As Laura switched off the ignition and got out of the car she looked at Freddie and smiled with that knowing look as much as to say he’s a dreamer but many of his dreams are meant to arrive at a particular solution.
Freddie gave a nod and a wink and his mouth broke into a huge smile as he whispered, ‘a detective with the skills of a magician.’ Raising his voice, ‘Laura,’ he said, ‘I think this calls for a large nightcap.’
A blazing fire and the smell of freshly percolated coffee greeted them as they entered the lounge. Gently Giles pressed Laura’s hand and they shared a private, intimate smile, the peaceful atmosphere of the beautiful room relaxing their tautened nerves. It was dark outside and the day in the Dumfries theatre had been a rather chilling one. The housekeeper as usual came up trumps when she gathered how Laura and her fiancé would be feeling after a tiring day even though on this occasion she had no idea just how extremely taut and nerve-wracking this particular day had been. Giles settled down on the couch and put his feet up on a stool. He loosened his tie and Freddie did likewise. Not a word was spoken and the two men, close friends since RAF conscription days, looked at each other waiting for the other to speak.
The room was quiet except for the soothing crackle of the burning logs. ‘Those poor people at the theatre, hope they’re comfortable enough,’ said Laura.
‘Theatre people are used to roughing it Laura. They have everything they could possibly need in the Green Room. No need to be concerned dear,’ said Giles.
Reassured, Laura busied herself at the tea trolley. About to pour coffee she hesitated. ‘Perhaps a stiff whisky would be more in order? What do you think gentlemen?’
‘Allow me,’ said Freddie jumping up. ‘You sit down Laura. Let me do the honours.’
Relaxing in the warmth and comfort of the fire they sat in companionable silence for a few moments, sipping their whisky.
‘Opportunity,’ said Giles suddenly. ‘It really isn’t absolutely vital to find a motive, is it? Much better to narrow things down. First of all, who had the opportunity? That’s the vital element in such a situation.’
‘And?’ asked Freddie giving Laura a wink.
‘Sometimes the simplest solution is often the one staring you right in the face,’ said Giles smiling benignly. ‘Let’s examine the facts. If we can place where everyone was situated when we all heard the shot we can then look at who had the opportunity.’
‘We can certainly help you, Giles.’ said Freddie. ‘since Laura and myself were with you in the front row of the auditorium along with the playwrights Mark and Walter we had a full view of Cindy, Cyril and Dicky.’
‘That’s right,’ said Laura, ‘though anyone could have been hiding in the space behind the stage sets such as the French windows, bookcase, fireplace and two doors, they might not have a clear view of all that was happening on stage.’
‘So on stage, in full view were the actors playing Cindy, Cyril and Dicky,’ said Giles. ‘They were clearly visible to us while the actress playing Grizelda and the actor playing the Brigadier, waiting to enter via the door to our right, could be seen ready to come on. But that leaves only one person we couldn’t see, the actress playing the Fairy Godmother.’
‘But surely, Giles,’ said Freddie. ‘if we’re looking for someone with opportunity everyone including Mark and Walter had opportunity. They weren’t far from the stage. So it’s conceivable that either could have fired the shot as they were the only ones not directly in our vision as we sat beside them. But as you say the only other person we couldn’t see was the Fairy Godmother. We really don’t know where she was.’
‘A possibility,’ said Giles, ‘although one would have surely been aware of any movement beside us.’
‘Does that mean we have to rule out the Fairy Godmother?’ asked Laura, joining in the discussion.
‘On the contrary,’ Giles said. ‘She could have used any of the furniture props to shield her from being seen. But I have to say not the obvious one to have opportunity. Remember what I said. Sometimes the simplest solution is the one staring you right in the face.’
‘Who then are the obvious ones, Giles?’ Freddie looked a little on edge as he posed the question. ‘Surely Cindy and Dicky are the most obvious. They were closest to the action and therefore had opportunity.’
‘Aren’t you forgetting the other obvious person?’ questioned Giles.
‘Who are you talking about?’
