‘What the hell do you mean by that?’ Walter asked, in a voice that demanded an immediate clarification. ‘You’re talking in bloody riddles again.’
Clearing his throat once more Giles looked Walter straight in the eye. ‘I mean what I say. Ghosts don’t fire guns and neither do they make people froth at the mouth.’ He raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips. ‘Make of that what you will!’
Mark groaned and opened his eyes. He coughed and brought up a mouthful of froth which Walter cleared before the Fairy Godmother let him have another sip of water.
Mark coughed again, his breath coming in fits and starts. ‘What’s been happening?’ he gasped, wiping his lips with the back of his hand.
‘I don’t think you want to know,’ Walter muttered, handing his co-playwright a tissue. ‘Much better you remain in the dark I think.’
‘I feel terrible,’ Mark spluttered again.
‘We know how you must feel,’ said Giles. ‘Do you need to take one of your pills?’
‘No… another sip of water would help. My mouth feels parched.’
The Fairy Godmother supplied the needful and Mark took several gulps with some of the liquid dribbling on to his chin. He slumped back in his seat and closed his eyes. As his breathing became steadier he slowly started to show signs of recovery.
‘I think he may make more progress than we at first thought when we came in,’ Walter commented, ‘but you stay here a little longer,’ he said to the Fairy Godmother. ‘And for God’s sake don’t leave him alone for any reason whatsoever. We’ll carry on with rehearsals and keep our fingers crossed that Mark will soon be back on his feet again. Are you coming Giles?’
‘I’ll be with you in a moment. There’s something I must do first.’
Walter stomped out of the Green Room muttering ‘You magicians… there’s always something you have to do first.’
Waiting until Walter had left and shut the door Giles bent over towards Mark whose eyes were now wide open and whose colour was rapidly returning. ‘Take it easy and try not to worry yourself too much,’ Giles said, his voice soft and soothing. ‘Don’t be upset if you don’t understand what I’m going to say to you. Just remember my words. Ghosts don’t fire guns.’
Chapter 22
DARE WE DROP OUR GUARD?
The expression on Mark’s face as Giles turned to leave the Green Room showed a glimmer of understanding. That expression heartened the magician detective and remained with him when he joined Walter to watch the illusions being performed.
Rehearsals were already well under way with the self-important Walter acting in his usual ultra officious manner as Giles sat down with Laura and Freddie in the auditorium
The enquiring glances that Laura and Freddie gave Giles, as if they were anxious to learn what had happened to Mark, were answered by the slight nod of the head and a trace of a smile on the magician’s anxious face. ‘I’ll fill you in later.’ he said quietly.
The quietness of Giles’ words was immediately broken by the booming voice of the bumptious portly playwright as he gave the magician a look of irritation at having his rehearsal interrupted by even a few quietly spoken words.
‘Where was I when I was rudely interrupted?’ he asked. ‘Oh yes, I remember. We were going through a few of the illusions we’ll use in the play. Illusions given us thankfully, I might add, by a magician who sometimes doesn’t know when to keep his mouth shut.’ Walter glared at Giles.
Giles remained impassive.
There was a brief hiatus as the playwright spoke to the twins who then took their place to perform the Stab in the Arm illusion in their gruesome attempt to frighten Cindy. With the stage in semi darkness and the lights man creating a spot effect on the arm when it was plunged by the dagger, the impact was stunning and terrifyingly realistic with the colour of the blood being so lifelike.
Walter was ecstatic. ‘Over the moon,’ he said. ‘Absolutely splendid. That will scare the hell out of Cindy and an audience. It had me in a state of shock, I can tell you.’
Next to be performed was the illusion the lighting expert had been called on to assist. This was to take place after the shooting of Cyril towards the end of the play when someone was to appear walking through the French windows that were closed and locked. This ghostly apparition was inspirational and even the rest of the cast, who were aware of what was going to happen, gasped in amazement.
