When he put the phone down he fixed himself another drink and settled back to mull over his imminent visit to the Athens of America.
The week before leaving for the States The Prof made three important phone calls. The first was to the Boston number when he again talked to Jennifer Berkeley confirming he would be travelling on Tuesday 22nd November on the evening flight from London, Heathrow. The second call was to the “Bulldog” in Dumfries to thank him and make clear that all was set for his few days on the other side of “the pond".
His third call was to Freddie to arrange a get-together before he left in order to exchange ideas and compare notes. It was at that meeting that his friend had disclosed everything Drummond had said about the Boston Professor, regarding the unmistakable identity of Alan Berkeley, that had caused him to display the chuckling outburst. His final statement being, “ The Prof’s love affair with Hollywood movies would be all he required!"
From his window seat Giles watched the twinkling lights of Boston as the evening flight, from Heathrow Airport, approached the Massachusetts coastline. It was late afternoon on this side of the Atlantic and he sat, lost in thoughts, paying little or no attention to the announcements being relayed to passengers as the Boeing-707 descended and prepared to land at Logan International Airport.
Internationally accepted as the “Athens of America", Boston was a part of the United States he had not visited before and he had a strong gut feeling that perhaps the next few days would provide many answers that might reduce the complexity of the mystery back in Scotland. The first puzzle though was to recognise his host, from the description given by the “Bulldog", who had arranged the visit.
When the aircraft taxied and finally came to a halt, passengers around him rose from neighbouring seats and collected hand luggage. Giles, despite strenuous efforts to gain a vertical position, discovered, with a quickening heartbeat and a cold sweat on his forehead, a complete inability to rise.
He immediately put it down to a combination of flight inertia and the onset of cardiac arrest - until being told he’d forgotten to unfasten his seat belt. He looked at other passengers in a suitably embarrassed manner but nobody seemed to have taken a blind bit of notice of his temporary predicament.
Having retrieved his bags and negotiated passport control Giles scanned the faces waiting for visitors in the main concourse wondering what he would do if his host didn’t show up displaying some form of identity. His concern was unfounded as he recalled the words of “Bulldog” relayed to him by Freddie, “Just remember,” he’d said, “if you are half the movie buff I believe you are, it will be entirely unnecessary to add the tweed clothes and deerstalker hat in order to pick out this Professor of Criminology!"
Undeniably prophetic words as it was about to turn out; for Giles, with outstretched hand in readiness to greet an icon of the cinema, was already approaching the tall lean gentleman in the navy overcoat, black Homburg and red and white candy-striped bow tie who was carrying a walking cane that could have doubled as a swordstick. With his aquiline features he was the definitive Sherlock Holmes, Basil Rathbone or a very impressive facsimile of the great actor.
‘Professor Berkeley, I presume?’
‘Giles Dawson, if I’m not mistaken! At your service, Sir. Welcome to Boston!’
The handshake was firm and friendly and Giles was instantly aware that his few days in this New England city could well prove to be a rewarding experience.
Logan International Airport, 3 miles from Downtown Boston, is closer to town than any other major airport in the States and yet Professor Berkeley, driving his old but well-preserved Cadillac, still took a little longer to travel the short distance than the mileage suggested, despite avoiding the traffic jams at the tunnel and deciding, instead, to use the bridge. Nevertheless this delay allowed the two men to become better acquainted.
‘We’re heading for the Back Bay area of the city,’ A.B. exclaimed as he swerved to avoid a taxicab ‘and Jenny will be cooking up something to eat when we get there. After that you can put me in the picture regarding this problem of yours and we can take it from there!’
‘Having twice spoken to your wife on the phone, I’m really looking forward to meeting her, but I hope you can assure me she does not resemble Dr. Watson!’ Giles said, tongue-in-cheek.
‘Not in the slightest!’ A.B. replied chuckling. ‘But I know what you’re thinking of - that’s “Bulldog” for you! He’s quite a guy...and a damn good cop!’ he said renewing his chuckle as he negotiated traffic. ‘Did you have a good flight?’
