by Jim Eldridge
‘I shouldn’t be here,’ moaned Gabriel Moth. ‘I need to go home. I’m in shock.’
‘I sympathise, Mr Moth,’ said Daniel, ‘but the police will need to talk to you before you can leave.’
At the mention of the police, Moth gave groan and sank further down on the chair he was sitting on. Daniel turned his attention to the other watchman, Paul Dobbley, who seemed the more resolute.
‘Which of you actually found the body?’ he asked.
‘Me,’ said Dobbley. ‘We heard this scream from upstairs, and I ran up there to see what was going on.’
‘And you, Mr Moth?’ asked Daniel. ‘What did you do?’
‘I stayed in our room.’ Moth shuddered. ‘I didn’t know what was out there. Something terrifying, I knew that for sure.’
‘What did you see?’ Daniel asked Dobbley.
‘This young woman, standing screaming, and this young bloke lying on the floor. At first I thought he must be dead, then I saw he’d just fainted. I saw what I thought was a waxwork figure, broken, lying on the floor. Then I realised the head poking through the wax was real. It was a dead body.’
‘Did you recognise him?’ asked Daniel.
Dobbley shook his head. ‘It was Mr Tussaud who told me it was Walter Bagshot. I’d never seen him. I usually do days and Walter and Eric were on nights. And they’d only been here a couple of weeks.’
‘Mr Dobbley and his brother-in-law are filling in while I find permanent replacements for Eric and Walter,’ explained Tussaud.
‘I won’t be filling in any more!’ groaned Moth. ‘The next body found here could be mine!’
It was obvious after a few moments that there was very little to be learnt from the nightwatchmen that could throw any light on how the culprits had managed to smuggle Bagshot’s wax-encased body into the Chamber of Horrors without being spotted. Dobbley admitted that they hadn’t carried out any patrols of the museum, and his angry glance towards Moth told Daniel that the reason was Moth’s refusal to walk around the museum at night, and a reluctance to be left alone while Dobbley carried out any patrols.
‘We were planning to do a patrol when we heard the scream,’ he told them defensively.
Daniel and Abigail left the room accompanied by Tussaud.
‘What do you think?’ asked Tussaud.
‘I think that Mr Moth won’t be much use to you as a nightwatchman,’ said Daniel. ‘But Mr Dobbley seems to be a good man.’
‘Yes,’ agreed Tussaud. ‘I shall have to find a better companion for Mr Dobbley, I’m afraid.’
‘I think now would be a good time to interview the intruders,’ said Abigail.
‘Do you have anywhere we can talk to them?’ asked Daniel.
‘You can use my office,’ offered Tussaud.
‘I suggest somewhere less comfortable,’ said Daniel. ‘The fact that the young woman screamed and the young man fainted means they’ll be feeling on edge. I want to keep them that way. We’re more likely to get the truth out of them before they start to recover their senses.’
‘How about the chamber itself?’ suggested Abigail. ‘If it unnerved them before, it’ll keep them fearful.’
‘Possibly too fearful,’ said Daniel thoughtfully. ‘The body’s still in there and the last thing we want is to set the woman off screaming again. How about putting some chairs in the passageway just outside it?’
‘Yes, we can do that,’ said Tussaud. ‘I’ll get the nightwatchmen to bring three chairs up.’
‘And then can you have them bring the intruders up separately. The woman first.’
Tussaud nodded and hurried off.
‘Why the woman first?’ asked Abigail.
‘I’m guessing the man was the prime mover behind the intrusion. Let’s find out what she says before we listen to him start lying.’
‘Why would the man necessarily be behind it?’ asked Abigail.
‘We had situations like this when I was at Scotland Yard, and most times it was the men urging women to take risks in certain situations.’
‘Ah! Excitement equals sexual gratification,’ said Abigail in disapproval.
‘Exactly,’ said Daniel. ‘Although there have been instances when the women have been the ones to take the initiative, but mostly it’s the men. And if this woman is a screamer, my guess is she wasn’t the one who instigated their visit. Screamers aren’t usually the leaders in things like this.’
Paul Dobbley appeared, carrying three wooden chairs in a stack, which he proceeded to set out by the entrance to the Chamber of Horrors.
