The Statue of Three Lies Page 7

  It was a Short Magazine Lee Enfield or SMLE Mk 111, simplified to allow mass production and used during the Second World War. It was a .303 calibre rifle with a turn bolt system using ammunition clips of five yet capable of firing single rounds. Closer inspection revealed slight modifications but examination of the stand convinced The Prof that it would not, realistically, have withstood the recoil from the firing of this type of rifle, without some additional means of support. It interested him that Jack had changed from using a front-loading weapon, which had been used in the Chung Ling Soo act, to this type of rifle that he’d used in training exercises. He knew the capabilities of the gun and, even with refinements, doubted its use as an implement of suicide.

  Satisfied that he had achieved what he came for he was about to end his inspection of the dead man’s collection of priceless stage props when his peripheral vision instinctively drew him towards a group of devices that seemed to belong to a medieval torture chamber.

  The Rack was the first thing he saw. It comprised an open, horizontal wooden frame on which a person would be placed.

  Moveable bars at each end allowed wrists and ankles to be tied and levers were used to stretch the victim in opposite directions. This means of torture had been used in olden days to extract confessions of heresy and The Prof was now gazing in awe at a piece of apparatus made to create the equivalent of Sawing a Woman in Half.

  Alongside, in an upright position, was a hinged box shaped like something that would have contained an Egyptian Mummy. The box was closed and, at the back, he could see the sharp points of metal spikes that poked through holes. He was ready to open the front and check inside when the noise, heard earlier, happened again.

  It was closer to him this time and, as he looked upwards, he only had time to grasp that it was too late! Whatever it was that hit him was heavy! It crashed down and caught him a blow to the temple! Not enough to kill him but enough to cause him to have the ‘lights’ go out and lose consciousness!

  When he came to, it was the perfume he recognized first. He could only have been out for seconds, certainly not more than a minute or two, when he saw the face looking down at him! It was the same face he’d seen at the library window when he was examining the safe. It was Laura!

  As the inky blackness cleared he wondered why she was looking down at him from a strange angle? And then he knew...fear! He was lying on his back... in a coffin! Laura was bending over him and the lid of the coffin was high above her head and iron spikes were sprouting from inside the lid.

  ‘Come on, Giles,’ a voice was saying, ‘let’s get you out of there before that thing comes down on you!’

  With her help he climbed out of the box.

  ‘Naughty boy!’ she said wiping a trickle of blood from his forehead. ‘You shouldn’t have got involved with The Iron Maiden! You never know where she’s been! Anyway, Daddy always said it was dangerous to play in here!’

  ‘I thought I heard you come in!’ he said and winced as she applied a bit more first aid to his brow.

  ‘I rather doubt that! You were completely “out for the count” by the time I got here! I was coming to tell you there had been a phone call for you when I heard an almighty crash that seemed to come from the direction of the kitchen. By the time I was aware the noise had come from the cellar, and not the kitchen, I’d wasted a few seconds. When I looked in here you were nowhere to be seen; then I spotted the heap of weights and chains beside The Iron Maiden, which was lying on the floor, instead of being upright as she normally is. I heard a groan and hurried down here to find you wedged into the open box. If that lid had closed I shudder to think what might have happened!’

  ‘But how did I get in there?’

  ‘You were hit on the head, Giles, don’t you remember? I guess you’ve had a very lucky escape. That block and tackle, hanging from the ceiling, must have come loose. It probably wasn’t securely tied!’

  ‘Yes, but that still doesn’t explain how I ended up inside the box, does it! That box was closed when I was hit on the head. I’m sure it was!’

  ‘You were hit on the head, Giles! Your memory may be playing tricks on you!’

  ‘Unless....’

  ‘Unless what, Giles?’

  ‘Oh, nothing! I thought I’d heard someone earlier. Never mind!’

  ‘Let’s close the lid on this, Giles, and you can help me get the old girl on her feet again. After that you can hang on to me and we’ll get you out of here!’

  ‘Ready when you are!’

  She manoeuvred him clear of the prostrate “maiden” and closed the lid. The metallic crash reverberated throughout the cellar making The Prof shudder.