Rubbing his hands it was clearly evident that Walter knew the play was on a roll and he motioned to the illusion’s creator his acknowledgement of that with a few nods of the head. ‘The illusion where the Fairy Godmother comes out of the large painting will be kept until later,’ Walter announced. ‘As the actor playing the lady is looking after Mark in the Green Room, regrettably she must stay there until he feels well enough to join us. I now want to go through the trap door illusion with the disappearance of Dicky through the trap. Cyril must be dressed in exactly the same clothes as Dicky when we do the run-through but that needn’t happen for this trial. All you have to do this time Cyril is go to the back of the auditorium and remain hidden until Dicky disappears through the trap door. That’s when you appear as if your brother has travelled some distance and then reappears instantaneously by magic. Thus the impossible becomes possible.’ Walter glanced at Giles with his smug look. ‘Am I right Mister Magician?’ And without waiting for an answer the playwright turned back to the twins and waited until they were in their positions.
Harry and his co-technician Eric worked the trap door to perfection and all eyes in the auditorium and on the stage turned to look at the rear of the theatre for the appearance of the twin. But something was wrong – no twin appeared.
The silence in the theatre was torn apart by the exasperated Walter. ‘What the hell is happening? I’ve never known a stage actor like this. He’s been shot and disappeared, hit on the head and knocked unconscious seemingly by a ghost and now he’s disappeared again. I can’t take much more of this. Is this another of your bloody illusions Giles?’ At that Walter stormed off the stage and, muttering obscenities, headed for the rear of the stalls.
He looked at where Cyril should have been in hiding and then turned to bump into the figure of Giles as the magician approached.
‘Well?’ said Giles.
‘He’s gone. The bird has flown. Again! Would you believe it?’
There was a muted groan from somewhere nearby which caused consternation and made Walter and Giles train their eyes to search for the whereabouts of such a noise of obvious distress.
In the dimming light of that area of the theatre it was difficult to see clearly what was around them and it was Giles who was first to actually identify where the intermittent groans were coming from when he stumbled and almost fell over the crouched figure of Cyril.
‘I’ve found him Walter. He’s lying here and is conscious. But he needs some help.’
‘What the hell is going on?’
‘Give him some time. Help me sit him up and we’ll maybe get an explanation before long.’
Cyril was shaking as they managed to get him to sit. His eyes were closed and his breathing was shallow. Slowly he began to recover and take cognisance of his surroundings and the shaking became less and less.
‘What happened Cyril?’ Walter asked.
Cyril took his time in answering. He shook his head. ‘I don’t know,’ he said, his voice wavering.
‘What do you mean you don’t know? Something must have caused you to collapse like this. Try and explain.’
Giles could detect a sign of fear in the twin’s face as he apparently tried desperately to recall. I came to the back of the auditorium and waited for the trap door disappearance of my brother when suddenly I lost all power in my legs. I felt I couldn’t stand or move and before I knew it I fell down.’
‘Did you see anyone? Or hear any voices?’
‘No!’ Cyril shook his head, clearly overwrought. ‘That’s what worries me. I don’t know what’s happening to me. It’s this
damn theatre.’ He stopped short for a few seconds and his features etched with anxiety. ‘Or…?’
‘Or what Cyril?’
‘… Or am I, like my uncle Mark, becoming obsessed by the long ago curse of an ancient Egyptian.’ He screwed up his face and on the verge of tears he said. ‘Am I losing my wits?’
‘I’m afraid that’s something I can’t answer,’ said Walter. ‘But after what you’ve just told me I suggest you should, like your uncle Mark, try to never be on your own during our rehearsals. Which means that you do not need to be out of sight when we do the trap door scene during the run-through. You can remain in the auditorium where we can all see you. Would that help?’
‘I suppose that might do the trick.’
Throughout all this Giles had remained silent but although he’d said nothing he had listened intently to everything and studied the reactions of the stricken actor and he smiled at Cyril’s last three words.
