The Cinderella Murders Read online

  ‘That’s quite correct, Mr Armstrong, and you will meet Giles’ best man who should be here shortly on his way back from Ayr races.’

  ‘Freddie, of course. I look forward to meeting him.’

  The name Freddie had hardly left Mark’s lips when the sound of a car was heard on the gravel drive outside the house.

  ‘That’ll be my friend now,’ Giles said, in delighted anticipation as he headed for the door. ‘I’ll go and welcome him.’

  ‘Freddie and Giles have been the best of pals,’ said Laura, a sense of humour in her eyes, as Giles dashed off to greet his companion. ‘They have always enjoyed the same interests despite Freddie continually teasing Giles about his inability to win the matrimonial stakes. His abject failure to end up with the girl. Romantic impulses having no magic and inevitably becoming mere illusions.’

  Isabella Ramsden reached over to clasp Laura by the hand. ‘My daughter will next year bring Freddie’s teasing to an end. A successful conclusion when she and Giles wed in Lockerbie.’

  ‘If this play of mine can have the illusions I’m now so confident it will have I’d like to think that I may have an invitation to the wedding.’

  ‘I’m sure that can be arranged,’ said Laura as she rose to welcome Freddie. ‘I hope you had a profitable day’s racing. You certainly look rather pleased with yourself.’

  ‘Yes I’m glad to say I was lucky. I chose a horse called Be Friendly and it romped home to win the Gold Cup,’ said a smiling Freddie Oldsworth. ‘Won me a packet. But why don’t you introduce me to…?’

  ‘This is Mark, Mark Armstrong. Giles is planning to add some earth-shattering illusions to his new play.’

  ‘Pleased to meet you Mark. I haven’t the slightest doubt that Giles will be creative doing the thing he loves best.’ Freddie gave Laura a devilish wink as he shook the giant by the hand.

  Dinner that evening was as Giles had anticipated. Sumptuous and in good company. A pleasant convivial affair centred on the Be Friendly companionship between Freddie and Giles. The name of the sprint thoroughbred that had romped home in the Ayr Gold Cup that afternoon seemed to encapsulate proceedings at the meal. Mark Armstrong had apparently rid himself of fears he’d expressed earlier that afternoon and clearly explained to Freddie how interested he was in the thoroughbred racehorse after his guided tour round the stables where he’d been captivated by the two hunters Samson and Delilah. At one point though he glanced across surreptitiously at Giles and Laura as he described his visit to the magical props basement and the awesome sight of the spiked iron box-like contraption that had obviously disturbed Giles. Freddie, in turn, was extremely intrigued to learn of the theatrical involvement Laura and Giles were about to have in the strangely titled play and wanted some idea of when The Cinderella Murders might be performed on stage. Mark explained that he had no idea when that might happen but was delighted to tell of the next steps; a reading of the play in the Ramsden house with all the cast present to be followed by the introduction by Giles of several stage illusions which would give the play the incredulous dazzling effect that would add another dimension to it.

  Mark Armstrong apparently enjoyed meeting Freddie but when Mark set off to meet his co-playwright in Carlisle Freddie took Giles aside at the front door and cautioned him with unexpected remarks.

  ‘For such a big person Mark showed obvious signs of frailty.’

  ‘Why do you say that?’

  ‘Well,’ Freddie said, his air of easy jocularity breaking off. ‘There was at least one moment in particular when Isabella was asking if Mr Armstrong’s play was going to be anything like Agatha Christie’s novels Evil Under the Sun or Death on the Nile. I noticed a change coming over Mark. He winced and his face became quite pale. It was fleeting as if he’d just seen a ghost! I again noticed that same change coming over Mark when Laura addressed her mother. It was quite eerie!’

  Giles shook his head. ‘Can’t fathom what Laura could have possibly said to cause such a change in Mark’s demeanour, Freddie. Something that could make you aware of what you call a frailty. You’re putting me about you rascal. You’re talking in riddles and expecting me to think of you as the great clairvoyant. The undisputed king of things to come. Come off it.’

