a spirit world and a means to communicate with those on the other side makes much more sense now. Mr. Houdini obviously knew nothing about the doctor's situation and I'm a little fearful what he will do with this new information. He's already proven he's willing to get shot at for a stranger; what lengths will he go to for a friend?

NOTE: Dialog for the episode A Dish of Adharma written by David Hoselton