The Cinderella Murders

by David Cargill

  The master magician, Giles, although watching closely, could barely see the small gun being produced by Cindy. The gunshot came almost seconds before the gun was apparent in Cindy’s hand. The loud bang had a startling effect and Cyril, clutching his chest and with his eyes flashing disbelief and overpowering terror, slowly fell to the floor in such a way that astonished the watching group.

  Dicky knelt down to help his brother following the stage directions to perfection while the Brigadier and Grizelda entered down left.

  Both playwrights rose and clapped with sheer delight shouting ‘Encore’ in unison. ‘At long last we achieved a death scene to be proud of,’ Walter exclaimed. ‘Well done you two.’

  The cast joined in the applause, expecting the brothers to leap up in delight at such an enthusiastic reaction. But Dicky made no response. Cyril remained immobile on the stage. Dicky raised Cyril’s head, fumbled at his chest and suddenly cried out in anguish. ‘He’s dead! My brother’s dead! He’s been shot. He got to his feet, rigid with fear and anger, pointing, his hand smeared with blood, at Cindy. ‘She killed him! She murdered him!’

  Cindy stood motionless as the small gun fell from her hand.

  Giles moved towards the body but Dicky forestalled him. ‘Nobody goes near my brother. Nobody!’ He stood glaring at petrified. Cindy, The malevolence in Dicky’s eyes was undisguised as he pointed a finger at her. ‘You!’ he said. ‘For shooting my brother, I hope you rot in jail for the rest of your life.’

  ‘I didn’t kill him,’ Cindy said. ‘I didn’t shoot him. You must believe me, I didn’t! I couldn’t. The gun wasn’t loaded.’ Her voice was soft, trembling.

  ‘Well somebody did. And there’s little doubt who did,’ said Dicky.

  ‘Don’t touch anything!’ said Giles, taking the initiative. ‘Laura, dash downstairs and get the doorman to make a 999 call for the police and an ambulance. While you’re down there get something to cover the body. It must be left where it is until the police arrive. And nobody must move or even touch the gun. The police will want to examine the firearm. Until they arrive I think you should all go to the Green Room.’

  Laura appeared with a discarded piece of sacking to cover the body. ‘The doorman has phoned for an ambulance and the police,’ she said. ‘He just told them that a shooting had taken place in the Theatre Royal.’

  ‘Let me cover my brother,’ Dicky said, snatching the covering from Laura. He bent down and slowly, with meticulous care, draped the sacking over the body.

  ‘I’m afraid this damnable incident means that our play will never have a dress rehearsal, never mind an opening night.’ Walter said, the rancour in his tone of voice blatantly obvious. The whole cast let out a gasp of horror at such insensitivity and Walter had the grace to flush.

  ‘How the hell can this have happened?’ muttered Mark. ‘Can this bloody curse ever leave me alone? Did you check the gun to make sure it was the right one Cindy? The one that fired blanks?’

  ‘I didn’t think I needed to check. It seemed to be the same gun I’ve always been using in rehearsals.’ She bit her lip and her breathing increased at a rate of knots. She hesitated, collecting her thoughts. ‘Anyway,’ she said, ‘I never pulled the trigger. I swear I didn’t.’

  ‘Be careful what you’re saying, young lady. We all heard the shot. The bang was as loud as anything the compressor in the basement could achieve.’ Giles’ warning was met with a murmur of sympathetic approval by the cast. ‘I think it’s time we all retired to the Green Room and stay there until the police arrive. They’ll want to question all of us before they can start a proper investigation.’

  The Green Room is normally the place in a theatre where the actors congregate while waiting to go on stage. The term Green Room may have come from original waiting spaces which were painted green but the walls were now a muddy dusty yellow. Whatever its history the group now waiting in the room was not keyed up waiting to go on stage. There was a sombre attitude in the place as they awaited the inevitable arrival of the police.

  ‘Not another one of your locked room murders then, Giles,’ said Walter, attempting to break the ice in a room that had somehow gone quite cold. ‘Something I was told you were successful at, but on this occasion the evidence was there for everyone to see.’

