Murder by Magic

by Paul Tomlinson

  “That’s why he hated Charlie. But why does he hate you?”

  Vickery shrugged. “Perhaps he feels threatened by anyone who knows how his illusions work. And also knows how he obtained some of their secrets.”

  “A man of dubious moral character,” Malloy said.

  “I think we should be careful about casting aspersions,” Vickery said. “But having said that, after you shake hands with a man like Raymond, always check you still have your wristwatch.”

  Malloy rested his arm on the top of the steering wheel and drew back his sleeve. His watch was missing. “Bastard!”

  Vickery held up the watch, swinging it by the leather strap, and smiled.

  “You took it?” Malloy asked.

  “I took it from him after he took it from you,” Vickery said.

  “I can see why he hates you.” Malloy grinned.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Milly looked startled when she opened the door to them. “Is it bad news?” she asked.

   “No, why would you think that?” Vickery asked.

  Milly showed them into the front room. “I was going to send you a note,” she said. “Danny is missing. He went out after you came by the other day – I haven’t seen him since. I thought you had come to tell me something had happened to him.”

  “We came because we wanted to talk to him again,” Vickery said. “Nothing’s happened to him, I’m sure.”

  “You think he’s all right?” Milly asked.

  “Everyone grieves in their own way,” Vickery said, “he may have decided he needed some time alone, to come to terms with what has happened.”

  “Or he might have needed to talk to someone about it,” Malloy suggested. “His girlfriend, perhaps?”

  “It’s possible.” Milly didn’t sound convinced.

  “Was Danny courting?” Vickery asked.

  “He doesn’t talk about things like that – he’s a very private person,” Milly said. “He’ll talk about the theatre, but if you ask him about anything outside of that, he just clams up.”

  Vickery glanced at Malloy, who shrugged.

  “Did he ever mention any of his friends by name?” Malloy asked.

  Milly shook her head. “The only people he ever talks about are Charlie and Marlene. His whole world seems to revolve around them. Or it did. I hope he hasn’t gone and done something silly.”

  “I don’t think it has come to that,” Vickery said.

  “We could try and find him – if we had some idea of who he spends his time with,” Malloy said.

  “I know, I’m sorry,” Milly said, “but he hasn’t been here that long. And the young uns don’t gossip like we do, eh Ben?”

  Malloy tried to hide his laugh by turning it into a cough: Vickery scowled at him.

  “Isn’t there anything you can think of that might help us locate him?” Vickery asked.

  Milly spread her hands helplessly. “He never said anything,” she said. “And you know me, I don’t like to pry. The only thing I can think of is – but no, it’s facts you want if you’re going to help him.”

  “Tell us anyway,” Malloy said, “anything is better than nothing.”

  “You think?” Milly looked to Vickery, and he nodded encouragement. “Well, like I said, Danny didn’t say much – he was shy, I suppose,” she said. “But I knew he was seeing someone. He used to dress up real smart when he went out. He had a lovely suit – not the sort of thing you expect a young man like him to buy. Very grown-up. And he ironed his own shirt – as white as your own it was, Ben. And his tie was raw silk – a beautiful emerald green.”

  “You have no idea who he was going out to meet?” Vickery asked.

  Milly shook her head slowly. “I think it was an older woman. And I think she was married. Maybe that’s why he didn’t talk about her.”

  “Why do you think she was older?” Malloy asked.

  “Because of how he dressed – and the way he slicked his hair down. It made him look older. He even grew a moustache – but that only lasted a day, I think.”

  “What makes you say she might have been married?” Vickery asked.

  “Something he said once – it struck me as odd at the time,” Milly said. “He said he’d never get married, because sometimes a person marries the wrong person, and then they’re stuck with them for the rest of their life.” She smiled sadly. “It’s the sort of thing young people say. Sometimes the whole of a life isn’t long enough, is it Ben? Arthur’s been gone – this is my eighth year without him.”

  “I’m sorry,” Malloy said, not knowing what else he could say.