‘Thank you,’ said Abigail. ‘Your colleague isn’t helping you?’
‘He’s too afraid to leave our room!’ Dobbley snorted. ‘Mr Tussaud said you wanted the young woman first.’
‘Yes please,’ said Abigail. ‘Can you extricate her from her companion?’
Dobbley gave a derisive grunt. ‘Her companion’s even more scared than my brother-in-law.’ As they looked puzzled at this, he explained: ‘Moth. He’s married to my sister. Which is why I suggested him for this job, thought it might help him out.’ He scowled. ‘It’s the last time I try and do him a favour.’
Dobbley stomped off, and reappeared a few moments later with a hand firmly on Dolly’s shoulder, steering her along the corridor, and then pushing her down onto one of the chairs, before striding away again.
Dolly looked fearfully towards the Chamber of Horrors, then nervously up at Abigail and Daniel. ‘We didn’t do nothing,’ she whispered.
Daniel remained standing while Abigail sat down next to the young woman.
‘What’s your name?’ she asked.
‘Dolly. Dolly Watts.’
‘How old are you?’
‘Seventeen.’
‘Whose idea was it to sneak into the Chamber of Horrors after the museum had closed?’ asked Abigail.
‘Joe’s.’
‘Why?’
‘He said …he said we’d get a thrill out of it. It’d be a laugh.’
‘How did you get in?’
Dolly told them about hiding in the broom cupboard in the basement, then coming up the stairs when they thought it was all quiet.
‘And how did you discover the body?’
Dolly shuddered at the awful memory. ‘Joe said to touch one of the figures next to where the guillotine was. Its face. I did, and the wax came off, and I realised …’
Suddenly she dropped her face into her hands and began to sob and shake. Abigail looked questioningly at Daniel, who nodded. ‘Thank you for that, Dolly. I’ll have to take you back to the room for the moment, while we talk to Joe.’
‘When can I go home?’ she asked plaintively.
‘I’m afraid you’ll have to talk to the police first, so it won’t be until they get here.’
‘When will that be?’
‘That depends on them, I’m afraid.’
‘But you’ve already asked me questions,’ she said, pleadingly.
‘But we’re not the police,’ said Daniel.
‘Who are you?’
‘We’re private investigators hired by the museum.’ He held out his hand to her. ‘Can you walk?’
Dolly pushed herself up from the chair and stood, wobbling slightly. Abigail took her arm. ‘Hopefully it won’t be too long before the police arrive,’ she said. ‘Now, where’s the room they put you in?’
Daniel followed Abigail and Dolly until they came to a door with a key in the lock. Daniel turned the key and pushed the door open. A young man immediately leapt up from the chair he’d been sitting in. Joe Hobbs.
‘You can’t keep me here!’ he blustered.
‘Yes we can,’ said Daniel. ‘You’ll stay here until the police arrive to question you. But right now, we need to talk to you.’
‘Why?’ demanded Joe. ‘Who are you?’
‘The museum has hired us to investigate the recent murders here.’
‘M …murders?’ bleated Joe. ‘I ain’t got nothing to do with no murders!’
&
nbsp; ‘That’s what we’re here to find out,’ said Daniel. He turned to Dolly. ‘You stay here, Dolly, while we take this young man away and talk to him.’
‘You ain’t taking me anywhere!’ said Joe, sitting down on the chair.
Daniel turned to Abigail. ‘Would you go and tell the nightwatchmen we need their assistance. And tell them to bring a cosh and a length of strong rope.’
‘No!’ burst out Joe, and he sprang to his feet again.
Daniel stepped forward, took Joe by the arm and led him out of the room. Abigail followed them, locking the door behind her. They led Joe back to the three chairs outside the Chamber of Horrors, and sat him down. This time, Daniel took the chair next to the nervous Joe, who kept shooting glances towards the entrance to the chamber.
‘So, it was your idea to sneak into the Chamber of Horrors tonight.’
‘Others have done it!’ bleated Joe. ‘It’s a laugh!’
‘Did you know the dead man was in there, covered in wax? Was that part of your plan, to get Dolly excited, to show her a real dead man.’