  This arrogant and conceited little upstart was so irritating that Giles felt reluctant to reply. He paused as if something was somehow out of kilter. ‘You may well be right in your assumption,’ Giles said. ‘It wasn’t a hermetically sealed chamber that tonight’s incident happened in, I grant you that. But I suppose that as everyone was somewhere on the stage and viewed by those watching from the auditorium it could almost be considered as a locked room.’ He faltered for a few seconds. ‘But something baffles me,’ he said. ‘I can’t quite place it but something is radically wrong.’

  ‘You’re not going to tell us it was all another one of your illusions are you?’ said Grant, who was playing the Brigadier, ‘and we can all laugh and get on with rehearsals as if nothing happened. Is that what you’re about to say?’

  There wasn’t time for Giles to reply as a loud knock on the door was followed by the entry of a police constable. ‘Beat Constable Jenkins,’ a tall fresh-faced man introduced himself with an air of competence. ’We had a call from this theatre,’ he said. ‘I understand there’s been a shooting in the theatre and I’ve been sent to look around and find out exactly what happened.’

  ‘That’s right,’ Giles said, as he stepped forward to shake the beat constable’s hand.

  ‘And who may you be, sir?’ questioned the constable.

  ‘Dawson! Giles Dawson.’

  ‘Where exactly did the shooting take place?’

  ‘On the stage during a rehearsal and I’m afraid the accident has resulted in a man being killed.’

  ‘Is the body still on the stage?’

  ‘Yes. Nothing has been touched.’

  ‘Well sir, in a case where there’s a possibility of a murder being committed I have to get in touch with CID at the Loreburn Street Police Station. This won’t take very long.’

  The constable left the room and went to the stage door, gave a nod to the door man and reached for the phone. A few seconds later he put the phone down and went back to the Green Room.

  ‘A couple of detectives will be here in a jiffy,’ he said to Giles. ‘We happen to be the smallest police force in the country but I’m sure you’ll find our detectives up to the mark. I’ll wait until they arrive as I’d like to watch them at work if they don’t mind.’

  ‘No problem!’ said Giles. ‘We’re certainly not sure whether it was accidental death or murder but the CID are the best people to be involved.’

  ‘Who was killed?’ asked the constable, removing a notebook and pencil from his pocket, ‘and was anyone else hurt? It is quite important that everything I take down corresponds with the details that are given to the detectives when they arrive.’

  ‘One of the young actors by the name of Russell Kelly.’

  ‘Can you tell me what he was doing when he was shot?’

  ‘He was rehearsing a scene from a play and was meant to be shot… but by a gun firing blanks.’

  ‘That sounds very bizarre Mr Dawson. Can you…’

  A sharp knock on the door brought everything to a halt.

  Two plain clothes men entered the Green Room. ‘Detective Sergeant Miller,’ said a man in his early forties, giving Giles a puzzled look as if recognising a face, and this is Detective Constable Watson, he said. We’re from the Dumfries CID and are answering a call received a short time ago. I understand there has been an accidental shooting in the theatre.’

  ‘Haven’t we met before?’ said Giles, a little smile of recognition lighting up his features. ‘Could you possibly be John Miller I used to know at the Academy?’

  ‘Of course! I thought you looked familiar. But that was more than twenty years ago.’

  ‘It certainly was. How the years have moved on. We must catch up lat
er, but first I’ll fill you in. You certainly didn’t waste your time getting here.’

  ‘Any report of a shooting demands an immediate response. What exactly happened?’

  ‘The shooting took place a short time ago during a rehearsal and I’m afraid it proved fatal,’ said Giles.

  ‘Where did it take place?’

  ‘On the stage. I warned everybody not to touch the body. The gun that was used is still where it fell.’

  ‘Good man. We’ll take a look and I want everyone to stay here for questioning. No one missing I assume?’

  Giles shook his head. ‘Apart, that is from a member of the Guild and the doorman, we were the only ones in the building.’

  ‘It was you who phoned CID, Constable Jenkins, wasn’t it? Will you stay a moment in case I need your help?’

  The beat constable smiled in acknowledgement as he and the detectives left the room.

  When they’d gone Giles cautioned those in the room that they might have to wait a considerable length of time before the police returned as their investigations might be long drawn.

