As they entered the yard The Prof, assuming that Laura had gone back to the house with his jacket, suddenly began to feel the cold. He was made to feel even chillier by George’s next remark.
Totally out of context he said, ‘Dead man’s shoes!’
‘Come again!’
‘Forgive the expression but, when I helped you into the saddle, I couldn’t help but notice you were wearing Jack Ramsden’s shoes. I didn’t say anything at the time...it was none of my business! But now, in view of the accident, I think it becomes more relevant!’
‘You think so?’
‘Don’t you? Dead man’s shoes! You were wearing them, weren’t you? You still are! And you were supposed to ride an animal that could be a bit high-spirited and, we now discover, had a dodgy stirrup leather! Think about that, lad! Would Alice not have cried, "Curiouser and curiouser!” Do you not think it was an accident waiting to happen? Look, I don’t want to sound too melodramatic but, if the plan hadn’t been changed and you had been aboard the original mount, you might have had the accident and there’s just the chance it could have been fatal. Another corpse wearing a dead man’s shoes!’
‘You make it sound.! Too close for comfort!’
‘Look, Giles, go on up to the house and get out of these clothes. You look as if you’re getting cold. Either that or it could be that mild shock is setting in. Doreen should have breakfast ready. I’ll get mine after I attend to our two special residents.’
‘Thanks! I’ll do that!’
‘Oh, and Professor, maybe I can have a word with you later?’
As he walked towards the house The Prof looked up and tried to identify the window where he thought he’d seen someone watching through binoculars. It could have been one of the windows above the library, possibly the bathroom or one of the bedrooms next to it. He couldn’t be certain.
He removed his shoes at the door and, carrying them, dashed upstairs and went straight to the bathroom where he took off his riding hat, splashed his face and towelled himself dry. He opened the window and looked out; he could clearly see the yard where George was washing down one of the horses. Beyond that he doubted if anyone could see as far as where the accident had happened. That posed another question and suggested.?
He grabbed hat and shoes, went straight to his bedroom and changed into polo neck and slacks. A pair of light shoes completed his attire. He dumped the other shoes, the dead man’s shoes, under the bed and left his riding clothes on top of the bed in a neat pile, a relic from his RAF days.
Before going downstairs he looked out of his own window and checked the distant view. It was just possible, he supposed, that the accident might have been seen from there. But that meant.!
He felt it was a moment for smoking a cigar but not before breakfast and certainly not this early! He went down to the dining room instead.
Victor, Conrad, Edgar and Sally were already tucking in to a full cooked breakfast and the smell of sausages, bacon and eggs plus the aroma of coffee and toast was more than he could resist. He was ravenous after the events of the morning and said as much!
As he helped himself from the hot platters he sensed four pairs of eyes boring into him.
‘Don’t you want to hear how your little Laura is?’
‘Yes, Conrad, as a matter of fact I do!’ he said with a touch of impatience beginning to show in his tone. ‘But, before you tell me, perhaps you can explain to me how you knew there had been an accident?’
‘It was Mabel! Didn’t George explain? She’ll tell you herself when she comes down. She’s upstairs with Laura and the doc!’
‘Are you sure you didn’t watch it happening from an upstairs window?’
‘I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about!’
The door opened and Mabel came in.
’You tell him, Mabel. Tell the Professor how his precious Laura is! You put her to bed. Anyway it’s your entire fault,’ he said pointing a finger at Giles, ‘if it hadn’t been for you switching horses at the last min...!’ Conrad’s voice choked to a hoarse whisper.
His wife, Mabel, came to his rescue.
‘Laura is sleeping,’ she said. When we got back to the house Conrad phoned Doctor Richardson. He lives a short distance away, this side of town, and said he didn’t mind it being Sunday. He was here in no time. Laura was in bed when he arrived. He’s just gone but says he’ll be back tomorrow morning.’
‘What else did he say, Mabel?’