  ‘Not sure myself really. For all Laura said was ‘’Can I get you something, Mummy’’ or words to that effect?’

  Startled, Giles didn’t answer.

  ‘What are you thinking Giles?’

  ‘Mark’s reaction. How very odd.’

  ‘From your expression Giles I gather you’re putting two and two together. Am I right? Though I can’t even imagine what you’re adding up.’

  ‘Just a hunch.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘Later, Freddie. We’d better join the others in the lounge.’

  The next few minutes were spent explaining everything Mark had said about the tale of the curse. Freddie listened intently without saying a word. That is – until the White Star liner Titanic was mentioned and Giles insisted he had serious doubts about any connection between a ship and the rather difficult-to-explain curse of an Egyptian mummy.

  The significant twinkle in Freddie’s eyes was enough evidence to Giles that he was about to expound a possible connection that might clarify things relating to a mystery about a supposedly unsinkable liner and an Egyptian princess. A theory that might just present a plausible explanation of a far-fetched tale of doubtful origin.

  Looking at his friend Giles pursed his lips and nodded gently. ‘Now it’s your turn to add a little information,’ he said. ‘That’s why we’ve been such friends for so long. Come on Freddie – spill the beans.’

  ‘This may or may not have any bearing in relation to this bizarre and ghostly tale of Mark’s.’ Freddie paused before continuing. ‘But come to think of it,’ he paused again and his expression took on a strange look as if he was suddenly becoming aware that what he was about to say might just have a significant relevance to the Titanic disaster. ‘I’m not sure but…!’

  ‘I can always tell when you are about to say something important Freddie.’ Laura winked at Giles as she spoke in a lower tone. ‘Something, Freddie, which can usually put a different slant on things. So out with it. Don’t beat about the bush.’

  Freddie glanced, first at Laura’s mother who’d nodded off in her chair, then at his two friends who were waiting with anticipation for an inspired piece of Freddie’s logic. ‘What I’m about to relate may not have any real bearing on Mark’s tale of woe but it strikes me as an unusual set of circumstances that could explain a few things. But only…’ his head shaking gently from side to side. ‘… only if one believes in the curse of this mummy.’

  ‘Go on, Freddie,’ Giles reiterated with a nod.

  ‘Yes, please do,’ said Laura excitedly.

  ‘Well,’ said Freddie, clasping his hands and furrowing his brow in tense concentration. ‘A little over a year after the tragic sinking of the Titanic, the Derby, run at Epsom, had a momentous running during which a tragedy of devastating proportions occurred and the race ended with the disqualification of the winning horse.’ He paused as he looked at his listeners as if waiting to see a reaction.

  ‘Carry on. Let’s hear all about it and we’ll judge what, if any, significance there is…!’ Giles cautioned his friend.

  Encouraged, Freddie continued with his dramatic account of the 1913 Derby. ‘As the runners approached Tattenham Corner a lady left the watching crowd ducked under the rails and went on to the racecourse as the field came thundering round. She appeared to step into the path of the King’s horse, Anmer; the horse was brought down, the jockey injured and the lady so badly hurt that she died in hospital a few days later. The lady was a suffragette named Emily Davison.’ Freddie paused once more and licked parched lips. Laura rose, went over to the drinks cabinet, poured a brandy and brought it over to the thankful Freddie. Giles, with one eyebrow raised gave Laura the only sign required for her to produce the same measure for himself.

 
Freddie, with both hands around the glass, lifted the crystal to his lips and took a sip. When he was certain that his attentive audience was ready he started where he’d left off. ‘With Anmer and its jockey out of the race and the suffragette still on the ground being attended to, the remainder of the runners carried on to the end where there was a minor scrimmage and in a close finish, the favourite Aboyeur beat the outsider Craganour.’ Freddie paused again taking another sip from his glass. ‘But that wasn’t the end,’ he said watching his captive audience and knowing they were listening intently to his every word. ‘It was anything but the end for shortly afterwards there was an objection to the winner and the objection didn’t come from the rider or owner of the horse finishing, second.’ Freddie paused for effect. ‘The objection, unusual in a race of world-wide renown, came from the Stewards of the Jockey Club present at the Derby. After a short delay Aboyeur was disqualified and the race awarded to the 100-1 outsider Craganour.’