‘Do you think you might be ready to carry on with rehearsals Cyril?’ said Walter. ‘I don’t want to rush you but we must get on and I particularly want to go over the final scene of our play that gives a meaning to the title.’
‘I think so. At least I sincerely hope so.’
‘Good man. That’s the spirit,’ said Walter with relief. ‘If you’ll pardon the use of the term spirit. We may be sick to death of them by the time we finish here.’ The playwright sniggered like a demented schoolboy laughing at his own jokes.
With a little help Cyril gradually got to his feet and although staggering a little, made his way to the stage where he sat down in the front row of the stalls.
Walter made sure the other members of the cast were gathered on stage before he began his spiel.
‘I want every member of the cast to be prepared to act out something we’ve not really rehearsed so far,’ he roared. ‘That is the final scene when the Cinderella murders actually take place and which should bring our play to what I expect will be a powerful finale. Because the Fairy Godmother is looking after Mark in the Green Room we can do without her illusion when she appears from the picture frame and tells Cindy where to find the hidden gun. We’ll start with the action of Cindy taking the gun from the hollow book in the bookcase and follow that with the two twins threatening Cindy during which she reacts by producing the gun and shooting Cyril. And please Cyril let me have a replica of your previous fall. Well as far as you can muster, if you don’t mind.’
Walter threw Cyril a nod of encouragement before continuing. ‘After that we come to the action which so far has not been rehearsed and I want all those involved to give convincing performances.’ Walter produced his book of the stage play and turned to the last pages. ‘Can you come on stage Cyril and we’ll start from where Cindy says her lines If you take one step nearer I’ll kill you.’
Walter sat down and waited for Cindy, Cyril and Dicky to position themselves. He took one more look at the page where he wanted them to start and like a movie director shouted, ‘Action.’
CYRIL:
(Sniggering) Hmm! Got some spirit have we? I like that in a woman. And how do you propose to kill me little one? (Sneering) Got a pistol in your bra?
(Starts to close in on Cindy)
(Shot is fired and Cyril reels back and falls to the floor)
At that point Walter interrupted and smiling at Cyril pointed out the slight difference in the stage directions. ‘You may not notice, Cyril but Mark and I have changed the way you fall to the floor in our version of the book by leaving out the adverb clumsily as we hoped by the time we reached this far into the play your fall would be more realistic. Please carry on and give of your very best.’
(Cindy is seen with gun in her hand. Dicky kneels down to assist brother)
DICKY:
(Rising menacingly) He’s dead. My brother’s dead. You’ve killed him. I’ll make you pay for this. (Enraged and moves to attack Cindy. Gun is fired a second time and Dicky falls to the floor. Grizelda and Brigadier enter down Right)
BRIGADIER:
What’s happened?
GRIZELDA:
(Kneeling down beside her sons) My god! I think they’ve been shot. My poor boys are dead. Dead! Who could have done this terrible thing? (Getting slowly to her feet and moves to table where the telephone is) Do you have any idea how this could have happened girl? (Screams at Cindy) Get me a brandy girl. Now. And be quick about it.
(Cindy exits to kitchen. Grizelda lifts telephone receiver and pauses)
BRIGADIER:
What are you doing?
GRIZELDA:
What do you think? Phoning the police. My boys are dead. They’ve been murdered. Murdered! (She drops the phone and collapses)
(Cindy enters from kitchen with a glass of brandy and places it on the table beside step-mother whose collapsed body is being supported by the Brigadier. The phone is dangling from its cord)
GRIZELDA:
(Gasping) The police. Phone the police you idiot girl. My boys. My boys. They’ve been murdered. (Grizelda drinks from the glass and swallows the brandy in a gulp. Cindy lifts up the phone and starts dialling)
CINDY:
(Smiling) Is that Scotland Yard? I wish to report a murder (She hesitates while listening to the receiver) In fact I wish to report three murders to be exact.
