Murder by Magic

by Paul Tomlinson

  Drake opened and closed his mouth, then scratched his head. “I will do it for her,” he said.

  “But you will report to me,” Vickery said. “Stay away from Marlene McNair.”

  “No fear,” Drake said, jamming his hat back on his head. “She made it very clear what she’d do if she saw me again.” Unaware he was doing it, he placed a protective hand in front of his groin.

  “We will speak again tomorrow,” Vickery said.

  “I’ll see myself out, shall I?” Drake said.

  “You’ll be fine – Betty doesn’t bite.”

  Drake put another protective hand on top of the first and walked towards the door.

  *

   The brightly-painted box looked no bigger than a tea-chest. It was perched on four dining chairs in the sitting room.

  “You have to imagine it sitting on the stage over a trapdoor,” Vickery said.

  “I can do that,” Malloy said, “but I’m struggling to imagine myself fitting inside it.” Malloy was wearing a sleeveless undershirt, the sort of trousers usually worn by gymnasts, and tennis shoes. He felt ridiculous.

  “It’s roomier than it looks,” Vickery reassured him. “When you’re inside, keep your head on this side,” he slapped his palm on the side of the box, “and avoid this spot here – this is where I’ll insert the first blade.”

  “About the blades,” Malloy said, eyeing the pile of sabre-like items on the carpet, “they’re metal.”

  “That’s right.”

  “And pointed.”

  “Only for effect,” Vickery said. “Rounded ends wouldn’t look nearly as effective – they’re not sharp, and the blades have no edge on them at all.”

  “I’m sure Betty would make a much better assistant than me,” Malloy said, “she’d fit in the box easily.”

  “You’ll be fine,” Vickery said, “you’ll be out through the bottom of the box right after the first blade goes in.”

  “What if the bottom doesn’t open? What if I get stuck in there? I’ll be stabbed to death!”

  “Jamie, I will be standing right beside the box. If you tap on the side, I’ll know there’s a problem, and I won’t insert the other blades.”

  “What if you don’t hear me tapping?”

  “Then I’ll hear you scream when I push the second blade in, and I’ll pull it straight out.”

  “That’s not funny.”

  “Climb into the box, and we’ll run through the whole thing at half-speed – then you’ll see how easy it all is.”

  “All right. But if there’s a problem, I’m going to knock on the side of the box really loudly.” Malloy approached the box without enthusiasm.

  *

  “Let me see,” Vickery said. “It’s only a scratch.”

  “You almost pierced my ear!” Malloy protested.

  “I warned you to keep your head on the other side.”

  “It’s dark in there, I got disorientated.”

  “It is straightforward enough,” Vickery said. “The holes in the box are where the blades will go in. The holes at the top are on this side only,” he pointed, “and that’s the place where your head shouldn’t be. Get that right, and you’ll come to no harm.”

  Malloy pulled his hand away from his ear and looked at the thin smear of blood on his palm. “Don’t tell me it’s perfectly safe,” he said, “Charlie McNair died in a box like that.”

  “Poor Charlie was dead before he was put into the box,” Vickery said. “You have nothing to worry about.”

  “If these trousers ride up anymore, I’ll have plenty to worry about – I’ll be singing castrato.”

  “Tuck the stirrups under your feet,” Vickery suggested.

  “Is that what those little loops are for?”

  “What did you think they were for?”

  “Hanging them up?” Malloy said.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “A Miss Abigail Lovelace to see you,” Betty said. “She doesn’t seem at all disreputable.”

  Malloy looked at Vickery, who shrugged: neither of them recognised the name.

  “Send her up,” Vickery said.

  Betty turned and found the young woman standing in the doorway behind her. “Miss Lovelace,” she announced flatly, backing away to allow her to enter.

  “I do wish people would wait downstairs to be fetched like they’re supposed to,” Betty muttered, closing the door.

  Malloy rose to greet her. “You’re Miss Love-less,” he said, “now isn’t that a shame?”