  “Not every day was a happy one,” she said, “but the good ones more than made up for the bad ones. Young people don’t understand that – they think every day should be Christmas.”

  “If Danny returns – or if you hear from him – please let us know,” Vickery said, getting to his feet.

  Milly stood quickly, concern on her face. “But you are going to look for him?”

  “Of course,” Vickery said, smiling. “But we need you to tell us if he comes back – so we can stop looking.”

  “Oh, yes, how silly of me,” Milly said.

  “Danny is going to be fine,” Vickery said.

  “Yes, well, the sooner you clean this mess up, the better it will be for everyone,” Milly said.

  “Me?” Vickery said.

  “You and Doctor Watson there,” she said, nodding towards Malloy. “You think I don’t know what you two are up to, Ben Vickery?”

  Vickery winked. “I’m sure I can rely on you to keep our secret, can’t I?”

  “I think you’ll find most people know your secret,” Milly said and winked at him.

  “What did you make of that?” Vickery asked when they were back in the car.

  “Going about with someone older?” Malloy said. “There’s definitely something odd about that.”

  “Why would someone want to associate with a person whose outlook, comparatively speaking, was so immature?” Vickery said.

  “Perhaps it makes the older person feel young again,” Malloy suggested.

  “Or perhaps there is a genuine attraction between the two of them,” Vickery said.

  “That seems a bit unlikely, doesn’t it?” Malloy said.

  “Have you ever considered growing a moustache?”

  “You think it would make me more mature?” Malloy asked, looking at his face in the rear-view mirror.

  “That might be asking too much of facial hair,” Vickery said.

  “Danny Holcroft thought it would work for him.”

  “He did, didn’t he?” Vickery said. “Though I suspect his might not have been real.”

  “Why do you think that?”

  “One doesn’t grow and then lose a real moustache in a single day.”

  “Did Charlie McNair have a moustache?” Malloy asked.

  “Yes, he’s had one all the time I’ve known him. The long moustache he wore on stage was fake – his was very thin and quite short.”

  “Like Douglas Fairbanks?”

  “Charlie wasn’t quite as dashing as Fairbanks.”

  “That sort of moustache doesn’t suit everyone,” Malloy said, looking sideways at Vickery.

  Vickery’s hand went to his top lip. “You don’t like mine? Do you think I should get rid of it?”

  “No, no. It makes you look very mature.”

  “But not dashing?”

  “You don’t need a moustache to look dashing, Mr. Vickery.”

  “Why, Mr. Malloy, I do believe that was a compliment.”

  “Don’t grow to expect them.”

  “I shall treasure it all the more for its rarity.”

  “Who do you think Danny Holcroft’s mysterious married lady might be?” Malloy asked.

  “I thought at first it could be Marlene McNair,” Vickery said.

  “You thought at first it could have been an older man, admit it,” Malloy teased.

  “Stranger things happen,” V
ickery said.

  “You don’t think it is Marlene?”

  “She did seem rather taken with him, didn’t she? He was like Charlie as a young man, that’s what she said, isn’t it?”

  “And he made her feel younger too,” Malloy said.

  Vickery nodded. “But when we spoke to Danny, he said Marlene was like a mother to him.”

  “He said ‘older sister,’ didn’t he?”

  “Only after he caught himself,” Vickery said.

  “Even so, he could still be attracted to her, couldn’t he?”

  “If you believe Doctor Freud, all boys are attracted to their mothers,” Vickery said.

  “Apart from the ones who are attracted to their daddies?” Malloy grinned.

  “I’m not sure Sigmund has all the answers. Pull up at the post office, I want to send a telegram.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “There’s a rough-looking man here to see you,” Betty said. “He doesn’t have an appointment, and he won’t go away.”

  Vickery looked at her over his newspaper. “Did he give his name?”

  “He said, ‘Tell him Toby’s here, he’ll know who you mean,’ and he wouldn’t give his surname. You don’t know him, do you?” Betty said.

