'This is the second time I've been sat in your officers’ mess drinking Saddleback beer, having almost met my maker. It's also the second time you suggested you get me back to my cabin to recuperate. As I've said before, policemen don't believe in coincidences. Do you?'
'Us seafarers. Well, you know what they say about such folk, we're a superstitious lot. Now, I forgot to mention it, I've got something for you.'
The Deputy Captain reached down to the side of his leather carver chair and picked up a small gift wrapped box and handed it to the detective.
'What am I supposed to do with a ceramic shoe?' responded Simpers, struggling to untie a coloured ribbon holding the box closed.
'The shoe is a symbol of good fortune in Madeira. The guys who run the toboggan company went spare when they found out what had happened. They asked that I pass the gift on to you and to wish you good luck for the future.'
Simpers looked at the small object. He pondered what the hell was going on. Had somebody just tried to kill him? Or had somebody just saved his life? Simpers concluded that he'd need more than a ceramic shoe and good luck to keep him safe on this case.
In the Limelight
As usual, Simpers was the last to take his seat at the dinner table.
'Have you had a busy day, Mr Simpers?' said Amelia.
'I suppose you might call it, interesting, rather than busy.'
Realising his use of the word, interesting, served to encourage further questions, he moved on.
'What about your day. If you don't mind me saying, you sound a little tired,' replied Simpers.
'I told Amelia we shouldn't have done that Lavada stuff. We didn't have the footwear for it – I told her, you know. And I knew the tour operator was lying when she said it would just be a gentle walk down a section of the mountain. But would she listen? What do you think…' interjected Jonathan.
Amelia looked at the young man and offered him a sheepish smile. She winced as she shuffled her feet under the table to ease the pain from her recently acquired blisters.
'Yes, yes, I knew you'd do the, I told you so, routine. If you must know, I had a chat to a couple of passengers yesterday. They said they'd done the same walk and that it was great fun.'
'I bet it was that couple that looked as though they could run the London Marathon once a fortnight, and twice on a Sunday, replied Jonathan.
'Now you're being ridiculous. Just because they spend a lot of time on board in the gym doesn't mean their feet are any more supple than mine. Anyway, Mr Simpers here doesn't want to hear about our woes,' said Amelia.
'Funny you should say that, Amelia. I was only talking to the Deputy Captain about Lavadas earlier today,' said Simpers.
'I bet he didn't tell you that you needed to be a mountain goat to walk beside the bloody things, did he?' responded Jonathan.
Simpers sensed her growing displeasure and the risk of her throwing the bread she was holding at Jonathan. He decided the best course of action was to divert attention to the Smeetons.
'Jenny, Ken, what have you been up to today?'
'Well, to be truthful,' replied Jenny, 'we're glad to be back for a rest. A nice couple we met the other night, you know, the ones with the masks… oh, I forgot, they weren't all wearing masks, weren't they.' Simpers blushed at the mental images he had called up from the previous evening. 'Anyway, it turns out they are friends with a rather select set who rented a villa just out of Funchal. I have to say they were all most energetic, so to speak.'
'And I suppose they trek up and down Levadas to keep in trim,' said Jonathan, as he continued to provoke Amelia.
'Er… I don't think so. They didn't mention it. To be truthful, we weren't there for the conversation,' replied Jenny, now wearing an even broader smile.
Simpers thought it fortunate the line of conversation came to a merciful halt by the table steward. The young man asked each of them, starting with the ladies, for their choice of starters and main course. The crew member worked his way around the table until he came to the familiar silent figure sitting to Amelia's left.
'Good evening, old chap. One will take the carrot and coriander soup, followed by beef Wellington. May one request the portions to be on the small side, one has one's figure to consider, what?'
The steward jotted down the diminutive wooden figure's order without batting an eyelid. The episode had not gone unnoticed by other passengers close enough to catch a side view of the ventriloquist dummy. They became mesmerised when its mouth opened and closed in synchronisation with the words spoken.