  He was wrong. And wrong by a wide margin. The three men were back within five minutes. ‘Is this a joke?’ DS Miller asked. ‘We occasionally get the odd hoax call but a shooting in this great theatre is one we’d never consider getting as a hoax,’ he smiled and shook his head. ‘The Guild of Players has transformed this place and is not averse to performing a murder mystery but never one such as this.’

  ‘Our call was no joke,’ said Giles. ‘It was deadly serious, if you’ll pardon the expression. What have you seen that could possibly make you think you’ve been hoaxed?’

  ‘It’s not what we saw but what we didn’t see,’ Detective Sergeant Miller said. ‘We saw a gun. We saw what looked like sacking, but one thing we didn’t see was a body… and no blood! Can you explain that?’

  ‘I’m afraid I can’t,’ Giles said, rubbing his chin and looking perplexed. ‘I doubt if any of us can. We all heard the shot and though it was difficult to be aware of the sudden appearance of the gun it was clearly visible when the actor fell. The gun was untouched on the stage floor. I made sure of that.’

  ‘Oh the gun was still there on the stage. Presumably where it fell,’ the Detective Sergeant said, ‘but who was the person holding the gun before it fell?’

  ‘It was me,’ Cindy said, coming forward. ‘I had the gun in my hand but I didn’t fire that gun.’

  ‘Fired by remote control.’ Walter Bradley said in a jocular manner.

  ‘And who are you, sir, may I ask?’ DS Miller said, giving the playwright a disdainful look.

  ‘I’m one of the authors of this particular play. Walter Bradley is my name.’

  ‘Thank you Mr Bradley, but I don’t think you should joke about the shooting of the gun,’ said DS Miller, rebuking him. Briskly he turned his attention back to Cindy and asked her name.

  ‘Marlene, Marlene Finsbury,’ she answered. ‘I play the lead part of Cindy in the play. But I didn’t shoot him. You must believe me.’ Her voice went up several decibels, almost shouting in her panic.

  ‘That’s quite all right Miss Finsbury. I believe you.’

  ‘How can that possibly be?’ questioned Walter. ‘We saw the gun and we heard the shot and yet you believe what Miss Finsbury has just said?’

  ‘There is no doubt whatsoever,’ said the sergeant, ‘If indeed Mr Kelly was shot it certainly wasn’t with your stage gun. A cursory examination showed it is only capable of firing blanks. And moreover, the gun on the floor has not been fired today.’ The glare he gave Walter was contemptuous. ‘Does that answer your question Mr Bradley?’

  ‘It will certainly have to do,’ said Walter. ‘but that doesn’t explain the shooting. A gun was fired. Of that there seems no doubt.’

  As DS Miller continued his interrogation his assistant detective took notes.

  ‘Hmm! Who examined the body?’

  ‘I did,’ said the twin brother of the dead man.

  ‘And you are, sir?’

  ‘My name is Malcolm Kelly.’

  ‘And you examined the body? Why did you do that, Mr Kelly?’

  ‘It was a stage direction as laid down in the script. That’s what I had to do when the gun went off. I wasn’t aware that a real bullet had been fired until I knelt down beside my brother.’

  ‘You thought he was dead?’

  ‘Yes! I knew he was dead. You can’t fake death.’

  ‘Is it possible he was only wounded? That could easily explain the disappearance of the body. If he’d been wounded he might have lost consciousness and then recovered and wandered away. Strange things can happen when someone is wounded – they can fall unconscious then recover and lose their bearings.’

  ‘I only wish you were right Sergeant Miller, but I was convinced my brother was dead.’

  DS Miller had a quiet word with the other detective and scrutinised the notes before resuming his questioning. ‘Are you all sure there was the sound of a gunshot?’ he asked, looking around the room at the faces that were showing disbelief at the question. ‘I know this theatre quite well,’ he said, a half smile etching his lips, ‘and I believe there is a compressor that can sometimes go off with a loud bang. Is it not possible that this might have happened at the same time that Miss…?’ he checked with his Detective Constable before continuing, ‘… at the same time that Miss Finsbury had to produce the gun? Hard to believe, I know but not entirely out of the question.’