‘Yes! As a matter of fact I did. The weather was fine and we were up to time!’
‘I have news for you! The forecast is for dry weather and sunshine for the next few days and our city is just made for walking so wherever you want to go it will be very pleasant for you.’
‘There are several places I need to visit and the first of those is your library.’
‘You’re in luck again! We’re only a few blocks away from the Boston Public Library and you can go there first thing in the morning. I’ll fix you up with a map and you’ll find the staff very helpful. On Thursday I’ll take you over to Harvard and let you see where I expound my theories to unsuspecting law students; Thanksgiving Day is a public holiday so we’ll have the run of the place. In the evening we’ll have the traditional dinner and drinks and take an inventory of the progress you’ve made up till then.’
‘Sounds fine by me!’
’Hold on - we’re almost there!’
The car turned into a wide avenue of beautiful town houses split by a tree-lined central mall.
A.B. parked and, as both men got out, he announced, ‘Here we are! This is Commonwealth Avenue and that name ought to make you feel quite at home! Let’s go in and meet Jenny!’
The cool night air smelled good, with the trees in the centre of the mall adding their own quality to the evening freshness and, as Giles stepped across the broad sidewalk towards the front door, he believed this journey of discovery would reveal answers to the many questions that eventually ought to unmask a fiend still cloaked in respectability.
Inside, the house was spotless and friendly and smelled of fresh polish; the radio was on and Sinatra’s “Fly Me to the Moon” filtered through to the hallway as A.B. placed his hat and cane in the stand, removed his overcoat and slammed the front door.
‘Is that you, Alan?’ The voice The Prof had heard twice on the phone now reached his ears from a much shorter distance.
Before her husband could answer she appeared from an open doorway. She wore a dark blue skirt and pale blue blouse; dark stockings with shoes to match her skirt, a skirt that was covered at the front with an apron imprinted with the stars and stripes. Her hair was dark-honey in colour and her eyes were jade green. She held out a small hand on a slim wrist and she smiled a smile that lit up her face and would surely capture the attention of any jury in the land.
‘It’s so good to meet the owner of the voice that offered me transatlantic heavy breathing by cable!’
‘My pleasure, entirely!’ Giles said as he held the proffered hand.
‘How do you like your steaks done, Giles?’ she said and, like jesting Pilate, the Roman Procurator, didn’t wait for an answer.
A.B. shook his head and smiled, ‘We’ll go and see how she’s getting on!’ he said.
‘You are a busy couple,’ Giles remarked, grabbing the American by the arm. ‘How do you manage to hold down two important and onerous jobs, yet find the time to run a home and accept a stranger with more problems?’
‘The two of us become three most days - when Millie comes in and “does” for us. She’ll prepare Thanksgiving Dinner on Thursday you’ll meet her then! As for you, just let me say Jenny and I love a good mystery, especially one straight out of Ellery Queen, and the call from “Bulldog” more than hinted we might get that in abundance. Let battle commence, I say! Now I’ll fix us all a drink!’
After grilled steaks and cold beer the Harvard
Professor of Criminology and his Attorney wife kicked off their shoes and curled up on a couch in front of a roaring coal fire to listen to the History Professor of Magic and Illusion telling his story of events at Maskelyne Hall in faraway rural Scotland.
‘That’s quite a brief you have there!’ said Jennifer when it was finished. ‘Like something from an Ellery Queen mystery novel!’
‘Coincidence rearing the head again!’ The Prof commented excitedly. ‘Your husband mentioned Queen when we were hardly in the house tonight and I have a passion for coincidences!’
‘I reckon A.B. has a few strange stories you’ll enjoy, especially about some of our Presidents he uses in lectures over in Cambridge. That’s why he’s sometimes known as Abe in College.’
