The Cinderella Murders Read online

  ‘Yes we did but for reasons of his own Walter doesn’t want to be acknowledged as co-author.’

  ‘You mentioned spectacular effects, Mark. Can you give us a hint of what you have in mind?’ asked Laura.

  ‘Yes, Laura. If Giles can produce illusions that will make the audience gasp with amazement that will be just the job. I’m not sure if it can be achieved on stage but a transformation effect would be wonderful.’

  ‘What do you have to say about that, Giles?’ Laura quizzed, her eyes twinkling with anticipation.

  ‘Funnily enough I’m mildly staggered at Mark’s use of the term transformation.’

  ‘Why?’ Mark questioned, his brow furrowed with puzzlement.

  ‘The term Transformation just happens to be one of the accepted categories of effects used by stage magicians. For example a silk handkerchief changes colour or a lady changes into a tiger – and that rather reminds me of something I was recently involved with while investigating strange accidents at the circus I mentioned.’

  ‘Can that sort of illusion be created on stage, Giles?’

  ‘Yes it can.’

  Mark leaned forward. ‘But can you do it?’ he said, expectantly.

  ‘Easily. It will all depend on the form you wish the transformation to be, but we can discuss that once the reading of the play has been done.’

  ‘This is far beyond anything I could’ve hoped for,’ said Mark, settling back in his chair. ‘Apart from the transformation effect what other illusions can be achieved?’

  ‘Quite a few for stage magic. Let me list them for you as this may help you decide exactly the kind of illusion you want that might make your audience gasp.’ The smile on the face of the historian of magic clearly displayed how he relished the idea in which he was now engaged. ‘There is disagreement among some magicians as to what categories actually exist but I’ll give you some notion of the effects that can be used. I suppose the most common are Production and Vanish. They’re pretty well self-explanatory – such as producing a rabbit from an empty hat or someone appearing in a puff of smoke on an otherwise empty stage – all these effects are productions. Vanish, on the other hand is the reverse of a production – making something or someone disappear.’

  Clapping his hands and rubbing them together Mark was quick to show his approval of what he was hearing. ‘I can’t wait for this to begin,’ he said. ‘and I’m anticipating a very successful collaboration. I’m now certain we can work together, Giles.’

  ‘I’m glad you think so. There are lots of possibilities we can use. There’s Restoration such as sawing a woman in half though I rather doubt you’d be wanting to use that as it requires special equipment but one effect you might incorporate into your play is Penetration – a solid object passes through another, a knife penetrates an arm, someone walks through a mirror or a sheet of plate glass. These effects can produce the audible gasp from an unsuspecting audience. Sometimes referred to as “solid-through-solid” by stage magicians.’

  ‘I must admit I’m getting quite excited about this forthcoming venture you two are conjuring up,’ said an elated Laura. ‘This could be the best tonic my Giles could have.’

  At that point the door opened and Doreen entered, came over to Laura and whispered in her ear.

  When Doreen, with the trolley of empty dishes, had left the room and closed the door Laura turned to her visitor. ‘Mother has suggested you stay and join us for dinner, Mark, if you care to do so.’

  ‘That’s very considerate. I’ve arranged to call in on my associate, Walter in Carlisle after I leave here but he would probably expect me to be late anyway.’

  ‘So you’ll stay,’ said Giles, shaking Mark’s hand. ‘There’s a good chance you’ll meet my close friend this evening. He’s at Ayr racecourse today to watch the big sprint, the Ayr Gold Cup, and he promised to call in on his way home. Freddie and I have been good friends since we met in the RAF at West Kirby in the Wirral.’

  ‘I’d like to meet him as I’m a bit of a racing man myself. Where I come from is close enough to Liverpool for an annual visit to the home of the Grand National at Aintree. You say his name is Freddie?’

  ‘Yes Freddie Oldsworth. He lives in Evesham with his wife and two little girls. Freddie will be best man at our wedding and for a number of years now we’ve had the same interests. We happen to be members of the Ghost Club.’