  It was Giles who answered. ‘It would certainly be an extraordinary co-incidence and not impossible but we’ve all become familiar with the bang when the compressor goes off and the sound we all heard was the sound of a gun being fired. No doubt about that. No doubt whatsoever!’

  ‘Thanks Giles. That gives us something to work on. But if it was the sound of a shot being fired it must have come from somewhere in the theatre and by…! Can I have a quiet word with you Giles while my squad take the names of everyone who was present when the shot occurred?’

  ‘By all means,’ Giles said as he guided the detective to a vacant corner of the room.

  Detective Sergeant Miller was now looking decidedly serious. ‘Do you see what I’m getting at, Giles?’ he said softly. ‘If the allegation is correct and a gun was fired, whether it killed Mr Kelly’s twin brother or not, it had to be fired by someone in this room.’

  ‘And that, I suppose, means I would be a suspect and so would my fiancée?’

  ‘I’m afraid so. And she’s here in this room?’

  ‘Yes.’ Giles said, pointing her out to the detective.

  ‘I take it the doorman wasn’t on the stage?’

  ‘No,’ said Giles. ‘Neither was the only other person in the building – a member of the Guild of Players who was helping us. I believe they were both at the stage door.’

  ‘The lighting. Was it good at all times?’ asked the detective. ‘No possibility of anyone hiding?’

  ‘None. Everyone was clearly in view. No one could have gained access without being seen by the doorman. The theatre is closed at present and all exits and entrances are locked at all times.’

  ‘This actress, Marlene. Possible she held any grudges against the victim?’

  ‘Are you implying that she may have had a second weapon which she used but only dropped the one that fired blanks in order to give herself a cast iron alibi?’

  ‘Got it in one, Giles. You could easily have been a first class detective. What line of business are you in, by the way?’

  ‘The magic business,’ said Giles. ‘That’s stage magic, of course, nothing to do with occultism or witchcraft. I’m a historian of the great stage illusionists.’

  ‘Wait a moment, Giles. You don’t happen to be the Professor Dawson who recently captivated lots of people in the newspapers by any chance, the guy who’s been solving certain locked-room mysteries?’

  ‘Now you’ve got it in one, John.’

  ‘So I was right. You really are a first class detective. Well in
that case we can work together and you may be interested to know that it means you won’t be considered as one of the suspects. Glad to have you on board.’ The sergeant laughed heartily to show how ludicrous the suggestion was as he shook hands with Giles.

  Both men returned to face the rest in the room. The DS went over to his fellow detectives while Giles joined Laura and Freddie.

  ‘It’s vitally important that everyone remains here in the theatre,’ said the DS. ‘Do not move from this room. We’ll search the building in case the missing actor has stumbled and fallen unconscious. I’ll have CID officers go to the local hospital to see if an injured man has reported there. Dead or alive he must be somewhere. Despite the historical tales that are renowned about this theatre the twin brother of Malcolm Kelly can’t just have been spirited away. Or could he? And why?’ The detective turned to Giles with a smile. ‘One of your locked room mysteries then Giles?’

  The DS pondered for a moment, a worried frown on his forehead. Giles could see the sudden change and the dilemma the detective was in regarding what he’d just said. It was as if he’d realised the most powerful words are those left unsaid.

  ‘You’ll have to excuse me,’ the senior detective said, barely suppressing a look of uneasiness, ‘if the body has somehow been spirited away this Theatre Royal will have earned its reputation of being Mostly Ghostly.’

  Chapter 13

  NO CASE TO ANSWER

  ‘Check with the stage doorman, Giles,’ Detective Sergeant Miller said. ‘Just make sure no one could have left the building by the stage door or by any other means. I want Constable Jenkins to stay with me and DC Watson and we’ll make a search of the theatre to see whether any person could be hiding.’

  ‘Are the ambulance men still in the building?’

  ‘Yes Giles, I instructed them to stay until we could sort out the disappearance of the reported body. The ambulance crew were keen to get back on duty but I insisted that they stay in case the call was genuine and not one of those hoax calls we occasionally get.’

  ‘You get hoax calls?’