'How do you do that,' said an elderly man sat a few feet away from the marionette.
'Are you talking to me, or to Prince Cedric?' replied Amelia
'Do you know, if I'm honest, I'm not sure,' replied the elderly man as he looked first at the wooden doll, then Amelia, and then back to the doll.
'Let's just say Prince Cedric and I have an understanding,' answered Amelia, winking at the old man as she did so. He winked back, then turned his attention toward his plate of melon boat and Palma Ham.
The rest of the meal passed off well enough with convivial conversation flowing between Simpers and his table companions. In the few days they'd spent in each other's company a peculiar camaraderie had developed between them. Even though others may have viewed them as an eclectic assortment of individuals with odd interests.
The table stewards began to serve cheese and biscuits. As they did so, Simpers observed a noticeable movement of passengers from the dining room.
'They're making sure they get into the theatre early to grab a seat,' said Amelia. 'There's supposed to be a good magician headlining tonight. You fancy going, Mr Simpers?' Amelia added as she caught sight of Simpers watching the trail of passengers leaving the room.
'Not my cup of tea, to be honest. Believe it or not, in my youth I played in a band and we once had the misfortune to support a magician act at a holiday camp.'
'You, a musician? What did you play?' asked Amelia.
'A bass guitar… not well at all. Anyway, that's not the point. What I can say is, if you caught on how these tricks work, you'd want a cold shower as a punishment for falling for them.'
'All the more reason for you joining us in the theatre so that you can spill the beans on how he performs the tricks. Deal?' replied Amelia.
Simpers knew when the game was up. Against his better judgement, he agreed to join his table companions.
'I just need to get back to my cabin and put Prince Cedric to bed. Save me a seat, will you, Jonathan,' said Amelia.
'Sorry, can't do that. I read in the newsletter that we are not allowed to save seats for people in the theatre,' replied Jonathan, much to Amelia's chagrin.
'When you get inside, check it out… and I'll bet you there’ll be strong looking woman, standing and looking at the doors. They'll have an arm up like a traffic policeman trying to catch the attention of a friend or two that they are saving a seat for. So shut up, grow up, and save me a seat, or we'll be having words.'
Jonathan had known Amelia for long enough to know her comments about growing up were in jest. As for the rest, he knew she was deadly serious and he did not want Amelia to 'have words with him'. She had had words with him before, and it wasn't a pleasant experience. For one thing, it could be confusing. The last time, he didn't know whether it was her talking, or the vase, or the statue he happened to be standing next to when she threw her voice.
'Amelia was right. Look at those two down there. They're like sentries. I wouldn't like to meet them in an underpass on a dark night,' said Jenny Smeeton. The women seemed to work in pairs. One sat at the end of the row; the other several seats in, depending on how many places were being reserved for their companions.
Simpers now understood why so many of his fellow diners had left the room before coffee and mints. The theatre had filled in minutes. It reminded him of being at school with the most precious seats being at the back.
'It's the front row for us, I'm afraid,' said Ken Smeeton.
'Whatever you do – and I'm talking to you in particular, Jonathan, don't volunteer to go up on stage. You know what these magicians are like, they're looking for a sucker. I'm not saying you look like a sucker, but they're on the lookout for anybody fool enough to give them eye contact.'
For all Jonathan's youth, he understood what Ken meant and nodded his head in agreement. The young man was also wise enough to obey Amelia's command. So he placed a used table napkin he happened to have in his jacket pocket onto the chair between himself and Simpers. This, he felt with some confidence, would serve as a warning to passers-by that the seat had an occupant.
A few minutes later Amelia appeared. She looked down at the stained napkin, then glanced at Jonathan and shook her head in mild disgust. She gestured to Jonathan that he should remove the offending material. She dusted whatever may have fallen from the napkin onto the seat away with the back of her hand, and in Jonathan's direction. Content all was clean, she took her seat with a distinct lack of delicacy. As she did so, the house lights dimmed and a disembodied voice boomed from the surroundsound speakers.