  There was a sudden and dramatic change in Mark’s demeanour when the Ghost Club was mentioned. His eyes took on a glazed look and there was a noticeable throbbing of a vein in his temple.

  ‘What’s the matter, Mark?’ There was no reply. The only sound in the room was the laboured breathing of a man having a relapse after apparently making a remarkable recovery. The laboured breathing of a man who was desperately trying to overcome a dread of something uncanny but was staring into the unknown. A man devoid of any emotion except fear. A fear of the past. A fear also of the future. A desperation of foreboding. ‘Was it the mention of the word ghost, Mark? If it was, I didn’t mean to upset you. Freddie and I – well we’re fascinated by the very nature of such apparitions. The history of theatre is full of them and fraudulent mediums have deceived those wishing to make contact with departed loved ones.’

  ‘Please don’t reproach yourself for upsetting me. There are so many things happening to me at the moment – perhaps I’m ready to explain my untimely health problems.’

  ‘Can we do anything to help?’ Laura said, her words delivered with tenderness.

  ‘No. I doubt if you can. I suppose I should get things off my chest and tell you what brought on the condition I was in when I arrived here.’

  ‘Don’t push yourself, Mark, but I’m a great believer that if you discuss a problem with someone things never seem quite so bad,’ Giles said, as he glanced at Laura who was gently smiling and nodding approval.

  ‘Oh how I wish that were true,’ Mark said, surreptitiously scanning his hosts. ‘What I’m about to tell you might change your mind though.’

  ‘We’ll be the best judge of that I’m sure. Let us hear what you have to say and perhaps we can sort things out.’

  Sitting back in his chair Mark took a deep breath before speaking. ‘I have to go back in time to when I was in my early teens. I suppose I was quite impressionable at that age when I was visited by an uncle shortly after the tragic sinking of the Titanic in April 1912. He told me some strange tales about how he was related to someone who’d been in Egypt in the 1890s with a group supposedly discovering the tomb of the Princess of Amen-Ra in the Valley of the Kings at Luxor. There were so many conflicting reports about the Princess who’d lived around 1050 BC but legend has it that after the discovery of the mummy a curse was put on those who’d done the excavations and those who had anything to do with the coffin and its remains.’

  ‘Excuse me for a moment,’ said Laura. ’I’ll get you some more water.’

  ‘You mentioned Titanic,’ said Giles with a tone of incredulity. ‘What connection is there between this Princess and the sinking of the unsinkable liner?’

  ‘I’ll come to that in a moment, Giles. Just give me time to catch my breath.’

  ‘Here you are,’ said Laura, as she entered the library with a jug of water. ‘Just relax and take your time.’

  Taking a few gulps from the glass before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Mark settled back in his chair while Giles brought two desk chairs forward so that he and Laura could be seated. ‘While you were away getting the life-giving aqua for me your husband-to-be was asking if there was any connection between the tale of the Princess of Amen-Ra and the liner Titanic.’

  ‘Yes… …? Was there?’ As Giles posed the question he was alarmed at the gravity of the pale complexion of this apparent stalwart of a man.

  ‘If you believe in the tales of the supernatural told to me by my uncle you’ll have no doubt there was a connection. He said he’d met four rich young Englishmen who were visiting the excavation site of the Princess and were i
nvited to buy the elaborate mummy case containing her remains. They drew lots and the winner paid several thousand pounds and had the mummy taken to his hotel. The young man was later spotted walking out to the desert and was never seen again. The other three all suffered severe mishaps, one becoming seriously ill and losing his job, another being accidentally shot and having an arm amputated and the third losing his entire savings when his bank failed.’

  ‘You were told all this by your uncle – the year the Titanic sank?’

  ‘Yes Giles. April 1912.’

  ‘But that was more than ten or fifteen years after the discovery of the tomb of the Princess of Amen-Ra. Surely a connection between that and the tragic disaster of the Titanic would be a bit far-fetched?’