  “Abigail,” she said, confused. “Mr. Vickery?”

  “My associate, Mr. Malloy,” Vickery said, a smile on his lips.

  “I see.” She did not seem impressed.

  Abigail Lovelace was tall, blonde, and stylishly dressed. Her hair and clothing suggested Europe rather than London, but her shoes did not quite fit the picture: they were the low-heeled, sensible footwear of a nanny and not the expected Spanish heels. Her hat was a plain pillbox in a slightly darker shade of plum than her coat and was pinned at an angle. Malloy judged that she was a few years older than him, but she could easily have passed for mid-twenties but for the tiredness that showed in her eyes. He sensed a coolness in her, a warning not to get too close. She accepted the invitation to sit on the sofa, unbuttoning her coat, but not removing it.

  “I will be brief,” she said, “for time is short.”

  “We have been hoping to speak with you,” Vickery said.

  “Is that why you sent that ridiculous detective looking for me?” she asked.

  “Drake owed a favour,” Vickery said.

  “He has no idea where I am,” she said, “he’s following someone else. He’ll probably end up in Fishguard.”

  “Wouldn’t that be terrible?” Vickery said, smiling.

  “You should have come after me yourself,” Abigail said.

  “I didn’t need to, did I?” he said.

  “You didn’t know I would come here,” she said, but she didn’t seem certain.

  “I thought you might,” he said, “after Danny disappeared.”

  “I never meant any harm to come to him,” she said.

  “Has he come to harm?” Vickery asked.

  “No,” she said. “Not really. Not yet. But I fear he will be killed.”

  “By who?” Malloy asked.

  “Raymond Skelhorn,” Vickery said.

  Abigail’s eyes flashed towards him, suspicious, but then she nodded. “You recognised me.”

  “Miss Lovelace used to be Skelhorn the Spectacular’s on-stage assistant,” Vickery explained to Malloy. “Her hair was red then, and she went by the name Constance.”

  “That’s what he preferred,” she said.

  “I like Abigail better,” Malloy said.

  “It’ll do for now,” she said. “Will you help me?”

  “To do what?” Vickery asked.

  “Rescue Danny,” she said.

  “He’s been kidnapped by Skelhorn?” Malloy asked.

  “Men working for him,” she said. “I’m sure of it.”

  “And you think they will kill him?” Vickery asked.

  “If he tells them to, yes,” she said.

  “Why would Ray Skelhorn want to hurt Danny?” Malloy asked.

  “It’s my fault,” Abigail said. “He found out about us.”

  “I thought you were finished with Skelhorn?” Vickery said.

  “You’re never finished with him,” she said bitterly, “until he’s finished with you.” 

  “Tell us what happened to Danny,” Vickery said.

  “He was taken,” Abigail said, “by two men. Big men.” Her eagerness to get out in search of Danny was evident in her posture.

  “Where did this happen?” Vickery asked, showing no sign of moving from his armchair.

  Abigail sighed, realising help would not be forthcoming unless she explained herself fully.

  “He is in danger,” she said, defensively. “Danny and I arranged to in the tea room – ju
st down the street from where he was staying.”

  Vickery nodded: they had seen it when they first visited Danny – a little shop with half-a-dozen tables and a sturdy waitress who had looked less than nippy.

  “I was late because a cart had overturned and the bus couldn’t get through,” she said. “I had to get off and walk the last bit. I was only five or ten minutes late. When I got there, I could see Danny sitting at a table – and there were two men standing over him. Instead of going in, I crossed the street and hid in one of the entries in the terrace. I’m not sure why I did that, except that those men – well, I didn’t like the look of them.”

  “You thought they might be looking for you?” Vickery said.

  Abigail bit her lip, deciding whether to answer. “Yes,” she said.

  “From your hiding place across the road, what did you see?” Vickery asked.

  “They all came out of the tea shop – Danny and the two men,” she said.

  “Was he being coerced?” Vickery asked.

