The Statue of Three Lies

by David Cargill

  “Bulldog” threw the remains of his cheroot into the fire.

  ‘I intend going across to America in the very near future,’ The Prof said, by way of explanation. ‘I want to visit Boston, where Jack went some months before his death. There are some things I have to get clear in my own mind before I start to put the whole puzzle together.’

  ‘I may be able to help you there. I’ll confirm that before you leave here! To get back to the planned illusion that might just have gone wrong, doesn’t it hinge on this magician conceiving a secret means of entry into the library where another person could be concealed...perhaps more than one?’

  ‘Agreed!’

  ‘A kind of priest-hole?’

  Freddie, who’d remained silent throughout this two-way conversation turned to look at Giles.

  ‘I’m not sure I’m conversant with that term as a magician’s device. Would someone please explain?’ he said.

  ‘I do recall some history lectures using the term which had a religious connotation but I’ll leave the Super to bring us both up to date,’ The Prof added for good measure.

  ‘By all means!’ The Inspector agreed, heaving his bulky frame out of the chair to reach down and grab a poker with which to disturb the fire.

  ‘After the English Reformation, Roman Catholic priests and others attempting to flee from persecution often sought refuge in small secret holes or spaces created as hiding places in large English houses. Those hiding places were known as priest-holes! I hardly need to remind you of how little space is required to conceal a human being?’

  ’The secret of so many of the great illusionists!’ added The Prof respectfully.

  ‘Just so! Very little area is needed to conceal a human being...or an inhuman one, I might add!’ “Bulldog” paused before continuing. ‘Have you considered the use of the fireplace, behind the safe, as such a hiding place? A priest-hole with access being gained from, under the library via the cellar?’

  ‘Worth considering! Yes, definitely worth considering!’

  ‘There is one other way...! Simplest of all, and the way most of us overlook when attempting to outsmart the complexities of the professional magician!’

  ‘O.K. I’ll buy it!’

  ‘Entry by the library door! That would, of course, presume collaboration by the two people waiting outside. Far fetched? Maybe, but not entirely impossible...or is it?’

  ‘Food for thought!’ Giles assured the genial giant who rose when his wife entered the room carrying a tray.

  ‘A spot of afternoon tea, gentlemen?’ she said, handing the tray to her husband before placing a small coffee table in front of him.

  ‘Allow me to introduce you to my better half, though half is hardly what you get if you compare us by size!’ Drummond guffawed as he laid the tray on the table. ‘Meet my wife, Anna! You know of Freddie and this is his friend Giles Dawson, a Professor of History, my dear. More than that he’s a professor of magic so don’t get too close or he may saw you in half!’

  ‘If that happened there would be even less of me for you to worry about, Martin!’ she said and gave a nod and a wink before leaving.

  Anna Drummond, in her late fifties, was petite beside her enormous husband but in the short time that she’d been in his presence, Giles was overwhelmed by her stature and regretted the brevity of their meeting.

  ‘Tuck in lads!’ “Bulldog” advised with enthusiasm. ‘And if you’ll excuse me for a couple of minutes I’ll go and see if there’s anything I can do.’

  When the ex-detective returned Freddie and Giles had demolished most of the buttered gingerbread, fruitcake and assortment of biscuits and cheese.

  ’It’s all set! I’ve been on the “blower” to Boston and managed to have a word with an old chum of mine before he went to work. If you decide to go to Boston give this guy a “buzz” beforehand. He and his wife will be glad to act as hosts and I’m positive you’ll be well rewarded. You see Alan Berkeley is also a Professor. He’s a Professor of Criminology at Harvard University and his wife Jennifer is a qualified criminal attorney!’

  “Bulldog” started shaking with infectious laughter as he gave more information about the Boston professor.

  ‘Some of the law students at Harvard claim they are on the ABC course; the Alan Berkeley Criminology course!’

  The laughter subsided as he passed over a folded piece of paper.