‘He was sure there were no fractures. She seems to have been very lucky. She’s sore and beginning to stiffen up. He suggested rest, gave her a couple of pills and closed her bedroom curtains. He said to give him a call if things got worse! He sounded very reassuring.’
‘Thank God for that!’
The door opened and Freddie Oldsworth breezed in with a ‘Morning all!’ to everyone.
‘Did you sleep well?’ asked a subdued Victor.
‘I’ll say! And it’s given me an appetite! But why all the glum faces? Is something wrong?’
‘There’s been an accident!’ said Sally, ‘But we don’t think it’s too serious.’
Looking round the room, Freddie intervened with, ‘I’m sorry. Is it Mrs. Ramsden?’
‘No!’ It was Victor who cleared up the misunderstanding. ‘Mother’s fine. She’s having an extra long lie this morning. No, it’s Laura! She’s had a nasty fall when out riding with Giles. Mabel’s just come from her bedroom where the doctor was attending her and the news is not as bad as we thought.’
Edgar rose from the table. ‘Why don’t you tuck in to some breakfast, Freddie. We’ve had ours. I’m going to check if the Sunday papers have arrived.’
‘I’ll come with you,’ said Conrad.
Victor discreetly encouraged Mabel and Sally to follow their husbands and allow Giles and Freddie to finish eating and have a private conversation.
’Are you okay?’ Freddie asked when the others had gone.
‘Yes, at least I think I am.’ The Prof poured himself a cup of coffee. ‘I’ve been here less than two full days, Freddie, and already I’ve had one accident, in a torture chamber, plus a lucky escape from another, in a steeplechase, wearing a dead man’s shoes. I’ve been watched through a window from outside in the dark and spied on from another window in daylight through binoculars. I’ve been in a room with a woman who seemed to disappear by leaving without opening doors and I’ve had to open a safe by solving a conundrum about Harry Houdini. One member of the family has also accused me of coming here for the sole purpose of proving that one of them is a murderer and, to cap it all, one of them has accused me of talking to myself!’
‘Hang on, Giles! That’s hardly a surprise! You’re always doing that!’
‘Okay, trust you to point that out! But what I’m trying to say is.! It’s been all go since the moment I got here. Never a dull moment!’
‘What we need to do is collaborate! Join forces, and talk things over.’
‘Good! After breakfast I’ll show you the library. That’s where the fatal accident took place. I’ll go over everything I know about what happened fourteen years ago on Hallowe’en and where everyone was at the time of the shooting. With your help we can try and assess which of this lot had opportunity and perhaps things will become a little clearer. Who knows?’
‘Two heads are better than one, as they say!’
The Prof forked the remainder of his sausage, bacon and egg into his mouth and swallowed it down with a gulp of coffee. As he pushed his empty plate to one side the dining room door burst open and, framed in the doorway, stood Laura in a pale nightdress. She was terrified out of her wits, took two steps into the room and, trembling with fear, announced, ‘I think I’ve just seen Daddy! He was in my bedroom, and.. .and.. .he’s left his shoes there!’
‘But he’s dead, Laura!’ Giles said softly as she collapsed in his arms.
‘You really are in it up to here, old son!’ muttered a bewildered Freddie putting a hand up to his chin. ‘And in "de
ad man’s shoes” to boot, if you’ll pardon the expression!’
Chapter 9
THE CAT O’ NINE “TALES”
Mrs. Gardner had been at work again, for the library curtains, that had been closed when The Prof had passed the windows on his way to ride one of the hunters, were now open and the pale afternoon sunlight filtered in. Shadows were already beginning to form as Giles rearranged the two leather armchairs and looked forward to the first real opportunity, since their meeting in London, for a one-to-one session with Freddie.
Freddie, who had been wandering about the library studying the layout and spending considerable time looking at the portrait of the Spanish Dancer, the poster of Chung Ling Soo and the Japanese screen, finally scrutinised the fireplace and the safe that was securely built into it.
‘Everything in here is not what it seems!’ he said, as he settled into one of the chairs. ‘The whole place oozes mystery!’