‘Yes! said the American with a nod. ‘I’ll be delighted to oblige, but that will keep till later. Here we definitely have a problem to solve - and that’s where we both come in. I think we can help! Firstly we’ll cover the motives for murder and see if any tie in with those on the list of suspects. Later on I’d like to take a look at the results of that word game you mentioned in your chronicle of events, but first things first!’
A.B. produced a memo pad and pen and started to jot down a few notes.
‘Murder in the United States,’ he said, continuing to write, ‘is classified by degree of seriousness; murder -1 being the most serious, though that is for the purpose of handing out a sentence once guilt has been established in a court of law.’
‘That’s all very well, Alan, but it doesn’t cut any ice for the victim - when murder can be deadly serious!’ Jennifer’s one-liner brought smiles all round.
She glanced over Abe’s shoulder as he continued to scribble, nodded and looked up at Giles.
‘What we’ll do, when Abe has completed his list of motives, is take each of your suspects and try to match them with four trump cards.
Motive, Opportunity, Capability to kill and Capability to commit this particular crime i.e. Method.’
A.B. passed the pad across to Giles who scanned down the list.
Motives for Murder
Money - financial gain
Power
Fear
To preserve status, position or rank
Revenge - a powerful motive for murder!
Religious belief
Anger
Vanity
Jealousy
Protection of someone you love
Protection of yourself
Principle
Retribution - for previous humiliation
To overcome a barrier to sexual happiness
To eliminate someone capable of identification
To stop someone talking and giving show away
Insanity
To kill - just for the hell of it!
With memo, pad, and pen at the ready, Alan Berkeley began by writing a name down.
‘Let’s go through your list of suspects, one by one, starting with the lady of the house, Mrs. Ramsden. If you spot a convincing motive I’ll make a note of it and we can see if any of the remaining trump cards match. That ought to produce something significant and, who knows, we might be able to reduce the list to a select few.’
‘Agreed!’
‘Here goes! Isabella Ramsden?’
‘How’s about Jealousy or Anger, if the rumour about her husband having an affair was correct?’
‘Okay, but it was only rumour, remember! Opportunity?’
’Fairly obvious, she being outside the door with the key, but improbable unless Edgar was in cahoots!’
‘Capable of murder?’
‘She can be a feisty lady but I doubt murder would be in her repertoire!’
‘Is she capable of killing the head of the family?’ ‘I would say not, but that might also apply to every one of our suspects!’
‘Victor next! Motive?’
‘Hmm! Difficult one this! Black sheep of the family and a disappointment to his father after his shenanigans at University and involvement in a marriage that was so ill conceived. To preserve status or even retribution for previous humiliation, but a question mark there!’
‘Opportunity?’
‘I can’t see how! He seems to have a cast iron alibi; he was in the lounge when it happened and that is corroborated by two others!’
‘Fine! Is he capable of killing?’
The Prof looked up from his list and thought for a moment before answering.
‘I knew him as a boy and he can be very belligerent. He hasn’t changed and, if I were pushed to answer, I’d say categorically that he’s capable of killing, but killing his father? I think there has to be a doubt about that!’
‘The four trump cards concerned with Victor are answered so we can move on to Laura. Before you comment please cast your mind back to those ancient Freudian riddles she sent you in her original letter. She had to be well aware of their significance suggesting a hermetically sealed chamber and, if she was privileged to have insider information about entry to the library but was then denied such entry by her father’s change of heart, for whatever reason, might that not have been why she decided to take a bath? On the other hand she may well have decided to go through with the illusion and kill - in Anger! What do you say?’
‘Although reluctant to admit it, I agree that could be a possible motive!’
‘Opportunity?’
’If she knew the secret way into the library she would obviously have had opportunity but, if she did enter, there appears to be no reason why anger should be her motive for murder because being in the room with her father suggests she was there with his approval. It just doesn’t make sense - there’s something we’re missing!’
‘Leave that for a moment, Giles, is she capable of killing?’
‘Laura is a beautiful woman who has demonstrated, in moments of stress, a fiery temper...!’