  ‘I’ve listed the phone number for you to give him a call, Giles. Alan will fill you in about essential details and when you decide to go he’ll meet you at the airport. He thought around “Thanksgiving” might be a good time. Oh, and when you meet him, you’ll get the shock of your life! I promise you! The shock of your life!’

  He broke off and whispered something in Freddie’s ear.

  ‘Yes! The shock of your life! You’ll recognize him the moment you clap eyes on him! Freddie will explain later!’

  Ex Superintendent “Bulldog” Drummond bubbled over with convulsive laughter. Everything about the man, from the moment they’d met, had reminded Giles of the great Sydney Greenstreet who, at the age of 61, played his first film role in The Maltese Falcon. He was still bubbling with laughter when the two men left in the Spitfire to return to Maskelyne Hall.

  Chapter 14

  TUNNEL OF WITCHCRAFT

  The daylight was fading fast when the red Spitfire crunched to a halt on the gravel path outside the Hall. The Prof dashed out, leaving Freddie to park the car round the back of the house, and immediately made a beeline towards the kitchen where he found Mrs. Gardner preparing ingredients for the evening meal.

  ‘Have they finished yet?’ he asked as he barged in.

  ‘Slow down, Giles!’ Doreen Gardner insisted with what closely resembled a scream as she brandished a large kitchen cleaver in his face. ‘Have who finished? And finished what, may I ask?’

  ‘I’m so sorry for rushing in like this!’ he said pushing the glistening blade gently to one side. ‘I should have explained! What I meant was have Laura and Sally finished working between the library and the cellar, you know, for tonight’s performance? I was hoping to pay a visit to the cellar; there’s something there I’d like to take a look at!’

  ‘The cellar, eh? Well why don’t you just try the door? I would’ve thought that was the easiest way to find out if they had finished!’ she said as she crashed the lethal weapon into the chopping board with a spine-chilling thump making The Prof jump backwards in tremulous fright.

  That settled it. He wasted no time in leaving cook to get on with her preparations for dinner and quietly closed the kitchen door.

  As soon as he tried the handle of the door leading to the cellar he knew he was in luck. It opened immediately and the lights had been left on. So, he thought, the girls were still paying visits.

  First examination revealed that the room was empty. He descended the steps and started to move along the assortment of magic props trying, as he went, to establish where the library fireplace was in relation to the cellar.

  Once he was reasonably satisfied it was obvious a pair of portable steps were needed if he was to get close enough to the ceiling for a proper inspection. He searched around the maze of objects and, after several minutes, found some ladders of varying sizes plus two sets of portable steps. He chose the set that appeared to suit his purpose and carried them over to the area he’d earmarked for examination.

  Once they were firmly in place he climbed upwards and started to scrutinise the ceiling above him. After shifting the steps a few times he was fairly content that there was no evidence of marks in the plaster conducive to the possibility of what jovial Super “Bulldog” Drummond had suggested. There was no way into the library from below, it seemed!

  ‘That puts paid to the priest-hole!’ he muttered bringing his head back to the vertical from the aching bent-back angle it had been in to gaze at the ceiling and, in the process, experiencing a touch of vertigo as he teetered on the top step.

  The voice that answered him almost broug
ht disaster as the steps rocked unsteadily and threatened to topple over.

  ‘What on earth are you up to now, Giles?’

  Unable to look down at the source of the question, The Prof clung desperately to the wooden sides until gaining confidence and virtually sliding down the steps to the ground where he began massaging his neck.

  ‘Oh, it’s you, Laura?’

  ‘Yes, it is! And I was asking what you were doing. I’m not too sure I want to know the answer to that if you don’t mind. You were talking to yourself again and, if you’ll pardon me saying so, you sounded quite irreverent!’

  ‘Aah! You mean the bit about the priest-hole?’

  ‘Please, Giles! Stop right there! I don’t want to hear any more!’

  ’Well if you really want to know I was getting a crick in my neck!’

  ‘If you ask me, this place down here doesn’t seem to be terribly good for your health! I’d try to avoid it in future if I were you! Now are you coming upstairs? We seem to be finished down here!’