  “Indeed we do, show him up, please,” Vickery said.

  Betty looked across at Malloy, seeking some support there. He grinned at her. She tutted and turned away.

  “Going to the dogs we are, us and the whole rest of the country,” she muttered on her way out.

  “Does Betty ever think anyone’s fit to come up here?” Malloy asked.

  “I’m not even sure she approves of my presence,” Vickery said, folding his newspaper.

  The opened. “Toby!” Betty announced, disdainfully.

  Toby Crabbe flinched as the door banged shut behind him. He stood, holding his cap in both hands in front of him, turning it nervously.

  “Have a seat, Toby, we don’t stand on ceremony here,” Vickery said, indicating the sofa.

  Toby glanced over his shoulder towards the door. “Am I allowed on the furniture?”

  “Don’t mind Betty,” Malloy said, “she used to guard the gates of Hades.”

  Toby smiled and sat down.

  “Would you like some tea and a toasted muffin?” Vickery asked. “We were just about to ring for a second pot.”

  “Oh, no! I wouldn’t like to put her out,” Toby said.

  “Malloy?” Vickery asked.

  “Actually, I’m fine too,” he said, glancing towards the door.

  “Another victory for Betty, then,” Vickery said. “What brings you to this side of town, Toby?”

  “You said I should let you know if I thought of anything else that might help you, you know, get to the bottom of Charlie’s death,” Toby said.

  “We’ll take any help we can get, Toby. What do you have for us?” Vickery said.

  “Well, it’s not me. Not exactly. It was something Elsie – that’s my wife,” Toby looked towards Malloy, who nodded. “It’s something she saw. And that made me remember something I’d seen before, if that makes sense?”

  “Perfect sense,” Vickery said, “tell us what you both saw.”

  “Elsie went to see Marlene this morning, to see how she was doing, you know? They weren’t friends, not really, but you know what women are like – always after giving help to those as don’t ask for it,” Toby said. “She got off the bus at the end of the street, and was walking up towards Marlene and Charlie’s lodgings – well, Marlene’s now, I suppose. Elsie doesn’t walk fast, as you can imagine, and she had plenty of time to see who was coming out of Marlene’s front door.”

  “Was it someone she recognised?” Malloy asked.

  “No,” Toby said, “but the odd thing is, when she described him to me, I recognised him instantly.”

  “Who was it?” Malloy asked.

  “I have no idea,” Toby said.

  “What?” Malloy said.

  “He was someone you had seen before?” Vickery asked.

  Toby nodded. “At first I couldn’t think where, but then I realised I must have seen him at the theatre, because... well, I never really go anywhere else.”

  “Do you remember what he was doing at the theatre?” Vickery asked.

  “He was talking to Marlene,” Toby said. “I remember catching only a glimpse of them, but they had their heads together like they was kids at the back the class up to no good.”

  “You think Marlene and this man were up to no good?” Malloy asked.

  “Well, I wouldn’t want to go that far,” Toby said, “and I only saw them the once, very briefly. But they looked like they was up to something.”

  “Can you describe this man to us?” Vickery asked.

  “He was heavily built, fortyish if I had to guess, in a wrinkled greeny-brown suit. His legs looked short and thick for his height. Brown hat, with sweat stains showing through the band. Boots rather than shoes. With several days of beard on his face, very dark.”

  “Splendid, Toby, you have him to a tee – we shall certainly recognise him when we see him!”

  Toby Crabbe was obviously flattered by the compliment.

  “Does he have a dog called Bullseye?” Malloy asked.

  Toby frowned. “I couldn’t tell you that – why do you ask?”

  “I thought you were describing Bill Sykes,” Malloy said.

  “Bill who?”

  “Ignore him, he’s being facetious,” Vickery said.

  “I am not – I don’t even know what facetious means,” Malloy protested. He withered under Vickery’s mock-paternal glare.

  “This is useful information, Toby, thank you for bringing it to us,” Vickery said.

