“What is going on?” Skelhorn asked.
Detective Inspector Grives led them out onto the stage of the Palais theatre.
“I think you know everybody,” Vickery said.
Marlene McNair was there with her son Walter at her side. Abigail Lovelace was standing close to Danny Holcroft. The manager, Toby Crabbe, stood with Mr. Wu and Soo-Lin, and Georgie Drake was separate from all of them, scowling and looking uncomfortable. Several other theatre employees, including the blond stagehand Bryan, had learned of this gathering and huddled in the wings, peering curiously at what was happening on stage. The singer Dora Diamanté, the comedian, and the dancers were all there, and so was Constable Colman.
“Why have we been brought here?” Skelhorn asked. “I thought Mr. Holcroft had already confessed to murder.”
“On the advice of his counsel, Mr. Holcroft has retracted his confession,” Vickery said, “as Inspector Grives has no doubt already informed you.”
“And I’m sure you had nothing to do with that,” Skelhorn said.
“My only interest is to see that justice is properly served,” Vickery said.
“You are all potential suspects in this case,” Grives said. “Any one of you could be responsible for the death of Charlie McNair. You have been gathered here so that we can assess each of you in turn, according to the criteria Mr. Vickery has just outlined. The innocent will be exonerated, and the guilty party will be charged. I can only assume that we are gathered in here,” he looked around the stage, “because Mr. Vickery felt it was suitably theatrical for his purposes.”
“Thank you, Inspector,” Vickery said.
“Can we just get on with it,” Skelhorn said. “We all know what’s happening here – and what the outcome will be.”
“I will try and be as brief as I can,” Vickery said, “but at the same time, I intend to be fair and thorough.”
“Hah!” Skelhorn said.
“To prove that someone is the murderer, we must demonstrate that person had a reason to kill Charlie – that they benefited from his death in some way, and that this was the motivation for the killing,” Vickery said. “We must also show that they had the ability to carry out the killing – that they had access to the means by which Charlie was killed. And finally, we must show that they had access to Charlie at the time of the murder – that they had the opportunity to kill him. In order to satisfy a jury of a person’s guilt, we must provide evidence of all three of these things.”
“Inspector, is this really necessary?” Skelhorn asked.
“I am required to allow Mr. Vickery to detail his findings in this matter,” Grives said.
Vickery nodded his thanks and continued. “We know that Charlie McNair was killed an hour before the performance began that night and that he could have been killed up to two hours before,” Vickery said. “We must consider the whereabouts of each of you during that one-hour period. Also, the murderer must have had access to the area under the stage during the performance, in order to be able to place the body in the box, and so we also need to know where people were at that time. I think everyone understands that?”
People nodded and there was a murmur of assent.
“Let’s begin by considering whether Danny Holcroft could have been guilty of the crime to which he confessed,” Vickery said.
“Why would someone confess to a crime he didn’t commit?” Skelhorn asked.
“We will come to that,” Vickery said. “First, we must determine where Mr. Holcroft was before and during the performance.”
“We know where he was during the performance,” Toby said, “he was on the stage doing Charlie’s act.”
Vickery nodded. “And before the performance, he was putting on costume and make-up backstage, and before that he was preparing the apparatus. He had access to the area below the stage and could have killed Charlie there. He could have placed the body into the box while performing the act. I think there is very little doubt that he could have murdered Charlie. The only question that remains is, why would he do so? What does he stand to gain?”
“I would have thought that was obvious,” Skelhorn said, “he gets to take over Charlie’s act. A man can make a decent living from those illusions.”
“That is a possible motive. But Charlie offered to give Mr. Holcroft the act – he wanted to retire and have Danny continue in his place. But Danny refused because he does not enjoy performing in front of an audience.”
“He could sell the illusions, then,” Skelhorn said.