  ‘Did someone just walk over your grave?’ she asked as she tightened her hold on his arm.

  ‘You could say that!’ he said responding to her touch. ‘You might be interested to know that I’m beginning to feel better already!’

  A decidedly groggy professor helped Laura get The Iron Maiden into the upright position again before he spoke once more.

  ‘You said you were coming to tell me about a phone call!’

  ‘Yes, it was Freddie, Freddie Oldsworth. He said he was phoning from Stockton racecourse but I told him you were otherwise engaged!’

  ‘Do you know what he wanted?’

  ‘No, he didn’t say but mentioned he would ring back later. Now, if you think you’re well enough to walk with me perhaps we can go!’

  ’I was almost finished in here anyway!’

  Laura noticed the colour, which had drained from The Prof’s cheeks, was starting to return. She took a fresh grip on his arm and began to steer him towards the cellar steps.

  When they were at the top she switched off the lights, pushed him gently out into the hallway, then closed and locked the door.

  ‘Oh, I forgot to tell you, Edgar and Sally arrived when you were exploring the cellar.

  Edgar was very surprised to know you were here, you see we hadn’t mentioned you were coming for the weekend. He’s looking forward to meeting you again. They’ve gone to freshen up, so we’ll meet them when they come down.’

  Laura had another look at The Prof’s injured forehead, moistened her fingers by running them inside her lips before touching him tenderly on the area that now showed signs of bruising. ‘You’ll be as right as rain after a drink,’ she claimed, ‘and especially after I’ve practised my first aid on your fevered brow!’

  They headed for the lounge, arms entwined.

  Laura opened the lounge door, ushered The Prof inside and saw her mother reading by the fire.

  ‘Have we a place for the walking wounded, Mama?’

  ‘Goodness gracious!’ Isabella exclaimed with concern, ‘Whatever has happened? You look as if you’ve been in an accident!’

  ‘Yes mother, Giles had a minor disagreement with a maiden!’

  ‘Anyone I know? Or is that a secret?’

  ‘Can I just say that, in her time, she could be very persuasive!’ echoed Laura with a mischievous smile.

  Chapter 6

  DO YOU BELIEVE IN GHOSTS?

  The Prof knew that he was only dreaming; what else could it be? The sound of footsteps on the stairs coming ever closer to his bedroom; the quickening of his heart beat that produced deafening echoes deep down inside his ears and kept strict tempo with the throbbing in his temples. Ghostly fingers were turning the door handle to gain access to his...tomb! Was that what it was going to be? What is the room you enter without leaving? Wasn’t that part of Laura’s riddle? Was that really what it was going to be? His tomb! He had to open his eyes, to identify and confront this being! Was it a being with evil intent? He tried to shout; but no sound came! One final effort and The Prof was sitting bolt upright with beads of perspiration, cold and wet, the product of fear, on his brow.! But there was nothing at the foot of his bed and the door was still closed!

  He had been dreaming after all; but that had happened years ago! What was happening to him now was...well... different! Standing in fr
ont of him this time was The Grim Reaper; a personification of death. A cloaked figure...a skeleton? It could be a skeleton! It was certainly thin enough, cloaked from head to foot in black and holding.! A scythe? No, not a scythe.! Dear God, not a scythe...but a gun!

  It was a rifle: a .303 calibre rifle and one that he had fired at some time or other. He tried to think of the name. It was lethal! It was...?

  The Prof could only think he must be in a fairground. The figure holding the rifle was aiming at a target and he was standing in the way. He was standing in the way of The Reaper. And he couldn’t move! A kind of Aunt Sally; for a bullet!

  He shouted out. He could still do that .. .but it wasn’t his voice! It sounded like Jack! But Jack who? “No, no...don’t touch that...it might be.!” A shot rang out! It must have hit the target for the sound of the bell ringing was much too vivid to be just part of a dream. The bell was ringing, again and again and again! Then a hand on his shoulder was gently shaking him awake. The sweat was still there on his brow; the noise of his heart still pulsated in his ears and his temple still throbbed.!

  ‘It’s Freddie, Giles! He’s phoning from Stockton. Do you feel up to speaking to him?’