‘Why, Cyril himself!’
‘But we all saw the look of utter horror and disbelief on Cyril’s face before he slumped to the floor.’ Freddie took another sip of whisky. ‘He seemed totally devastated.’
‘That, I’m afraid, is called acting and the actor playing Cyril may well have been kidding us all when he gave his previous pathetic portrayals of someone being shot.’
‘I do see what you’re driving at,’ said Laura. ‘but why would Cyril want to shoot himself?’
‘You’re searching for the motive, my dear and I’m not interested in that at this stage. I only wish to narrow the suspects down to the ones with the best opportunity and although I’m not saying Cyril is the person who did the shooting he certainly had the opportunity to fire the gun. Why he would do such a thing is something that will require more thought.’
‘Does that really mean you’re narrowing the likely suspects down to the three who were on stage when the shooting occurred?’ questioned Freddie.
‘Well it may be best to forget the others at the moment and concentrate on the three who had a perfect opportunity,’ said Giles, as he took another sip from his glass and licked his lips.
‘But if it was Cyril who shot himself,’ said Freddie, the frown on his forehead deepening, ‘why didn’t he make a proper job of it and kill himself?’
‘You mean commit suicide?’
‘Yes. That’s exactly what I mean.’
‘But maybe he did make a proper job of it, Freddie. Maybe he only wanted to injure himself.’
‘But why on earth would he do that? It doesn’t make sense,’ said Laura.
‘Now you’re looking for a motive, Laura. All we’re looking for at this stage is to examine the bounds of possibility. And as it appears Cyril may only be wounded, if he fired the shot there may be several reasons why he didn’t shoot to kill himself. At this stage I’m not prepared to try and analyse possible reasons. Just look at the facts.’ Giles screwed up his blue eyes and tilted his head to one side. ‘When the shot was heard, Cindy had a gun in her hand which she then dropped on the floor. That gun had not been fired according to the police. Had Dicky fired the shot he would still have had the gun, unless he hid it under his brother’s body when he bent down to assist him. The one place a gun could easily have been hidden was under Cyril’s body. It could only have been discovered if the body had been removed by the ambulance men when they arrived. Remember Dicky wouldn’t allow the body to be touched initially, quickly covering it with the sacking. The body, as we know, disappeared and had the gun been there it would have disappeared with it.’
‘The whole shebang is full of imponderables, Giles,’ said Freddie looking totally bemused. From what you’re saying I doubt if we’ll ever get to the truth.’
‘Don’t be so despondent, Freddie,’ said Laura, throwing another log on the fire. ‘Giles will never give up. You can bet your bottom dollar on that.’
‘Laura is quite correct. I’ll examine every conceivable possibility with every eventuality at my disposal. There is another thing to be considered,’ said Giles, running a finger around the rim of his glass before having another sip. ‘There is just a thought coming into my brain. Perhaps Cyril fired the gun but didn’t wound himself.’
‘How would that be possible?’ said Freddie.
‘Simple,’ said Giles, ‘he could have used a gun similar to Cindy’s.’
‘You mean a gun that fired blanks?’
‘Exactly. But nevertheless a gun firing blanks could have been used by his brother Dicky if that had been prear
ranged between them.’
‘So they could have been in this together, Giles?’ Laura said, joining in the conversation.
‘Well they were identical twins and in many cases such twins can work so closely together for their own ends. This might not have been an impromptu act. They could have been planning this for some time and just waiting for the opportunity to carry it out… for whatever reason.’ Giles pursed his lips before clearing his throat. ‘Pure speculation, I admit, but we have to take account of all possibilities.’
‘There’s something bothering me, Giles,’ said Laura.
‘I’ll do my best. What is it?’
‘When Dicky bent down to help his brother after the shot was heard and Cyril had collapsed on the floor there was blood on Dicky’s hand when he accused Cindy of firing the gun. Was that real blood or stage blood? What do you think?’
‘I don’t know. As Dicky wouldn’t let anyone near him and he apparently washed whatever was on his hands fairly smartly we’ll never know until the business is cleared up and we find a solution to how and what really happened.’