  At the library door The Prof left Laura to complete her final planning in collaboration with Sally for the forthcoming birthday illusion then walked out of the house, by the front door, and headed for the stable yard at a brisk pace.

  To meet with and talk to George in his own environment, without the intimidation of the interior of Maskelyne Hall getting in the way, was too good an opportunity to miss.

  When the low tones of the little groom floated out on the night air, as he talked to one of his horses, they came as music to The Profs ears. His discreet cough signalled his presence.

  ‘That you, Giles? Come on in but mind your step! I’m just putting my babies to bed for the night!’

  ‘Sorry to disturb you, George, but I wanted a quiet word with you!’

  ‘That’s all right, lad. I’m just about finished with this one. Steady Sam, that’s a good boy! He’s been a right bugger today! Steady now! That’s better. Right then, what would you like to ask me, lad?’

  The Prof stepped nimbly out of the path of the restless hunter.

  ‘On this night, fourteen years ago, you were stationed outside the library windows when your employer made his final preparations for the birthday illusion, I believe?’

  ‘That’s correct!’

  ‘Did you see anyone during the time you were there?’

  ‘No! Not a single soul!’

  ‘That was very convenient for you?’

  ‘What are you driving at?’

  ‘Well didn’t that give you the opportunity to.?’

  ‘To what?’ The little groom, his jaw clenched tightly, removed his cap and scratched his head.

  ‘Why, to open the library windows, climb inside, grab hold of the rifle and shoot your employer, Jack Ramsden, in the chest!’

  The silence, followed by the spluttering and outpouring of disbelief from the small broad-shouldered man, lasted no more than a few seconds.

  ‘Bloody hell, you’ve got some imagination, I warrant you that! How the hell could I have done that when the windows were locked?’

  ‘Easy! Your good wife could’ve left the windows unlocked. One of them might even have been left open, behind the closed curtains!’

  ‘I don’t believe what I’m hearing, son! Anyway why would I want to do that? I had no reason to bring an end to Jack’s life!’

  ‘No! No, of course not! Unless.?’

  ‘Unless, what?’

  ‘Unless you were about to be given the sack! Were you about to be dismissed?’

  ‘Good God, no! Who gave you that idea?’

  At that same moment the edginess of the little groom and that of his partner, the massive Samson, subsided in unison.

  ‘Oh, now I can guess.! Victor!’ he asserted under his breath.

  ‘No smoke without fire, George! No smoke without fire! But whatever would prompt Victor to suggest that about you?’

  ‘I’d rather not say!’

  ‘I’d guess it would be in your own best interest, old fellow, but if you’d rather keep it to yourself.!’

  George Gardner licked his lips apprehensively and the muscles in his face showed the tension in his jawbone.

  ‘Victor was in one of his moody phases at that time. For some reason or other he imagined I was poking my nose in where I had no right. He found me checking those same library windows one night when Mr. Ramsden was working in secret with his assistant; that was before he had a barney with the girl and sent her packing. He all but accused me of playing Peeping Tom and threatened to tell his father and have Doreen and me as the next ones applying for a job. Victor wasn’t flavour-of-the-month at that time and was trying to curry favour with his father. It was then that a rumour started that Mr. Ramsden was having an affair with his assistant when she came to the house for rehearsals. I’m sure Victor was behind that as well. Anyway it all died down after his father died and he’s never been vindictive since then! Not that bad, anyway!’

  ’No comment! Except to say that I firmly believe everything you’ve said, old friend!’

  ‘So why the hell did you accuse me?’

  ‘I didn’t, George! I merely put the possibility forward in order to get your reaction and perhaps collate some information. I’m more than satisfied with what you’ve told me! A couple more questions before I leave you to finish in here. Before the shot was fired, that night, did you hear voices coming from inside the library?’

  ‘I heard Jack speak but couldn’t make out what he said. He was shouting some kind of warning - I’m sure of that!’

  ‘What did you do when the shot was fired?’

  ‘I ran towards the front door!’

  ‘Why? Why did you run?’

  ‘Because I knew something was wrong!’