  Laura was gently coaxing him out of his nightmare.

  He rose from the comfort of the armchair. The double brandy, courtesy of Laura, had induced sleep that had continued into that nightmare!

  ‘Hello, Freddie, so sorry I missed you when you called earlier! Was there something you wanted?’

  ‘Well, yes. There was something. Something we talked about on Thursday. Is she or isn’t she?’

  ‘Come again, Freddie!’

  ‘Is she or isn’t she; pretty I mean?’

  The Prof looked across the room at Laura before he answered. Then, lowering his voice and covering the mouthpiece, he said, ‘Yes! Very!’

  ‘I’ll take your word for it, Giles!’

  There was a short pause before Freddie continued.

  ‘Now I know you’ve no transport, but I wondered if we could somehow meet up somewhere for the evening...say near Lockerbie. You see Penny has taken the girls to their Gran’s for the weekend.. ’

  ‘Hang on a minute, Freddie!’ He put a hand over the mouthpiece and turned to Laura.

  ‘Is there any way I can get into town and back again tonight?’

  ‘Well I could drive you there; but I have a better idea! Let me have a word with that man on the other end of the phone!’

  He handed the telephone over and left her to have a muted conversation with Freddie Oldsworth whilst he went to speak with Isabella. When he looked up again she had already put the receiver down and was looking quite smug as she came across.

  ’That’s settled then! I’ve given your friend in Stockton instructions and, if his sense of direction is as good as his racing knowledge, he’ll be here for dinner! We’ll make arrangements to give him a bed for the night once he gets here. Now then, if my ears don’t deceive me, I believe you are about to meet baby brother after more than twenty years!’

  Before The Prof had time to express his astonishment the lounge door flew open and, framed in the doorway was Edgar Ramsden, and his wife, Sally!

  There was little or no recognition between the two men as The Prof rose to face the comparative stranger standing in the doorway. More than twenty years had passed since they’d last seen each other and Edgar had only been eight or nine years old. He was now in his early thirties with dark brown hair, slightly balding, and a sallow complexion. He wore beige corduroy trousers, white shirt and chocolate brown cardigan with leather patches at the elbows. He appeared slight of stature; but then The Prof remembered him as a rather puny little boy, whilst his brothers, on the other hand, had always been in the “well built” category.

  Edgar’s wife, Sally was slim, dark haired and appeared an inch or two taller than her husband; probably an illusion, he thought! She wore a high-necked, knee length navy blue dress that accentuated her slimness and exaggerated her height. His initial thoughts were more about her striking resemblance to Laura: height, weight and shape were almost identical and, apart from the hair colouring, they could have passed as sisters. He could almost hear Freddie say, in his racing parlance, “She could be a dead ringer, old son!"

  There was an awkward silence before The Prof broke the ice.

  ‘Well how nice to meet you both. Now, in your case, I don’t think there’s much doubt about which one is Edgar and which is Sally!’

  ‘And you must be Giles. A real live professor! Allow me to introduce my wife!’

  ‘You seem to have been in the wars!’ Sally exclaimed as she closely examined the plaster adorning his forehead. ‘Dare I ask if that’s the handiwork of our very own Florence Nightingale?’ she continued, taking a peek at Laura.

  Edgar took a closer look at the bruising round the edge of the plaster.

  ‘How did you manage to do that and, more importantly, will you be fit enough to ride out on Delilah tomorrow morning? She’s quite a spirited mare, you know!’

  The Prof raised an enquiring eyebrow at this remark.

  ‘No I’m not clairvoyant, if that’s what you’re thinking!’ Edgar explained. ‘Sis told me you were going riding but that was before your accident!’

  ‘I have a funny feeling that he will make a miraculous recovery before then!’ said Laura. ‘Now why don’t we all sit down and compare notes! I’ll see if Mrs. Gardner can offer us afternoon tea!’

  As she left the room The Prof sat down opposite Edgar and Sally.

  ‘Sis was telling me you lecture in the history of magic!’ Edgar said with enthusiasm. ‘That means that, not to put too fine a point on it, we’re in the same line of business! More or less, wouldn’t you say?’