“He could. But given his skill in devising and building the apparatus for new illusions, Danny could easily have made a comfortable life for himself creating them for another magician to perform. Several magicians have approached Danny and tried to lure him away with lucrative offers – including Mr. Skelhorn here – but Danny has always turned down such offers. Because he wanted to continue to work with Charlie McNair.
“Danny Holcroft had no reason to commit a murder. Apart from a few small items of sentimental value, he gained nothing in Charlie’s will, and he knew this was the case: everything was bequeathed to Charlie’s wife and his son. Danny gained nothing from Charlie’s death – but he lost a man he considered a mentor and a friend.”
“If he had no motive, why did he confess?” Skelhorn asked.
“He had no motive for murder,” Malloy said, “but he did have a motive to confess to the killing – love.”
“If Danny Holcroft has no reason to murder Charlie, we must turn our attention toward someone else who might have benefited from his death. Walter McNair stood to inherit under the terms of Charlie’s will, so we might argue that he had a financial motive. And we also know that he argued with his father on the afternoon of the murder. He was seen – and heard – in the theatre before the curtain went up, and he was still here when Charlie’s body was discovered. He looks a more likely suspect than Danny.”
“You’re not suggesting Walter murdered his own father?” Marlene said.
“I’m exploring it as a possibility,” Vickery said. He turned back to the assembled group. “Did Walter kill his father in order to gain access to his father’s money?”
A few people looked directly at Walter, and some tried to avoid looking at them. Walter himself looked directly at Vickery, his face expressing only mild curiosity.
“How old are you, Walter?” Vickery asked.
“Twenty.”
“You will be twenty-one in seven months, am I correct?”
“A little under that, yes,” Walter said.
“Your father put funds into a trust for you, and those will be released when you reach twenty-one?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And until that time, how do you meet your weekly expenses?”
“I have a generous allowance from my parents,” Walter said.
“Do you spend all of it?”
“No, sir, I put some of it in a Post Office account.”
“You’re not short of a bob or two, then?” Vickery asked.
“I have almost enough saved to buy a motorcycle,” Walter said, “but don’t tell my mother.”
Marlene looked at him and smiled.
“It looks like Walter had no motive for killing his father,” Malloy said.
“But why did he argue with his father?” Skelhorn asked.
“Did you ever argue with your father?” Malloy asked.
“Well, yes...”
“Did you murder him?”
“Of course not,” Skelhorn said.
“Sons argue with fathers all the time,” Vickery said, “it does not mean that murder must follow.”
“But...” Skelhorn said.
“The subject of the argument is a private matter,” Vickery said firmly.
“You don’t need to protect me, Mr. Vickery,” Walter said.
“It is not necessary for those circumstances to be made public knowledge,” Vickery said.
“I know. But I would prefer to be open about this – no more secrets.” He turned to
the group. “We argued because I had just learned that Charlie McNair was not my father – he had adopted me at birth. I was angry because he had not told me. I was wrong to be angry, and I regret it now. I’m sorry our last conversation ended that way. He was the best father a man could wish for. I may not carry his blood – but he made me the man I have become. I don’t need another father – he was enough.”
Marlene smiled, her eyes glistening with tears. Raymond Skelhorn’s expression was stony.
“All right, I’ll accept that the boy didn’t do it,” Grives said. “Who’s next? What about her?” He pointed towards Abigail Lovelace.
“She’s not guilty of anything!” Danny Holcroft said.
“Strictly speaking, that’s not true,” Malloy said. “She’s guilty of deceiving you.”
Danny glared at him, but Abigail laid a hand on his arm.
“He’s right, Danny, I didn’t tell you the truth – not all of it,” Abigail said.
“It doesn’t matter, I know now,” Danny said.
“Know what?” Skelhorn asked. “What is everyone bleating on about?”
“Abigail Lovelace had a dark secret, and that made Danny suspect she might be guilty of killing Charlie,” Malloy said. “That’s why Danny confessed to the murder.”
“I was stupid to think she could have done it,” Danny said.