‘If it was stage blood on Dicky’s hand it probably means Cyril wasn’t shot while on the stage. But if that’s what happened how did the real blood appear in the basement and in the storage area?’
‘It would simply mean that Cyril was wounded some time after he disappeared from the stage,’ Giles said as he stroked his chin. ‘And if that’s what happened it would certainly be interesting to know what on earth he was playing at.’
‘Your conjectures, Giles, have got me in a real pickle,’ said Freddie, his forehead becoming pitted with little wrinkles. ‘I suppose you could be right that someone is playing a very funny game but so far we’ve only taken into account the three most obvious suspects. We still can’t dismiss any of the others. Or can we?’
‘No, we can’t. We must remember that any one of the others could have fired a gun using blanks if there was no intention of hitting Cyril but whatever the truth I can’t help feeling that the Theatre Royal, with its history of mystery and imaginative ghostly experiences is being used to aid and abet the person or persons who’ve created this devilish incident.’
‘But, Giles,’ said Freddie. ‘that would surely mean that whoever is involved must have planned this once the place for the rehearsals was decided. And that same person would have to have been knowledgeable about the facts or fiction regarding the building.’
‘Hmm!’ Giles took another sip of his whisky.
‘There are so many possibilities it’s beginning to sound like one of those detective stories, my dear Giles,’ said Laura as she rose to pour coffee and uncover sandwiches. ‘If what Detective Sergeant Miller said is true, that no crime has been committed, then I’m sorry Giles, the likelihood of a ghastly hoax does seem the most sensible explanation.’
‘Wasn’t there a novel by the queen of crime fiction where all the suspects were found to have committed the murder? So it’s possible, Giles,’ Freddie said. ‘That everyone who was on the stage or in the auditorium, apart from you, me and Laura could have arranged for the shooting to take place. And if that’s what happened it does indicate a huge hoax at your expense and everything will be declared in the morning when we return to the theatre.’
Giles smiled and took his feet off the stool. ‘If what you say is true, Freddie, they’ll all be laughing their heads off in the Theatre Royal and I’ll just have to grin and bear it when confronted by them.’
‘Of course Giles,’ laughed Freddie, perfectly aware by the expression on Giles’ face that he was completely confident that such an eventuality was not remotely likely.
‘But everyone is still seriously concerned about what happened,’ said Laura. ‘When you get back to the theatre in the morning you’ll be once again participating in a mystery that requires your detective skills. And instead of being totally involved in planning the illusions the play requires to heighten audience enjoyment, you’ll unfortunately be called to play the same role as you did in your previous looked-room mysteries.’
‘The one consolation,’ said Freddie, lifting his glass as if proposing a toast. ‘The one consolation is at least it doesn’t look as if you’ll need to display your skills to solve a murder Giles.’
‘I don’t think you should jump to conclusions, Freddie. I have an inexplicable feeling that worse is yet to come. What has already taken place could be a prelude to a crime of cataclysmic proportion. That’s when motive comes into the equation. If this was not a hoax, and I’ll be surprised if it was, what has already been planned and carried out could be a harbinger of doom. We’ll know where we stand in the morning and if it was not a hoax it’ll be full steam ahead to try and track down the culprit or culprits if more than one. And first of all we have to decide the truth about the gun that fired the shot. Did it fire bullets or blanks?’
Chapter 15
IT’S THAT CURSE AGAIN
The piercing explosion of a gunshot startled Giles out of a restless sleep. The dark bedroom was inky black as he scrabbled for the bedside lamp then fumbled for his watch. His bleary eyes could just make out the time and he realised he’d been in bed for less than an hour. He rubbed his eyes, stumbled out of bed and crossed to the window that looked out towards the stables. Opening the curtain and looking to the right he could see a light shining in the lodge. George, the groom, had either been rudely awakened by the sound of the gunshot or hadn’t yet retired for the night, thought Giles.