‘Is that so? Go on, Freddie. Why stop there?’
‘Oh, yes! It has all the trappings of a theatrical set. A set designed to misdirect an audience and lure the unsuspecting onlooker into a false sense of security.’
‘Them’s my sentiments, old son! But let’s have your thoughts. Anything in particular?’
Freddie got to his feet and, making pretence at fingering an imaginary barrister’s gown, looked around before addressing a nonexistent jury.
‘I get a very strong impression,’ he said, throwing an outstretched arm at the walls that displayed the artwork of Spanish Dancer and Chinese Magician, ‘that what we have here are articles intended, by design, to catch the eye; to capture and hold everyone’s attention and so allow other apparently insignificant articles to escape notice. In other words, the Magician’s Art of Deception and Misdirection!’
‘For instance?’ The wicked cunning in The Prof’s voice was all Freddie required to cajole him to taking centre stage.
‘I repeat. Everything is not what it seems! Take the two pictures! Firstly we have a Chinese magician who wasn’t!’
‘Come, come, Freddie! You must be careful what you say. Inaccuracies will not be tolerated. After all, he was a magician!’
‘Yes! But not Chinese!’
‘I grant you that! We both know that Robinson was his real name. But you were going to mention the other picture as well! What can you find wrong with that?’
‘For the very good reason that it is a painting of a Spanish dancer who looks uncannily like...! But isn’t!’
‘What can you possibly mean by that?’ The tongue-in-cheek tone taunted a frowning Freddie.
‘Because, apart from the colour of her hair, she looks like Laura! It’s meant to be Laura! Isn’t it? Or a dead ringer!’
‘A ringer! That’s true - but not dead!’
‘So she looks like Laura, but isn’t! That’s what was puzzling me! The painting looks older than the lady in the portrait. Unless...!’
‘Unless, what, Freddie? And you’re absolutely correct! It isn’t Laura! And it isn’t meant to be Laura!’
‘Damn! Of course! Damn, damn, damn!’
‘A mild enough expletive for a Sunday, I’d say,’ said a smiling Professor, enjoying his companion’s annoyance, ‘but I would’ve expected a little more self-control from you under the circumstances!’
‘No, no, Giles! You’ve got it all wrong! I wasn’t swearing! It may have sounded like I was swearing just as the painting looked like Laura. I was convinced the painting had been done many years ago, probably before the war when Laura was a little girl, or even before she was born. I couldn’t grasp how any artist could produce such a likeness without prior knowledge of how she would be as an adult when it suddenly became as clear as the nose on your face!’
‘Thank you very much!’
‘You’re welcome! You see I wasn’t saying damn, as in swearing, but D-A-M as in the mother of this particular filly! The painting is of Laura’s mother! I was jumping to conclusions. A dangerous thing to do as I explained before. You see, everything is not what it seems!’
‘You worked that out all by yourself. What a clever fellow you are, Freddie!’
‘Getting back to Laura. Is she all right after her appearance as Lady Macbeth in the dining room, when she all but frightened the living daylights out of us?’
‘Yes! I spoke to Mrs. Gardner a short time ago. She put her back to bed after her collapse. It seems she was hallucinating; about the shoes, I mean, and seeing her father. When I got back to my room I checked and found the shoes were still there.’
‘There you are then!’
‘Could be! The strange thing is...the shoes appear to have been moved!’
‘Or maybe, Giles, you don’t remember exactly where you left them!’
‘Referring to “The absent-minded professor” syndrome are we? But have you ever considered how convenient that can be when dealing with people reluctant to talk frankly in your presence?’
‘Like someone pretending to be deaf when, all the time, they can hear what is going on?’
‘Or actually being deaf yet, at the same time, being a proficient lip-reader! I know someone like that and she can come up with a wealth of information when those around are lured into that false sense of security you were talking about.’
‘Hold on a minute, Giles. Your interesting anecdote is food for thought. It brings me back to Laura, her accident and the sleepwalking act she gave this morning. Could it just be possible that Laura has been luring you into a false sense of security?’