‘It goes with the red hair, Giles!’ said Jennifer with perfectly timed interruption. ‘But is she capable of murder?’
‘Maybe! He declared hesitantly. ‘But I doubt she could ever commit patricide!’
Jennifer Berkeley uncurled herself from the sofa; ‘I’m going to make some coffee!’ she said and went off to the kitchen.
The Harvard Criminologist put a little more coal on the fire, said, ‘I shan’t be a sec!’ and disappeared.
He returned with a stylish wooden box suitable for containing something larger than cigarettes, opened it and passed it across.
‘A little bird told me you might enjoy one of those, especially when you’re concerned. Care to join me?’
The Prof smiled and reached for one of the special Havana cigars.
‘Those are very hard to come by if the reports coming out of Cuba are anything to go by,’ he said rolling the cigar between his fingers before removing the band.
‘Yes, you’re quite correct; in fact they might be impossible to get shortly but I have a special contact who doesn’t often let me down.’Giles, noting the end had already been conveniently cut, put the cigar in his mouth and lit it with the monogrammed lighter offered him by his host.
Both men were lying back and blowing smoke into the air when Jennifer Berkeley returned with the coffee.
‘A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do!’ she drawled in Mae West fashion. ‘If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em!’ she said, reaching for the cigar box and lighting one of the Havana’s.
’Okay, guys - coffee break over - now where were we?’ A.B. said between puffs.
‘Three down, six to go, I think!’ said his wife.
‘Conrad is the next one to consider!’ said an extremely relaxed guest who was almost asleep.
‘Conrad it is then!’ said A.B. ‘Motive?’Giles pondered for a few seconds before answering.
‘Money! He and Mabel were a bit strapped for cash at that time and, by his own admission, the death of his father came as a kind of welcome relief.’
‘What about opportunity?’
‘They went for a walk, so they say
and, although they claim to have seen Victor in the lounge nobody saw them - or where they went to! They could’ve gone anywhere and done anything if they knew the secret of the priest-hole. The problem is did they know? There has to be a question mark against opportunity!’
‘What about capability to kill?’
‘Doubts on both counts! The stumbling block could be Conrad’s wife. If she remained with him she would be an accessory - and I have reservations about whether she has the stomach for a crime like this. One final thought; it’s questionable whether they had enough time to perpetrate the shooting and arrive on the scene for Mabel to collapse at the sight of blood!’
A.B. nodded as he completed his notes. ‘We can assess his wife, Mabel, now,’ he said taking another puff of the cigar. ‘Motive?’
‘Money, I suppose - same as Conrad! But not a very strong one! Her testimony mirrors that of her husband and any opportunity she had must surely be identical to his!’
‘That just leaves the capability factor. Have you anything to say on that?’
‘Speaking as a lawyer,’ Jennifer declared with some conviction. ‘Mabel doesn’t sound to me like a cold-blooded murderess or an accessory before and after the fact. She seems a sensitive human being who would abhor murder though still enjoying a good ghost story. But, in a way, so did Lady Macbeth - devoted to her husband and deciding the king must be removed for him to achieve the throne!’
‘Hmm! An interesting analogy!’ Giles said with a wry smile. ‘And well worth keeping in mind!’
’Edgar is the next one in the ball game.’ A.B. said, removing his bow tie. ‘Any motive you can think of?’
‘The only one that comes to mind,’ Giles said scanning the list of motives. ‘To get rid of the barrier to sexual happiness! He was intent on getting married and his father was set against this happening because of his youth. On the other hand Edgar was meaning to introduce Sally to his father at the birthday party after the illusion had ended and, if he had a motive for murder, wouldn’t you think it doubtful he’d introduce his intended bride to all the rest of the family as a prelude to showing her off to the king? After all Sally was only a fiancee and it might have been long enough before a wedding took place and Edgar much older by then! Anyway the old man might have been taken with the young woman - she was not unlike his own daughter!’
The Statue of Three Lies Page 21