'Ladies and gentleman, the performance is about to begin. We do not allow the taking of photos or videos due to copyright laws. Please enjoy the show.'
'Nothing to do with that, you know,' Amelia whispered to Jonathan. 'They just want you to buy the act's DVD at the end of the show. My husband made a mint pulling the same trick.'
Amelia's lecture to Jonathan on the subject of merchandising came to an abrupt halt. A loud bang and huge puff of smoke filled the auditorium. A high-pitched squeal then dominated as the magician catapulted onto the stage through a trapdoor. Unfortunately for the magician, the door hadn't opened to its full extent as he had started his ascent. On his way through, he had clipped his right ear, leaving a trickle of blood dripping onto his shoulder. The magician did his best in concealing his pain in the best traditions of the show having to go on. He winced once or twice as he gave an impressive display of wild hand movements. These provided the distraction he needed to dab the oozing liquid from his throbbing ear.
After a flurry of rapid fire illusions, the magician waited for the applause to die down. He addressed the audience, at the same time, removing a black silk cover with a swish of his hand. A stainless steel pedestal around two feet tall revealed itself. The stand had a small round top on which perched a bright red telephone, circa 1950s model.
'I'm looking for someone special to help me with my next illusion. Any volunteers?'
The magician scanned the front couple of rows for anybody that was giving him eye contact. Despite Simpers keeping his eyes on the tips of his shoes, the magician zeroed in on the hapless detective.
'Perhaps you, sir?'
Try as Simpers did not to do so, he found himself looking up at the magician while shaking his head. He also held his right hand up to the horizontal, palm open and to the magician. Simper' discomfort continued as the magician pressed his case. His saviour came in the form of Jenny Smeeton as she popped up like a rabbit from her chair and bounded onto the stage. Simpers was still calming himself down as Jonathan bent forward to catch Ken Smeeton's attention.
'I thought you said we shouldn't volunteer for anything?'
'It seems my wife has seen something in that magician that she finds attractive. In such cases I'm afraid logic goes right out the window.'
As Jenny Smeeton basked in the attention of being centre stage, the magician whispered into her ear. Jenny frowned from time to time as if labouring at the amount of information she was digesting.
'Ladies and gentlemen, my brave volunteer, Jenny, has agreed to take any telephone messages for me as I continue with my act. She is under strict instructions to answer the phone within two rings. If she does not, a surprise awaits her.' As he spoke, he positioned Jenny next to the telephone and continued with the rest of the show.
'It's called auto-suggestion, Amelia,' said Simpers as he leant into her, speaking in a low voice.
'I know exactly how this trick works, Mr Simpers. There is a spring loaded pin in the handgrip of that telephone, which he controls. When she picks up the handset he will distract her. The phone will ring again, and he will press a small connection in his hand. That will trigger the pin and give Jenny what she thinks is an electric shock. Of course, he will have told Jenny that it is, indeed, an electric shock. And the only way to avoid a shock is to answer the phone quickly enough – which of course she won't, because he holds the zapper.'
A few seconds later, the phone rang. Jenny lifted the handset. As Amelia predicted, the magician started to hurl quick fire questions at the hapless woman. As Jenny started to answer his questions she jumped with both feet as the concealed pin hit her right palm. The audience collapsed in laughter as the magician feigned surprise. He took the phone from Jenny, placing it to his ear and gesturing to the audience that he couldn't understand what the problem was.
As Jenny composed herself and the magician continued with the act, the phone rang once again. Unsure whether she should lift the handset or not, she remembered his words. The longer she left the phone, the bigger the surprise she would get. And she now knew what surprise awaited her. She once again picked up the handset.
This time the magician brought Jenny's attention to some imaginary objects in the wings of the stage. The result was that she failed to answer the phone in time. Once again she received a sharp prick, which she assumed was an electric shock, to her right palm only this time more powerful. Such was the force of the shock, Jenny flung the phone to the floor. Again the magician picked it up and placed it to his ear. He feigned even more surprise at Jenny's odd behaviour.