  ‘I thought so at the time even though I was in my early teens but my uncle was adamant that the mummy was eventually bought by a business man in London and after a series of documented tragedies it was donated to the British Museum. According to reports the British Museum claim they never received the coffin – only the lid was put on display. No British museum would take the embalmed mummy after almost twenty people had either met with misfortune or, in some cases, death in the space of ten years or so. The curse of the mummy was by that time widely accepted.’ There was a tremor in the hand holding the glass as Mark took another drink of water. He looked at the glass. ‘Water!’

  Laura replenished the almost empty glass. ‘Water?’ she said, her head tilted slightly to one side. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Association, I suppose. Just looking into the glass fills me with dread. Memories of a legend torment me.’

  ‘A legend?’

  ‘It concerns a wealthy American archaeologist (though some say it was a journalist) who purchased the mummy dismissing all reports of a curse. He wanted to have it taken across to the United States but although putting no credence on the curse he had it strapped to the underside of his car before having it taken on board the White Star liner due to make its maiden voyage across the Atlantic. That was in April 1912 and the liner was the Titanic.’

  ‘That’s all very well, Mark,’ said Giles, in a tone that suggested scepticism of everything he’d just heard. ‘But what leads you to believe that such a curse may have an effect on your own life even if the sinking of the Titanic was remotely due to a curse placed upon the ship because it was carrying the remains of this Princess of Amen-Ra?’

  Biting his lip and raising his eyebrows the giant of a man who’d related the disturbing tale of the supernatural leaned forward in his chair and reached out for the glass of water on the table. Before answering he drained the glass which Laura refilled. ‘You must remember,’ he said. ‘I was young and at a very impressionable age when my uncle instilled into me that the curse of the unlucky mummy would remain with all members of our family with varying degrees of misfortune.’ There was a pause before he continued. ‘I lost my sister,’ he said with a tremor in his voice. ‘She died in childbirth. There was never any official information that the mummy was ever taken aboard the fated ship but the possibility of impending disaster has remained with me ever since the sinking of that ship.’

  ‘We hear what you’re saying, Mark, but Giles and I are wondering what caused your unexpected relapse when you arrived here this afternoon. Something terrible must’ve happened to cause you such distress.’

  ‘Strangely enough it was nothing more than the name of your house.’

  ‘Maskelyne Hall?’

  ‘Yes. Maskelyne Hall! I may not know too much about stage magicians but one thing I do know is that the British performer J N Maskelyne established, along with his partner, their own theatre in London where they performed stage magic. I understand the name of the theatre was Egyptian Hall and anything connected with Egypt brings me out in a sweat. Some members of my family have suffered serious problems and I can’t dismiss the fact that a curse can and possibly will have serious consequences where I’m concerned.’

  ‘The Mummy’s Curse, Mark,’ Laura said, her gentle smile broadening. ‘I’m coming to the conclusion that you and my Giles have one thing in common – you’re both smitten by the female sex of a bygone age. One by an Egyptian princess and the other by a Roman goddess!’

  ‘I think we must plead guilty, Mark,’ said Giles. ‘But perhaps a sumptuous dinner in good company will take my mind off a Goddess and yours off a destructive Princess and her mummy’s curse.’

  Chapter 3

  CRAGANOUR, ABOYEUR AND ANMER

  The remainder of that afternoon was spent in the autumn sunshine of late September. Laura and Giles took Mark outside into the autumn sunshine and gave him a guided tour of the grounds culminating with a visit to the stables where George, the groom, was attending the two hunters Samson and Delilah. Giles pointed out that the horses’ names had no connection to anything Egyptian. Mark could barely hide his delight while he readily explained that as someone from the Wirral near Liverpool he was aware that horses bred for racing usually originated from three stallions.

  ‘The Darley Arabian, Godolphin Arabian and the Byerley Turk,’ the grey-headed groom said, his head nodding with conviction.

  Mark gave the little groom a warm handshake and his demeanour changed dramatically as if he’d discarded a shroud. ‘I firmly believe I’ve come to the right place.’ he said as he clearly warmed to this rather diminutive groom working so diligently beside the towering animals.

  ‘Indeed you have,’ said George with a huge grin beaming his features. ‘Aye, my wife Doreen, the housekeeper, and I know full well you’ll be treated like a king by our professor of magic. He’ll give you more than you’d ever get from those so-called experts who’d fleece you as soon as looking at you.’