  Abigail shook her head. “Danny looked nervous, but he went with them willingly. They had a car, and they all got inside.”

  “What type of car?” Vickery asked.

  “What type? I don’t know anything about...”

  “Big or small? Green or blue?” Malloy prompted.

  “Small, two doors. Danny climbed in the back, the two men get in the front – it looked like quite a squeeze. It was dark blue at the bottom, and the roof was black.”

  “Tell us what you did then,” Vickery said.

  “They drove away, heading in the direction of the river. I ran back to the main road and found a taxi. I asked the driver to follow the blue car.”

  Vickery seemed satisfied with this account, nodding and encouraging her to continue.

  “They drove for quite some time, almost to the river, and then back along it. I was afraid I wouldn’t have enough in my purse for the fare, and I think the driver was too. ‘Are you sure you want to continue, miss?’ he said, more than once. I told him I didn’t want to lose sight of the car. I don’t think he much liked the area we were driving into, and I couldn’t blame him.”

  “You managed to follow the other car without them seeing you?” Malloy asked.

  Abigail nodded. “Taxi drivers know how to do that sort of thing, don’t they?”

  “Some of them,” Malloy said. “Where did you finish up?”

  “At the back of the warehouse. The driver turned and leaned back over the seat. ‘I can’t leave you here, miss. It in’t safe,’ he said. I asked him to wait for me – told him I had a pound folded up in my handbag, my emergency money, and I’d give it to him if he waited. I said Danny was my brother, he was in trouble, and I had to help him. ‘If I don’t come back in ten minutes, go and fetch the police,’ I said. In the end, the driver came with me, and I went and peeked in a window at the back of the warehouse. He lifted me up so I could see in.”

  “And could you see Danny?” Malloy asked.

  Abigail nodded sadly. “He was in this empty room, tied to a chair in the middle of the floor. I couldn’t see the two men, but their car was still outside.”

  “You then asked the taxi driver to bring you here?” Vickery asked.

  “I didn’t know who else I could go to,” she said.

  “Not the police?” Vickery asked.

  “I didn’t think they would believe me,” she said.

  It wasn’t a very convincing explanation, but Vickery nodded.

  “Can you tell us how to find this warehouse?” Vickery asked, getting to his feet.

  Abigail nodded. “I’ll take you there.”

  “Miss Lovelace, this is hardly a job for...” Malloy began, but Vickery cut him off.

  “Fetch the car round, Jamie,” Vickery said, “we’ll all go together.”

  “I don’t think that’s...” Malloy said.

  “We mustn’t waste time arguing if Danny’s life is in danger,” Vickery said.

  Malloy stood, still ready to protest, but then he went to the drawer and took out the car keys.

  “Take the little brass key as well,” Vickery told him. “Go up to my room and open the metal cabinet – bring down two revolvers. Make sure they’re both loaded.” He was watching Abigail while he said this.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  “We’ll be downstairs waiting for you,” Vickery said.

  Malloy nodded once and exited.

  “Now, ‘Miss Lovelace’, why don’t you tell me the truth about you and Danny Holcroft?” Vickery said.

  “I care what happens to him,” she said, “that’s all you need to know.”

  Vickery stared at her. “Perhaps there is hope for you yet,” he said.

  They heard Malloy’s footsteps descending the stairs, passing the sitting room door, and then going down to the hall below. The front door banged shut.

  “We must hurry,” Abigail said. “You know what Skelhorn is capable of.” She moved towards the door and waited for him to do the same. “Whatever happens, we must save Danny – he’s blameless in all this.”

  “I have never thought otherwise,” Vickery said.

  Chapter Twenty

  Vickery sat in the back of the Alvis with Abigail, but there was no conversation between them during the drive. Vickery’s coldness towards her made Malloy curious, and he adjusted the rear-view mirror so he could watch them. Abigail leaned forward to give directions several times, but aside from that, she said nothing.