  Giles and Laura looked at each other, eyebrows raised in query.

  ‘You tell a fair story, Freddie,’ giving his friend the proverbial pat on the back. ‘I know you’ve told it as it happened. But I’m afraid I fail to see what connection the Derby mishaps could have with the Titanic.’

  ‘I thought you’d say that and you have every right to doubt any connection. Every right.’ Freddie took another sip from his glass. ‘Every right, because I haven’t told you everything. I’ve left one thing out that might have you changing your mind.’

  ‘Don’t keep us in suspense,’ said Laura, eagerly awaiting the dénouement, ‘I have enough problems with my Giles!’

  ‘Well,’ Freddie said with some dignity. ‘The liner Titanic was a White Star ship and the White Star owners were the Ismay Family. After the sinking of the ship there was much public outrage of the Ismay family particularly as Joseph Bruce Ismay, who sailed on the ship, had dramatically survived while so many others had perished.’ Freddie paused to let what he’d already said sink in.

  ‘I can’t say I’ve got your drift, Freddie. Is there a punch line or am I missing something? What haven’t you told us? What have you deliberately left out?’

  Throwing back his shoulders and beaming all over his face Freddie spoke in his serious tone. ‘Simply this,’ he said. ‘The winner of The Derby the year after the Titanic disaster, the winner that was disqualified by the Stewards for something that appeared trivial to those watching the race – well that horse was owned by Charles Bower Ismay, the younger brother of J Bruce Ismay who survived the Titanic disaster. The Epsom stewards never gave an explanation of why they disqualified the favourite and many wondered if there was some kind of a curse involved.’

  Chapter 4

  NOTHING ROMANTIC ABOUT MURDER

  As September drifted slowly towards October Giles was summoned to London to give a series of lectures on the history of magic plus a special interview for a well-known magazine interested in doing a revue of his extraordinary solution to the mysterious events that had astonished a circus world. The world of the Circus Tropicana where the strange goings-on defied the description evoked by the name Tropicana. A world that had started in a Devon airfield that never was (according to the Air Ministry) and travelled to a remote Scottish island castle before moving to the city of York and climaxing at Alexandra Palace.

  His short stay in his South Kensington flat would not go amiss despite the absence of Laura. He would expect a visit by Freddie at some time and his magical lectures would be a revelation and a pleasure for him. As he pondered over the magazine interview any thoughts he had of the increased interest by the public of his prowess as a detective gradually dissolved. He steadily believed his deductions were as everyone seemed to agree they were. His train of thought, however, took him on a journey back in time to a land where pharaohs lived and died. And when they died and were buried entombed in mummified form only to be discovered hundreds of years later by archaeologists on whom was laid a curse. A curse that supposedly had an effect on entire families of those who’d vandalised the pharaohs’ tombs. Such a curse as the one Mark Armstrong believed he was plagued with. Is it just possible that Mark’s play could have a disastrous consequence plunging the one bringing a visual spectacle to the production into another morass requiring his detective acumen?

  On his second day in London Giles returned to his flat after giving an interview with a lady journalist from a leading magazine – a magazine widely read by a public who would soon be conscious of his exploits in solving mysteries that, at first glance, appeared to be impossible.

  He was hardly in the door and was about to pour himself a drink when the phone rang. It was Freddie who had had an unsuccessful day at the races and needed to speak about something that had disturbed him after talking with Mark Armstrong.

  ‘Come over, Freddie. I have a strange premonition that our thoughts may be coincidental.’

  ‘Well if they are you could conceivably be in a spot of bother old son. This is no time to be scared… but that time might come! Give me half-an-hour and I’ll be with you. And do me a favour and have the drinks ready!’ Everything went quiet as the phone at the other end was slammed down. Giles knew Freddie would waste no time in coming across. He consulted his watch, smiling with pleasure. This was exactly what Giles treasured in his life. A tête-à-tête with Freddie was the adrenaline rush that made life worth living.