  ‘He hasn’t had the bill yet,’ Giles winked wickedly at the little groom and gave him a slap on the shoulder. ‘We’ll leave you to get on with your chores,’ he said, as he and Laura turned and led Mark away allowing George to continue to brush the already sleek coat of a handsome hunter.

  ‘I’m hoping to ride that one at the Dumfries-shire Hunt meeting next spring,’ said Laura, a glow of pleasure animating her face. ‘The opportunity was lost in the spring of this year which was a disappointment.’

  The air was turning a little chilly and Laura excused herself. ‘I’ll pop along and check on Mother,’ her voice exuding gentle concern. ‘Why not take Mark inside to the basement. I’ll bet he’ll be thrilled to see the magical props stored there by my father.’ At that she dashed off like a will o’the wisp as Mark watched her go with a touch of envy etching his lips, clearly wishing he could succumb to the same athleticism.

  Giles found this the ideal opportunity to show Mark the basement; the large space stacked with gadgets many of which had been made by Laura’s father. Mark couldn’t resist the temptation to explore what he described as an Aladdin’s cave. He wandered around the boxes of magical props, fascinated by objects relating to the extremely popular stage magicians Maskelyne and Devant and, in particular, the immortal Houdini. As the guided tour was nearing a satisfying conclusion Mark suddenly stopped as if mesmerised by a professional hypnotist. Every sinew of the pleasant-faced grey-haired man froze as he pointed to an open iron box with sharp steel spikes clearly evident. ‘What on earth is that?’ he asked in horror.

  ‘That… is a replica of a medieval torture,’ Giles said, framing his syllables through stiff jaws. ‘The Iron Maiden was the name of this device. It was an implement used to extract confessions using the threat of a violent death by the impalement of spikes when the lid was closed.’ Tonelessly he added… ‘I regret to say it once had an unfortunate outcome when I was about to solve the strange death of Laura’s father.’ Suddenly, overcome with emotion, Giles felt unable to continue. Every detail of the locked room death of Jack Ramsden, Laura’s father, flashed across his mind.

  ‘Good God, man. What happened?’ said Mark.

  Suddenly aware that Mark was looking at him with alarm Giles made an effort to regain his self-control. ‘Excuse
me… a momentary flashback, that’s all – nothing to be alarmed about. The Iron Maiden is of course a magnificent prop, not intended as an instrument of torture or untimely death. Like all props, an illusion – but a very dramatic one.’

  When they finally went to the sitting room Isabella Ramsden had a piece of news. Freddie had phoned about half an hour ago to say he was well on his way from the racecourse at Ayr and would be at the Hall in time for dinner. She greeted Mark graciously welcoming him to her home.

  ‘You’re very kind Mrs Ramsden. I’ve already been given special treatment,’ Mark said, with pronounced emphasis on the word treatment as he turned to nod to Giles and Laura. ‘The air here is wonderful and many people from the big cities would give their right arm just to sample the countryside you have on your doorstep.’

  ‘Thank you Mr Armstrong. I’m afraid we sometimes take it for granted but it’s refreshing to hear your views. Have you come to any arrangement with regard to your forthcoming play? My daughter has been keeping me informed and I wish you every success.’

  ‘Thank you Mrs Ramsden. I believe things are going to plan. I can certainly do with a slice of better fortune.’ Mark’s final words were spoken with an eerie chilliness and his expression suggested unwelcome repercussions.

  It didn’t take long for Laura to step in and avoid any further sombre discussion. ‘Mr Armstrong was a little under the weather when he arrived this afternoon, Mother but I’m delighted to say he has perked up and is looking forward to dining with us.’

  ‘It was rather an unfortunate health scare I occasionally suffer when certain events seem to occur, Mrs Ramsden. But your daughter and her fiancé were quick to put things right. I’m indebted to them for that.’

  ‘So you know that Laura and Giles are engaged to be married?’

  ‘I certainly do, Mrs Ramsden. I believe the happy day will take place after they work on my play?’