  “Anything I can do to help, I will,” Toby said.

  “Is there anything else you want to share with us?” Vickery asked.

  “Nothing more to tell, I’m sure,” Toby said, “but I do have something I’d like to ask.”

  “Fire away, Toby, no need to be shy,” Vickery said.

  “Well, it’s just that I’m not sure I should ask it,” he said.

  “We’re all friends here – don’t hesitate to speak freely,” Vickery said.

  Malloy nodded encouragement too.

  “Well, the thing is, it’s the theatre,” Toby said. “We’ve been closed, and that means no money coming in, and... well, you know what that means. I need to re-open the doors and get the crowds in. Or we’re done for.”

  “People will come along just to gawk at the scene of the crime,” Malloy said.

  “They might,” Toby said, “but only if we’ve got something on the stage for them to come and watch. We need a name on the bill. I’ve sent word to Paris – to the Great Orlando.”

  “A good choice,” Vickery said, “that’s a name people know. He did a Royal Variety Performance.”

  “Aye, but he’s not free until the end of the month,” Toby said. “That’s two weeks away, so we need someone to fill in until then. Mr. Wu has said he’ll help us out...”

  “Has he indeed?” Vickery said. “I thought he’d retired.”

  “He has, twice at least. But he’ll come back to help out an old friend.”

  “Good chap,” Vickery said.

  “But he can’t get here until Monday.”

  “Oh, dear.”

  “And I want to open the doors Friday night at the latest – catch the weekend crowd...”

  “That is awkward,” Vickery said.

  Malloy watched this exchange, knowing where the theatre manager was going with it and wondered why it wasn’t obvious to Vickery as well.

  “I thought that...” Toby said. “Well, I just wondered really...”

  “Mr. Crabbe, I don’t...” Malloy said, but Vickery cut him off.

  “Wondered what, Toby?”

  “If you might, you know, come out of retirement as well – to help an old friend,” Toby said.

   “That’s not something...” Malloy said, and again Vickery inte
rrupted.

  “For one weekend only?” Vickery said.

  Toby nodded, face hopeful.

  Vickery gave the request careful consideration.

  “You don’t have to do this,” Malloy said. “If you think it’s going to bring back...”

  “I’ll do it,” Vickery said.

  “You will?” Malloy and Toby said this in unison. It was hard to tell which was the most surprised.

  “You will be my assistant, of course,” Vickery said after Toby was gone.

  “Will I hell – are you mad?” Malloy said.

  “You won’t have to say anything – I just need your help with the apparatus.”

  “Not a chance,” Malloy said.

  “Why ever not?”

  “Because – because I can’t be what Terry was!”

  Malloy was visibly distressed, and Vickery silently considered his outburst.

  “I can’t be him,” Malloy said, his voice barely more than a whisper.

  “I don’t want you to be him,” Vickery said.

  “What do you want? You said I’m not your chauffeur. You tell people I am your ‘associate’ – I don’t even know what that means. What do you want me to be?”

  “I want you to be yourself. I want you to be the man I first met in that prison cell five years ago. I want you to be the man who helped me to unmask the murderer at Fulbright’s dreadful party. Be you.”

  “I don’t know who that is,” Malloy said. “I’m not even sure if I liked that man.”

  “I did,” Vickery said, “I do.”

  Malloy stared down at the pattern in the carpet. He drew a long shuddering breath. “Partners?” he said. “For one weekend only?”

  “Let’s start with a weekend, and see how it goes,” Vickery said.

  *

  When Malloy arrived next morning, Betty caught him by the elbow and took him to one side.

  “You’re not really going to do this, are you?” she asked.

  “Do what?” Malloy asked.

  “The magic trick thing.”

  “I have said that I will,” he said.

  “If it was me, I wouldn’t have nothing to do with them magic tricks. They’re dangerous. One of them killed poor Mister Terence.” Betty emphasised her point with a dramatic shudder.