“Having someone willing to sacrifice themselves for you – that’s very romantic, isn’t it?” Toby said.
“No, the boy is right, he was bloody stupid,” Skelhorn said.
“You never were a romantic,” Marlene said.
“Why would she have killed Charlie, anyway?” Grives asked. “Who is she? Is she the blonde woman who was glimpsed under the stage?”
“She used to be a magician’s assistant,” Malloy said.
Skelhorn looked uncomfortable.
“I thought she looked familiar,” Marlene said. “That was her guilty secret – that she used to work for Skelhorn?”
“That was one of her secrets,” Malloy said.
“I should have told you from the start,” Abigail said to Danny. “I wish I had.”
“Miss Lovelace was afraid people would get the wrong idea about her,” Vickery said. “She once worked for Raymond Skelhorn – was she interested in Danny Holcroft only because she wanted to steal the secrets to the illusions he had created for Charlie?”
Skelhorn’s face had gone a dark red colour, and he was glaring at Vickery with undisguised loathing.
“Even more suspicious was the fact that Miss Lovelace would disappear some evenings, and refuse to tell Danny where she was going,” Vickery said. “Was she involved in some sort of criminal conspiracy? Did she have another lover? What secret double-life was she leading? And whatever it was, could it be related to the murder of Charlie McNair?”
“You make it sound like one of those dreadful radio serials,” Abigail said.
“I did consider it possible that Miss Lovelace was the murderer,” Vickery said. “I recognised her and knew she had worked with Raymond Skelhorn. It was possible she was being blackmailed or threatened by him and had been forced to kill Charlie.”
“That’s ridiculous!” Skelhorn protested.
“It is,” Vickery said, “because Miss Lovelace was not in this theatre on the night of the murder.”
“How do you know?” Grives asked.
“Because she was in another theatre across town,” Vickery said.
“Someone saw her there?” Grives asked.
“She managed to draw a respectable crowd, I think,” Vickery said. “And if they were anything like the audience on the night I saw her, they were largely enthusiastic.”
“I don’t understand,” Grives said.
“Miss Lovelace is a stage magician,” Vickery said, “and a very good one. She possesses a natural charm, and the audience loves her. She and Danny will, I am sure, go on to create a remarkable partnership. We will soon know because Toby will be offering them a trial run shortly.”
“I will?” Toby said.
“You will,” Mr. Wu said, “I quit.” People laughed at that. “And before you point finger at me, Vickery, I was in France. Not so good at magic I could kill from there.”
“Mr. Wu was indeed in Paris,” Vickery said, “I received a telegram yesterday confirming it.”
“Can’t believe you felt need to check,” Mr. Wu said. “I not kill fake Chinaman so I can appear here – it not worth effort.”
“Another suspect eliminated,” Vickery said. “Who does that leave?”
“Me,” Marlene said, “Charlie’s long-suffering wife.”
“Where were you at the time of the murder?” Grives asked.
“She was with me,” Drake said. “We were in the lobby when the gun went off. She wasn’t under the stage.”
“An alibi,” Grives said, sounding disappointed.
“Assuming Drake is not lying,” Malloy said. “The two of them could have been in league together.”
Drake turned on him angrily.
“What was the purpose of your meeting with Mrs. McNair, Mr. Drake?” Vickery asked.
“I had been hired to do some work for her,” Drake said.
“Could tell us what?” Vickery asked.
Drake looked over at Marlene, who nodded. “Marlene – Mrs. McNair – thought her husband might be – that is – that he might be keeping a mistress.”
“Charlie?!” Toby exclaimed. “Sorry,” he said, sheepishly.
“If Charlie had been unfaithful, that would give his wife a motive for murdering him, wouldn’t it?” Vickery asked.
“It would,” Drake said, “if it was true.”
“It wasn’t?” Grives asked.
“It was a misunderstanding,” Drake said. “Someone saw Miss Lovelace and Danny Holcroft out together. They mistook Danny for Charlie McNair.”