BRIGADIER:
Your mother would be proud of you. She may tell you herself for here she comes.
Walter again stopped proceedings. ‘The stage direction after Grizelda says her lines They’ve been murdered. Murdered should not read that she collapses in the sense that she’s died. I’d prefer that to mean that you just sit down in a state of collapse, Grizelda. Your death scene comes after you gulp down the poisoned brandy. And when the Brigadier says his last lines I want to use the locked window illusion and have the Fairy Godmother walk through the French windows that are closed and locked after which she closes the play by saying her lines as in the book. They’ll never convict you my dear. They got what they deserved. And then the Fairy Godmother clasps Cindy to her bosom as the curtain falls. The entire cast will get ready for their curtain calls and I’m sure there will be lots of them.’
There was the usual subdued murmur of approval from the remainder of the cast after which Walter bellowed ‘Places everyone. We’ll go through that closing scene but we’ll have to do it without the Fairy Godmother. Mark’s need for solace takes precedence over ours, I guess.’
When the cast got to the positions where they had originally been blocked Walter sat down to watch the scene that he believed might bring the play to a successful conclusion.
It all started well with Cindy producing the small gun as if by magic. The two shots were carried out with perfection and the two boys fell as if they’d actually been shot for real. The pace quickened with Grizelda showing anguish and Cindy demonstrating mild elation as she brought in the brandy. The subsequent dramatic collapse of Grizelda was a work of art. Walter leapt to his feet. ‘That’s a wrap,’ he said. ‘Great stuff cast. Take a ten minute break.’ But his words were drowned by the spontaneous applause from the cast as the Fairy Godmother glided through the locked French windows to deliver her closing lines.
‘What the devil is the meaning of this?’ shouted Walter, throwing his book to the floor. ‘I specifically told you to stay with Mark in the Green Room. He was on no account to be left alone till the idiot came to his senses and stopped mumbling about his wretched curses.’
‘The idiot is not on his own. And I’m glad to say my senses are intact!’ Mark laughed to show no ill-feeling, as he sat down in the stalls and the embarrassed cast laughed jovially with him. ‘Thank you, I’m fully recovered. I’m no longer frothing at the mouth.’
‘Never mind about that now,’ mumbled Walter. ‘Right folks. Coffee break and then perhaps we can make an attempt at an uninterrupted run-through of our play.’
‘Our play?’ said Mark, his eyebrows raised in mock surprise. ‘That’s the first time you’ve ever admitted to being the co-au
thor. Could it possibly be Walter, that you now feel more confident of the success of our play?’
‘There was never the slightest doubt of its success,’ snapped Walter. He hesitated for a moment. ‘Authorship is irrelevant at present, Mark. We’ll discuss that later.’ Walter straightened his shoulders and turned to face the cast. ‘Now that we’re all here and we have the benefit of an extra day in this theatre, let’s put all our efforts into the play itself. We need to pull together, forget all this tomfoolery that’s been going on. Ghostly sightings! Blood dripping everywhere! Disappearances – not to say re-appearances! Faintings and gaspings! For goodness sake! The whole caboodle is a lot of nonsense. Stupid schoolboy tricks intending to sabotage my – sorry, our play.’ Walter stopped for breath. ‘Well it’s not going to happen. The play goes on.’
Loud clapping met Walter’s speech as the cast responded to his encouragement with enthusiasm and obvious relief.
‘You have all been – understandably, under a lot of pressure due to the short time we have had here to rehearse in this lovely old theatre. You’ve all been on edge and you’ve got yourselves in such a state that if anyone falls and hurts their head, you immediately conclude he must have been attacked. Every creak of this ancient building and you hear the clink of ghostly chains. Every shadow in the twists and turns of the theatre you see ghostly forms.’ Walter’s face creased into a smile. ‘So, everyone. No more of it. Let’s really pull together. We have a beautiful play to perform. Let’s do it.’
The Cinderella Murders Page 18