‘No!’ shouted Joe, and he jumped to his feet, but at a warning glare from Daniel he sat down again.
‘Your idea was to get her excited so she’d have sex with you,’ said Daniel.
Joe swallowed. ‘Only if she wanted to,’ he said hoarsely.
‘So was the dead man part of the plan? You chose which figure you wanted her to touch.’
‘It was the face!’ protested Joe. ‘It was ’orrible! Really scary! Worse than any of the others!’
‘Do you know who the dead man is?’
Joe shook his head violently. ‘No.’
‘You didn’t recognise him?’
‘I didn’t even look at his face!’
‘Then how do you know you don’t know him?’
Joe looked from Daniel to Abigail, the back to Daniel again, helpless. ‘You’re trying to trick me!’
‘Did you know his dead body was going to be here?’
‘No! I didn’t know anything like that was going to be here! I thought they’d all be like – you know – waxwork models.’
There were the sounds of footsteps, and then John Tussaud appeared. Behind him was the glowering figure of Inspector Jarrett, accompanied by two uniformed constables.
‘Mr Wilson—’ began Tussaud, but he was interrupted by Jarrett, who demanded angrily, ‘What are you doing here, Wilson?’
‘Our job,’ said Daniel, getting to his feet. ‘I’m sure Mr Tussaud has told you the museum have engaged us to look into the murders here. Tonight we have a second, discovered by this young man and his companion.’
The inspector’s eyes switched to Abigail.
‘I assume you must be Miss Fenton,’ he said.
‘I am. And you must be Inspector Jarrett.’
‘I sent for them, at the same time I sent for Scotland Yard,’ Tussaud explained to Jarrett.
Daniel and Abigail let Tussaud tell the inspector what had occurred.
‘Walter Bagshot?’ said Jarret when Tussaud had finished.
‘So, not the murderer but another victim,’ commented Daniel.
‘Yes, well, you can never tell,’ said Jarrett defensively. ‘This is the young man who found the body, you say?’
‘It is. His name’s Joe Hobbs and his companion’s name is Dolly Watts. She’s currently locked in a room here.’
‘Well, she’s about to be locked in another,’ snapped Jarrett. He turned to the uniformed constables. ‘Take him down to the van and put him in it, then put her it as well. If they resist, handcuff them.’
‘You can’t arrest me!’ protested Joe. ‘I ain’t done nothing!’
‘I’ll be the judge of that,’ barked Jarrett.
The constables took Joe by the arms and marched him away.
‘What will happen to them?’ asked Tussaud.
‘I’ll take them with me to Scotland Yard, after I’ve looked at the body and questioned the nightwatchmen.’
‘What will you do with the body?’ asked Tussaud.
‘Take it in the van to the Yard as well,’ said Jarrett. ‘Our medics will give it a proper examination.’
‘I don’t think the intruders will react well to travelling in the van with the dead body,’ commented Abigail. ‘They might get upset.’
‘They can get upset all they want,’ snorted Jarret. ‘If they don’t like it they should have thought of the consequences before they broke in.’ He turned to Daniel and Abigail and told them curtly, ‘And I’ll examine the body on my own. There’s no need for you two to be here any more.’
‘I think there is,’ said Daniel. ‘There are still things to look into. And that’s what Tussauds have employed us to do.’
Jarrett scowled. ‘So long as you don’t get in my way.’
He stomped into the Chamber of Horrors.
‘What should we do?’ Tussaud asked Daniel and Abigail.
‘My advice is to stay out of his way,’ said Daniel. ‘But when he brings his men to remove the body, can you make sure that some of the wax that encased it remains.’
‘You think it might be important?’
‘It might tell us something about whoever did the encasing. And now, while Inspector Jarrett goes about his business, I wonder whether we could trouble you for a cup of coffee? It will help to keep us awake.’
CHAPTER TEN
Daniel and Abigail settled themselves in Tussaud’s office with two very welcome cups of coffee, while the museum manager busied himself hovering around Inspector Jarrett as he carried out his examination of the dead body, the Chamber of Horrors itself, the front and rear doors, and then went to interview the two nightwatchmen.