Had he been having a nightmare or was someone firing a gun in the dead of night? He couldn’t be sure. All he remembered was going to bed in a disturbed frame of mind as he tried to place the eventful happenings in the theatre in some chronological order. He had twisted and turned between the bed sheets as his tormented mind had gone over the scene when Cyril had been shot. Something was niggling him. He had watched each rehearsal of that particular scene over and over again and each time the action was more or less the same apart from Cyril’s efforts when shot by Cindy. But something was different about that scene when Dicky declared his twin brother dead. What was it?
Now slightly dizzy from jumping up so quickly, Giles stumbled back to bed, sitting on the edge to steady himself. The shrill ring of the telephone startled him, and reaching out clumsily he knocked the water carafe off his bedside table, drenching the pillow and his pyjamas. Cursing under his breath he grabbed the phone, but before he had time to speak, George’s gruff voice bellowed down the line.
‘Is that you, sir? George here, saw your light go on. Nothing to be alarmed about. Some farmer taking a pot shot at a marauding fox I expect. Happens a lot. Vermin, you see. Go for the sheep.’
Giles mumbled his thanks and replaced the receiver. He tripped over his pyjamas, ineffectively dabbed at the pillow then tossed it on the floor. He lay back and closed his eyes. But sleep evaded him. Over and over again the scenario of the shooting scene played out in his mind.
Cyril’s collapse when the shot was fired had been a definite improvement. No doubt about that. But that wasn’t it. Dicky’s attempt to assist his brother was also dramatically electrifying and was unrecognisable compared with previous rehearsals. But that wasn’t what was bothering Giles. His mind raced back to the question that was still to be answered. Bullets or blanks? That was it! The sound! What had wakened him from a troubled sleep a few moments ago had been the sound of a gun and it was the sound of the gun at each rehearsal that was exactly the same each time. But the sound of the gun when Cyril was shot was different. He was sure of that. It didn’t sound like the gun used by Cindy at previous rehearsals and there was a distinct possibility that the shot fired at Cyril may have been a bullet which grazed some part of his body and ended up in the back wall of the theatre or in a piece of furniture on the stage. If that’s what happened then a gigantic hoax was quite definitely out of the question and what he must do in the morning when he returned to the theatre was to check the stage more meticulously for any sign of a hole made by a cartridge or slug.
The police of course had checked the likely trajectory for such evidence, but had found nothing. Rather perfunctorily, suspected Giles, for it was obvious that they hadn’t expected to find anything. But what if the trajectory was entirely different from the obvious one?
Giles sighed with relief and satisfaction. He turned out the light and closed his eyes. Morning could not come soon enough. But the search for a bullet hole on that stage would be like looking for a needle in the proverbial haystack. The number of crevices in the scenery on the stage was mind-boggling. Searching for Cyril was one thing but trying to find a tiny mark in the walls of an old stage might prove very difficult if not impossible. As he started to relax he at least knew what he’d be looking for in the morning. Giles smiled as he thought about the sound of that gunshot when Cyril was allegedly hit. If he was not imagining that the sound was different to that made when Cindy fired the blanks then the staging of a hoax made no sense. A gun firing blanks was all that was required to carry out a hoax. No need to get a real gun unless…! Unless a real gun was to be used for some other diabolical purpose. His mind in a whirl, it was early morning before he drifted off to sleep.
Over breakfast, Giles told Freddie and Laura what he’d decided to do.
‘I do hope you know what you’re doing,’ said Laura, as she passed the coffee. ‘A hoax would be despicable and I’d hate to think I’d got you involved with a group who’d even consider doing such a thing. I’d never forgive myself. But on the other hand, if you’re right and it’s not a hoax, there has to be a very gruesome explanation.’
‘No doubt about that,’ Freddie said. ‘Have you thought about bringing the ex Scotland Yard cop, Detective Superintendent Drummond into the equation? He’s been invaluable before. If he’s not too busy in his new job as head of the Northern Racecourses Security Team I’m sure he’d love to dip his toe into a mystery concerning The Cinderella Murders.’
The Cinderella Murders Page 11