  ‘That sounds interesting! I’d like to hear more!’

  ‘Don’t believe a word he says, Giles! Big brother knows best!’ Victor swaggered into the room, smoking a cigarette. ‘Has Laura gone for the tea? I’m famished!’ He spotted the plaster on Giles’ forehead and his manner changed. ‘Well you look the worse for wear, I must say! Has the phantom of Maskelyne Hall got to you already?’ He produced a silver cigarette case, opened it and passed it across. ‘Cigarette? You certainly look as if you could do with a smoke!’

  ‘No, but thanks all the same! I stopped smoking cigarettes after I left the forces!’

  The lounge door opened again and Conrad and Mabel came in. Conrad was rubbing his hands.

  ‘We’ve been for a walk in the grounds and it’s damned cold out there. Never mind, I believe Laura’s bringing some tea.’

  ‘Edgar was about to tell me he’s in the magic business!’ The sound of cups and saucers, rattling on the tea trolley, drowned out the final words.

  ‘What was Edgar about to tell you when I made my noisy entrance?’ enquired a smiling Laura as she brought the trolley to a halt.

  ’He was about to let the cat out of the bag or, in his case, about to pull the rabbit out of the hat!

  All eyes turned to look in the direction of the unexpected voice.

  ‘I thought you were sound asleep, mother. I hope you weren’t disturbed!’

  ‘Don’t let that concern you, Laura. I’ve been listening to everything that’s been said. I was just resting my eyes.’

  Victor’s sonorous words interrupted the quiet conversation between mother and daughter. ‘What mother was referring to was the fact that Edgar runs a speciality shop; selling items of magic to budding amateurs in a busy part of Manchester!’

  ‘Yes, that is exactly what I was referring to, in my own mystical way; but also that Edgar’s wife runs a theatrical agency for dancers and magician’s assistants; something she has always been interested in! You could say that they’ve both continued the work of my dear Jack, since his abrupt demise!’

  ‘Do you understand, everyone,’ said Laura, changing the subject, ‘that this is the first time we have all been here in Maskelyne Hall since those war years. Not only do we have Giles back with us but we also have Mabel
and Sally as part of the family. Don’t you think that’s something we should celebrate?’

  ‘As the baby of the family I’ll certainly be ready to enjoy any party that celebrates us coming together again in the house where we all had so much fun as kids. And I know how much my wife Sally will join in.’

  Edgar paused in mid sentence.

  ‘...But I wonder if Giles can tell me why he’s come back to Maskelyne Hall?’

  ‘Giles might be a little embarrassed to do that; but I can do it for him!’

  The chilling voice of Victor was now the focus of attention for everyone in the room.

  ‘The Prof has come back, believe it or not, to try and prove that one of us...is a murderer!’

  If a pin had dropped it would have been deafening in the silence of that room at Maskelyne Hall as daylight began to fade on that last Saturday of October 1966.

  ‘Unless...!’

  ’Unless what?’ Several voices spoke as one.

  Mabel, who was in the process of pouring a cup of tea, stopped as if frozen in time, before finally allowing the lid of the teapot to clatter on to the metal tray of the trolley.

  All eyes moved to look at the petrified Mabel then back to Victor as he spoke again.

  ‘Unless....’ said Victor staring Giles in the eye, ‘unless...! Do you believe in ghosts, professor? Do any of you believe in ghosts? I think Father did! Excuse me for a moment, I’ve got something stashed away and I think we could all do with a drop!’

  With his jaw clamped tight Victor left the room in a stunned silence.

  ‘What was all that about?’ said Conrad as he helped Mabel tidy the tea things.

  ‘Big brother indulging in one of his idiosyncrasies; he does that from time to time,’ explained Laura. ‘It will all be forgotten when he gets back with another of his indulgencies and invites us to share in it!’

  Laura laid a comforting hand on The Prof’s arm.

  ‘Please forgive him, Giles. Another storm in a teacup!’As the significance of her final remark became obvious Laura allowed a forced giggle to emerge and looked at Mabel who appeared to be on the verge of bursting into tears at any minute.