  ‘Thanks, old fella! Will I see you at the birthday do?’

  ‘Yes, if I can get finished in here! How long have we got?’

  The Prof checked his watch.

  ‘About an hour and a half so I’ll let you get on with things in here!’

  As he turned away the little groom grabbed him by the arm and the muscles in his face relaxed as he looked up into The Profs eyes.

  ‘Thanks for the talk, lad!’

  On the way back to the big house The Prof went to the kitchen door and crept into cook’s domain to find Mrs. Gardner with her back to him. Reluctant to cause her a second shock of the evening he kept well back and cleared his throat. Without turning round she straightened up from her chopping board and sighed.

  ‘That you again, Giles? What is it this time?’

  ‘I dropped by to apologise for almost impaling myself on your machete earlier this evening!’

  Cook laid her knife down and slowly turned to face him.

  ‘You are forgiven but you came mighty close to giving me a heart attack, young man!’

  ‘Truce?’

  She nodded and picked up the knife again as he moved towards the door.

  ‘What are we having for dinner?’

  ’Isabella’s favourite! Jack’s as well, for that matter! Roast beef and Yorkshire pudding! She loves to have that on her birthday!’

  ‘I thought I recognised the smell, Doreen. Damn, that reminds me; how could I be so stupid...I’ve forgotten to bring her a present!’

  ‘Didn’t Laura tell you? Isabella asks for nothing apart from her annual illusion and her special dinner, with her family gathered around, to bring back memories of the old days.’

  ‘How is she? She didn’t seem too well this morning when you rushed Mabel away from me!’

  ‘She’s much better, I’m pleased to say, and should be able to enjoy her evening. Now, be off with you, or I shan’t enjoy mine! Oh, Giles!’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘The best present you could give her would be.!’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘...A solution to the puzzle that has troubled her for the past fourteen years! Can you oblige?’

  ‘Hmm! I’ll do my best!’ he said thoughtfully and departed.

  Hav
ing showered and changed The Prof went down to the lounge where Freddie was being entertained by most of the suspects he’d interviewed earlier that morning.

  Victor approached him with a crystal tumbler and a decorative square-shaped crystal decanter.

  ‘Is it a Scotch for you, Giles?’

  ‘Yes, thank you!’

  The Prof took the heavy glass and, as Victor poured a sizeable dram of whisky, became aware of the broad smirk on the eldest son’s face.

  ‘Your friend has been telling us that you visited a real-life investigator this afternoon!’ Victor announced, the smirk widening.

  ‘A crash course in detection, was it?’ Conrad continued with the ribbing.

  ‘You didn’t need to go all that way, Giles! If only you’d asked, we could have played a game of Cluedo!’ added Edgar, much to the amusement of the others.

  Mabel came across wearing a red dress and carrying a container of ice.

  ’Say when, Giles!’ she advised, helping him to a couple of cubes.

  ‘When!’

  ‘Edgar is spot on!’ she said. ‘A game of Cluedo might have revealed the murderer to be.!’

  She was not allowed to finish.

  ‘Professor Plum, eh Miss Scarlet? Wouldn’t it be a surprise if

  I.?’Giles raised his glass towards the lady sitting quietly by the fire.

  ‘I sincerely trust you are feeling better, Ma’am! I am delighted to drink to your good health! Happy birthday, Isabella!’The high-spirited hilarity died down and glasses were raised all round followed immediately by a chorus of “Happy birthday."

  As if on cue Mrs Gardner entered the lounge to let everyone know that Laura was ready to begin the first part of the programme to celebrate Isabella’s seventieth birthday.

  The illusion, to be performed in the library, would be followed, shortly afterwards, by dinner.

  George, who was waiting outside the library door like a genial commissionaire without the uniform, opened the door to allow everyone access.

  Inside Laura was standing in front of a long box-like structure on wheels that was open at both ends. The structure resembled an open gipsy caravan and the wheels allowed a complete view of everything underneath. The main lights in the room were switched off and the only illumination came from two standard lamps strategically placed and cleverly angled towards the front of the caravan.