  A believer in premonition despite his scepticism Giles sat back in his comfortable chair, closed his eyes and let his mind dwell on the two convictions he’d mentioned when he’d spoken to his friend just a few moments ago.

  Premonition and coincidence had already played such an important factor in the two occurrences he had recently been involved in as a detective. Was it now inevitable that he might conceivably be embroiled in a happening he was not being asked to find a solution to? Was there a danger sign ahead warning him of consequences outside his control? Yet what could possibly go wrong in designing a series of magical illusions for a stage play intent on entertaining a paying audience?

  The door to his flat closed with a thud bringing Giles out of his tense concentration. Freddie entered the room throwing his coat off as Giles struggled to his feet to greet his friend before moving to the drinks cabinet.

  ‘The usual, Freddie? A wee dram to drown your sorrows, before we confide in each other?’

  ‘The usual will do nicely. Simply magic! But I’ve had worse days at the races and a losing spell I can take on the chin. What concerns me are the thoughts the future may hold after meeting with a playwright who appears to be beleaguered by a curse.’

  Having poured the drinks Giles turned and handed Freddie a glass of Scotch whisky.

  ‘Concerned, Freddie? I’ve never known you to really be concerned about anything.’

  Raising his glass, Freddie clinked glasses with Giles before sipping his twelve year old single malt with obvious pleasure. Easing himself into a chair and crossing his legs he glanced across surreptitiously. His air of easy jocularity broke off. ‘Don’t get me wrong,’ he spoke in a lower tone, ‘but something about that Mark Armstrong, to say the very least, struck me as odd.’

  ‘My dear Freddie, you’re deliberately mimicking what I’m usually accused of. You’re talking in riddles you old scallywag.’

  ‘That may be true but don’t you think there’s a distinct possibility that someone troubled by a so-called curse might well discover that anything or anyone involved may also have been influenced by such a curse!’

  ‘I’m not sure anything happening with this play could possibly be detrimental to my future.’

  ‘Nothing is clear to me my dear Giles… but just supposing this play was to have so many drawbacks which could delay this wedding of yours and create in Laura a doubt.’

  ‘I’ve had the same doubts, Freddie, but I can’t, for the life of me, anticipate any danger when all I’m doing is exactly what I want to do. I’ll be on my guard though. I’ll make sure all is precisely as I think it should be and
let them get on with it. Laura and I can then tie the knot and at long last your ribbing about my constant failure in the romantic stakes will be a thing of the past.’ Giles leaned back; his face breaking into a pleasurable grin as he took a swig of whisky.

  ‘That will be an absolute pleasure, but you really have to admit you’ve been a bit uncomfortable where the female of the species is concerned.’

  ‘Touché!’

  ‘Come to think of it I now have a dilemma. I’ll have to latch on to some other mischief to tease you with,’ Freddie said humorously.

  ‘No doubt you’ll find some way to make me jump through the hoop.’

  ‘To get back to the serious business of this play, Giles, have you any idea when you’ll meet the cast and have a reading of the play?’

  ‘Not really. But it won’t be long. I’m pretty sure of that. I must know where I can introduce special illusions that can enhance the production and at least one illusion has to be demonstrated for Isabella’s birthday celebration on the last day of October. I wouldn’t want to let her down.’

  ‘You won’t Giles. You never do. I’ve known you long enough to know you’re a man of your word.’

  ‘Let’s just hope I can continue to play my trump card.’ Giles raised one eyebrow and pursed his lips in a half smile.

  Taking another sip of the amber nectar Freddie hesitated and seemed uneasy. ‘Do you have to attend rehearsals… and have you any idea where they’ll be held assuming, of course, that they’ll want to hold these in a theatre?’

  ‘No, I’m afraid I don’t.’ Giles seemed to grope after thoughts before continuing. ‘As far as I know once the read through of the play has given me the necessary gen where possible illusions would enhance the production they’ll try them out in a theatre as soon as possible.’

  ‘Do you know if they have a theatre in mind?’

  ‘Mark never said. I’m fairly sure he and his co-playwright will have some idea but that was never mentioned.’