Everyone turned to look at Danny Holcroft.
“An understandable mistake,” Grives said.
“She has no motive,” Drake said, “and she has an alibi.”
“And so do you,” Vickery said.
“Me?” Drake said. “You don’t think I could have done it?”
“No, Georgie, I don’t think you’re capable of planning and executing such a crime,” Vickery said.
“Well, that’s a relief,” Drake said.
“What about me?” Toby asked.
“If you already had a star performer lined up to take his place, I might have suspected you,” Vickery said. “But you were so unprepared for the situation that you ended up getting a couple of old farts out of retirement.”
“Oi!” Malloy protested.
“I was referring to Mr. Wu,” Vickery said.
“Oi!” Mr. Wu protested.
“Now, who does that leave?” Vickery asked, surveying all those assembled.
All eyes turned to Raymond Skelhorn.
“I didn’t do it!” he protested. “You have to believe me. I am not capable of such a thing.”
“Tut tut, Raymond, no one is going to believe that – everyone here knows what you’re capable of.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
“Prove it!” Skelhorn challenged Vickery. “I was miles away at the time of the murder.”
“But he is magician, Vickery,” Mr. Wu said, “could have used magic.”
“Et tu, Wu?” Skelhorn said.
“Mr. Wu is right,” Vickery said, “I could probably demonstrate to you a method by which Skelhorn the Spectacular here could have killed Charlie, even over a distance of five or six miles. With Bristow’s help, an elaborate apparatus could have been set-up and set in motion remotely.”
“I didn’t do it!” Skelhorn’s voice was almost a sob.
“You don’t need to keep saying it – I know you didn’t,” Vickery said.
“But I didn’t – wait...”
“What did you say?” Grives asked.
“Raymond Skelhorn did not kill Charlie McNair,” Vickery said.
“He didn’t?” Malloy said.
“He could have, but he didn’t,” Vickery said. “The trouble with setting up elaborate mechanisms for murdering people in impossible situations is that they involve a great deal of risk. We all know what machines are like – they go wrong at the worst possible moment. And if someone did succeed with such an apparatus, the finger of guilt would immediately point at a magician or at least a magician’s assistant. No, Mr. Skelhorn did not kill Charlie.”
“But what about all the evidence?” Grives asked. “It all points to him.”
“Ah, yes, the evidence,” Vickery said. “Someone went to a great deal of trouble to set that up. The question now becomes: Who would do such a thing?”
Grives looked around the stage. “There’s no one left,” he said. “They can’t all be innocent!” He looked at Vickery, who smiled. “You’re not going to suggest I did it, are you?”
“Are you going to protest that you couldn’t possibly be guilty of a crime because you are an officer of the law?” Vickery asked.
“I’m not guilty of murder!” Grives said.
Vickery stared at him for a moment longer, prolonging the Inspector’s discomfort. “No, you are not guilty of murder,” he said, to Grives’ obvious relief. “But the murderer is on this stage.”
Vickery paused for dramatic effect, and the atmosphere grew uncomfortable. Those assembled looked at each other, none of them quite making eye contact.
“The ‘evidence’ against Mr. Skelhorn was intended to make us all believe something that wasn’t true,” Vickery said. “The person responsible for that deception also created ‘evidence’ that made them appear to be innocent.”
“Sounds like work of magician,” Mr. Wu said.
“That’s what we were meant to believe,” Vickery said. He looked around the room. They all looked at him, then they looked around at each other, and then they looked back at Vickery. He seemed in no hurry to speak again.
“Why don’t you tell us how you did it, Marlene?” Vickery said.
All eyes turned towards Marlene McNair. For a moment, her face registered shock and then a faint smile appeared on her lips. She seemed almost relieved.
“I was sure I had you fooled,” she said.
“You were a formidable opponent,” Vickery said. “And I didn’t want to believe you were guilty.”
Murder by Magic Page 21