  Their route took them down to a filthy industrial area that had changed little since the last century. The brickwork might once have been red and the windows unbroken, but otherwise the buildings were as they had been in the days before the motorcar. At one time, goods would have come upriver, been unloaded here, and taken into the warehouses. Now it was where the city pushed its rubbish onto barges to be taken away downwind and out of sight.

  The side streets were empty and dark, the lamps no longer lit.

  “I suppose the day-trippers have all gone home,” Malloy said. “It’s too late to get an ice-cream, I suppose.” He glanced in the mirror, but both passengers were ignoring him. “Ah well, it would spoil my tea anyway.”

  “How much further?” Vickery asked.

  “It’s the next road on the left, and right at the end of that street,” Abigail said, “then the warehouse will be facing us.”

  “Turn off the headlamps,” Vickery said, “and drive slowly.”

  “We must hurry!” Abigail insisted.

  “I would prefer to retain the element of surprise,” Vickery said. “You say you saw two men – there may be more.”

  Driving in almost total darkness now, Malloy steered the car left into a short, cobbled street, moving at little more than walking pace. The sound of the engine echoed back at them through the open windows of the Alvis.

   “Pull up here, we’ll proceed on foot,” Vickery said

  Malloy pulled into the kerb at the end of the street.

  “You should find a couple of bicycle lamps in the boot,” Vickery said.

  Malloy opened the door for Abigail, then went to retrieve the lamps. He slammed the boot closed, and passed one of the lamps to Vickery. Both men then drew the revolvers from their coat pockets.

  “You said Danny was in a room at the back?” Malloy asked.

  “Yes,” Abigail said.

  “Stay here, I’ll go and have a quick shufti,” Malloy said.

  “We should all go together,” Abigail said.

  “This could be a trap,” Malloy said.

  “Do you think I would do something like that?” she asked.

  “I’m certain you have done worse things,” Vickery said.

  Abigail’s face darkened.

  Malloy looked at Vickery. “I’m missing something here, I think,” he said. “Stay out of sight. I will signal with the lamp if the way’s clear.”

  Vickery caught Malloy’s arm as he turned. “No heroics,” he said.

  Malloy nod
ded, and hurried away silently, rounding the corner and heading towards the warehouse. They watched him until he disappeared into the darkness.

  “Where did you find him?” Abigail asked.

  “In a jail cell,” Vickery said.

  She stared at him, unsure whether he was joking. From his expression, she judged that he wasn’t. “He would die for you,” she said.

  “I would prefer that he didn’t,” Vickery said. “If anything does happen to Jamie tonight, I will hunt down all of those responsible.”

  “This isn’t a trap,” Abigail said, “we’re here to save Danny – nothing else.”

  “I believe that part of your story,” Vickery said, “you do care for Danny Holcroft.”

  “If anything happens to Danny tonight...”

  “There’s the signal,” Vickery said, “the coast is clear.”

  They rose, ready to move forward. Vickery put a restraining hand on Abigail’s arm.

  “Miss Lovelace,” he said, “should it become necessary for Malloy or me to fire our revolvers, I would advise that you stand behind us. It would be most unfortunate if a stray bullet were to strike you.”

  Abigail looked into his eyes and swallowed. She nodded.

  The two of them hurried towards the spot where Malloy’s lamp had been visible.

  “Everything all right?” Malloy asked when they reached him.

  “Miss Lovelace and I understand each other,” Vickery said.

  Malloy nodded. “I’m still missing something, aren’t I?”

  “Did you see Danny in there?” Abigail asked.

  “I didn’t see anyone,” Malloy said. “There’s no light in there, and it’s all quiet.”

  “He’s in the room at the back,” Abigail said.

  “Let’s go and have a look then,” Malloy said. “Stay behind us.”

  Abigail smiled weakly.

  “Are there doors at the back?” Vickery asked.

  “Big gates,” Malloy said. “Don’t look like they’ve been opened for a while – rubbish piled in front of them.”

  “Then we’ll go in the front,” Vickery said.

  It was an old door, the paint faded and chipped, but it looked solid.