When the laughter had died down, he checked Jenny was OK to continue. The magician then warned the audience that if she failed in her task the third time, the table on which the telephone sat would explode. He went on to explain the grave danger that Jenny, and indeed the audience would be in if this was to occur. Jenny's eyes switched between the telephone and the table on which it sat as if willing the phone not to ring. On cue, the telephone sprang to life. Jenny had decided that this time she would lift the handset toot suite. But after one ring, the phone went silent. The magician looked at Jenny, asking her what she had done to the thing. As Jenny shook her head and looked at the handset, it once again sprang into life. Alarmed, Jenny grabbed it. It appeared to be stuck to the metal top on which it sat. The magician placed a hand on either side of his head as if in panic, which served only to send the audience into greater waves of laughter. Jenny returned the magician's panicked look – she thought he was serious. He gestured Jenny to move away from the phone and heightened the tension still further by grabbing her arm and pulling the panicked woman to one side, at which point the telephone shot upwards and backwards. Smoke filled the stage once more, to the accompaniment of a loud bang. The audience let out a simultaneous gasp of surprise. Jenny pressed herself into the magician without thinking. He appeared pleased at the turn of events.
The phone shot to the rear of the stage. The metal stand on which it had been resting tipped forward and fell so that its flat top now faced the audience. The magician looked anxious. The more anxious he looked, the more the audience laughed. He wasn't joking any more.
'Something's not right, Mr Simpers,' said Amelia. 'I've seen this trick before. That table is not supposed to fall over. In a few seconds it will explode into half a dozen pieces. I just hope the steel chains holding each of the pieces together is intact.'
Simpers looked at Amelia for sign of a smile, judging that this was another attempt at winding him up with her peculiar sense of humour. She wasn't smiling.
Seconds later there was another bang, but louder than before. Again the audience first gasped, then laughed. They applauded the spectacle unfolding before them. Simpers could see the table breaking apart as the explosion subsided. He noticed the feet attached to the circular column by a chain, just as Amelia had said. As the smoke cleared he could also see a chain attached at one end to the column. To h
is horror, he noticed the other end free of the tabletop, which had disappeared. Simpers looked at the magician to see his face frozen in fear as he stared back in Simpers' direction. It wasn't until he turned to his right that he noticed Ken Smeeton sat ramrod straight in his seat. His eyes closed, he had a trickle of blood oozing from the centre of his forehead. The situation seems surreal. The audience were in a state of collapse as they laughed and applauded the performance. Meanwhile, Simpers took in the horror unfolding beside him.
The magician appeared to gain his composure and thanked the audience for their applause. As he made his bows the deep bass note of his theme tune filled the auditorium and the house lights came up. The rate at which the room emptied amazed Simpers. How, he thought, could those passengers who appeared to have difficulty walking now move with such speed? It seemed their ailments had dissipated. Perhaps the magician's skill had prevailed. Or, he concluded, they just wanted to be the first to the bar.
To cap things, in their eagerness to get out of the place, they hadn't even noticed poor Smeeton as he sat motionless in his seat.
'Oh my God, this has never happened before. I've been doing this trick for years and nothing has ever gone wrong,' said the magician as he stood in front of the still comatose Smeeton.
As a first-aider dealt with the injured man and tried his best to calm the magician down, Simpers absented himself and made his way onto the stage. He took in the scene as a whole, before kneeling down beside the stricken table stand. He paid particular attention to the cleanness with which the loose end of the restraining chain had broken. From his examination he couldn't tell if metal fatigue was to blame, or that sabotage was in play. Of more importance, he couldn't be sure whether it was an accident, or whether he had been the intended victim. The logical side of his brain said that there was no way the table could have fallen in a predictable way to hit him. His emotional intelligence placed doubt on that logic.
Diamond in the Blue: D.I. Simpers Investigates Page 11