‘Surely that’s a bit far-fetched? I’m not sure I see what you’re driving at.’
‘Well! Let’s see. She’s a very clever horsewoman. She could have contrived to cause her own fall from the horse this morning. After all, she was preparing Delilah that you thought you were going to ride until the change of plan. And who changed the plan? Laura! That’s who!’ Freddie was warming to his theory. ‘Laura could have faked injury! Didn’t the doctor confirm that she wasn’t seriously hurt? She could have faked the sleepwalking. Maybe she didn’t swallow the pills the doc gave her! Her story about the shoes could have been a complete fabrication!’
‘But why, Freddie, why would she go to such lengths when it was she who brought me out here, in the first place, to solve what she believed was her father’s murder?’
‘Is it possible that she is not only a clever horsewoman but also a clever murderer? She could have brought you here making you believe that she wanted you to solve a murder then set about creating an atmosphere, for your benefit, that would show her to be the least likely suspect and convince you that it hadn’t been murder after all.’
‘But why would she do that?’ Exasperation was beginning to show in his voice as Giles introduced his nervous cough. ‘Face facts, Freddie! If Laura had committed murder why couldn’t she just have left things as they were? Bringing me back here could be disturbing a hornet’s nest!’
‘For the very good reason, Giles, that someone in the house suspects her and she wants it to be known that she is the one who wants the whole thing solved and that might let her off the hook. She brings you here and, after a full investigation, you prove there was no murder and she is left in the clear!’
‘Do you honestly believe that?’
‘No! Not entirely! But you must admit it is a possibility and something to be considered!’
‘Yes! I’ll go along with that. It is a possibility and something to be considered. But it is nothing more than that. If Laura brought me here to prove that no murder was committed I fear she is going to be disappointed!’
‘Why, Giles? Has the little lady rattled your cage?’
The Prof was on the verge of shouting and Freddie waited for the reply to his verbal baiting.
‘Why, you ask! For the simple reason that I cannot,’ Giles said, banging a fist on to the table, ‘and will not prove that no murder was done, because I believe that murder did take place fourteen years ago in this very place. A murder so evil and so cunningly premeditated tha
t it defies comprehension. And,’ his words spoken now with quiet strength, ‘by God, I will not rest until I have unmasked whoever is responsible!’
The two men sat for a moment, intently watching each other, as those words seemed to reverberate around the silent walls.
‘When you declared that all is not what it seems,’ said a now more composed Professor, ‘were you referring only to the pictures? Or are there other things in the room that puzzle you?’
‘Oh, yes! But before we leave the pictures let us not forget that, in each one, there is an instrument of death! A rifle in one and a dagger in the other! I’m also curious about the Japanese screen, the fireplace and the safe!’
‘I’m certain the screen was not just meant to hide the safe from view. It’s much too large for that and obscures a perfect fireplace. I would think it has to have been part of the props for Jack’s last performance and was intended to be used to hide someone or something between screen and safe!’
‘But why the safe? It’s in a perfectly obvious position. Screening it off would be an irrelevancy, wouldn’t it?’
‘We’ll be better able to answer that when we know why Jack went to Boston. Or, more likely, what he found when he was there!’
‘I’m afraid you’re losing me again, Giles! What’s all this about Boston? You mentioned the place last night in that word association game. Don’t you think you should put all your cards on the table?’
‘Yes, I believe it is now time to tell you all that I know of the events of that last night in Mr. Jack Ramsden’s life, just as Mrs. Isabella Ramsden confided to me. Boston will then become self evident when I tell you about the contents of the safe. After that we can begin to assess the role each and everyone played in the game of Murder. Except that it was no game!’
Dark clouds had gathered and the light, coming through the library windows, had changed from pale sunlight to moody shadows during the time The Prof told Freddie about the contents of the safe and everything Isabella Ramsden had related about what took place on Allhallows’ Eve fourteen years ago.
The Statue of Three Lies Page 11