‘A bizarre turn of events,’ commented Abigail as she sipped at her coffee. ‘Bringing Bagshot’s body in and displaying it like that.’
‘It’s sending some kind of message,’ said Daniel. ‘But what message, and who’s it aimed at?’
‘What did you think of Inspector Jarrett taking Joe and Dolly in?’
‘The same as I’ve always thought about him: he’s a man who follows the rule book, and if the rule book says anyone found at the scene of a homicide is a possible suspect and should be taken into custody for close questioning, then that’s what he’ll do – even though it’s patently obvious to anyone with half a brain that they’re nothing to do with the body except discovering it.’
‘What will he do with them?’
‘Let them go, eventually. Once he gets approval for that from Superintendent Armstrong.’
‘You don’t like him’ said Abigail.
‘Did you?’ asked Daniel.
‘No,’ she admitted.
John Tussaud entered, wiping his brow. ‘The inspector’s gone,’ he announced.
‘Good,’ said Daniel. ‘Then if you don’t mind, I’d like to look at the scene in the Chamber of Horrors with you, especially the remains of the wax that encased Walter Bagshot.’
‘The inspector took quite a bit of it with him,’ said Tussaud. ‘For examination.’
‘But he left some behind?’
‘Oh yes.’
Daniel and Abigail followed Tussaud to the Chamber of Horrors and the melee of broken pieces of wax on the floor.
‘What do you think?’ asked Daniel as Tussaud picked up one of the larger pieces of wax and studied it.
‘Well, someone who knows about using wax – at least to a certain degree – was involved.’
‘What’s your opinion of the work, the use of wax?’ asked Daniel.
‘Crude, but effective,’ replied Tussaud. ‘It’s been done by someone with a certain amount of experience, although it’s a far lower standard than we have here at Tussauds.’ He frowned. ‘What puzzles me is how they managed to get it in without anyone seeing them.’
‘I think that’s simple enough,’ said Daniel. ‘Remember, the key to the back door was missing, and everyone assumed that Walter Bagshot had taken it. This says that whoever killed the two men had it. I’d st
rongly advise you to change the locks on the museum’s doors.’
‘Yes, of course. I’ll do that first thing.’ He frowned again. ‘Do you think Walter was killed at the same time they killed Eric?’
‘I do,’ said Daniel. ‘From what I saw of the body. Although the police surgeon will be able to tell us for certain.’
‘In that case, why take him away, only to bring his body back a few days later?’
‘Maximum publicity,’ said Daniel.
‘Bad publicity for the museum,’ said Tussaud with a shudder.
‘I believe the murders were a way of sending a message to someone,’ said Daniel. ‘Returning Walter two days later, sure his body would be discovered soon after, ensures that message is widely known.’
‘But what’s the message?’ asked Tussaud. ‘And who’s it aimed at?’
‘At the moment, that’s a mystery to which we don’t have the answer,’ admitted Daniel.
‘How long would Walter’s body have stayed upright before collapsing?’ asked Abigail.
‘Not very long,’ said Tussaud. ‘All our waxworks have a metal armature inside them as a support. There was no armature here; it was just the shell of wax holding his body up. A day at most.’
‘Do you have any enemies in the wax business?’ asked Abigail.
‘Enemies?’
‘The fact that Walter Bagshot’s body was encased in wax suggests someone with a knowledge of the wax modelling process,’ enlarged Abigail. ‘I was wondering about rival establishments. Other wax museums who might want to disrupt your business.’
‘By killing someone?’ said Tussaud, horrified.
‘It’s extreme, I agree,’ said Daniel. ‘But when I was with Scotland Yard we had quite a few murders where the motive would have seemed trivial. Two people arguing about ownership of a fence dividing their properties, and one killed the other. A shopkeeper who was angry because another shopkeeper copied his window display, so he set light to his rival’s shop, killing the shop owner and his family.’
Tussaud shuddered. ‘I can’t imagine anything like that happening in the wax museum business.’
‘I’m sure the shop owner who was burnt to death by his rival didn’t think such a thing was possible,’ persisted Daniel. ‘You must have rivals, every business does.’