Murder by Magic

by Paul Tomlinson

  “What did she say to that?” Malloy asked.

  “She said I was a fool. Young and foolish. I had my whole life ahead of me and I should throw it away because of her. But I could tell she didn’t mean it. She was so sad, Mr. Vickery.”

  “What happened then?” Malloy asked.

  “She kissed me and said, Goodbye Danny.” He looked up, his eyes bright with tears. “She walked away. I wanted to run after her, but I heard Marlene shouting my name. When I looked back, she was gone. And Marlene needed me to help with the act because Charlie hadn’t come back yet.”

  “All you had time to do was get ready for the performance?” Malloy asked.

  Danny nodded. “Marlene helped me into the costume and the make-up.”

  “Did you see Miss Lovelace again that day?” Vickery asked.

  “No. I had planned to go and find her after the show, but given what happened...”

  Vickery nodded.

  “But...” Danny said.

  “Yes?”

  “One of the stagehands said that he saw someone under the stage before the performance started. Just a glimpse, he said, of a woman with blonde hair. I think it was Abigail, Mr. Vickery.”

  “Miss Lovelace isn’t the only blonde-haired woman in the world, Danny. Assuming that it was a woman and not a blond-haired man.”

  “Thank you,” Danny said.

  “I am not just saying things to cheer you up,” Vickery said. “We must not make assumptions at this stage. For now, we concentrate only on gathering the evidence – and only later should we piece it together and try to discern its pattern.”

  “When did you next see Abigail Lovelace?” Malloy asked.

  “I didn’t see her for a couple of days,” Danny said. “The day after the – after it happened, I spent most of the time speaking with the police. I really wanted to go and see Marlene – she’d just lost her husband – but that crack on the head left me feeling sick in my stomach. I stayed at home and let Milly fuss over me.

  “The day after that, I was feeling better – but I still had a lump like a duck-egg. I went to find Abigail, but she wasn’t at home. Her landlady said Abigail didn’t want to see me – she thought I had treated her appallingly, I’m sure. I asked her where I might find Abigail, but she told me to go away.”

  “Or words to that effect?” Malloy said.

  Danny smiled weakly. “That was the point when I started thinking how little I knew about her,” he said. “I didn’t know where she worked. Or if she worked. She told me she didn’t have to worry about money, because ‘daddy is rich.’ But then another time, she said her father had died – years ago. There were other little things like that.”

  “Inconsistencies,” Vickery said.

  Danny nodded. “Everyone’s entitled to their secrets, aren’t they? But given the circumstances...”

  “You begin to wonder,” Malloy said.

  “When did you finally catch up with her again?” Vickery asked.

  “The following day,” Danny said. “I waited for her – near where she lived. I waited all day.”

  “Was she happy to see you?” Malloy asked.

  “I don’t think so,” Danny said. “She didn’t smile. She asked me if I was all right – felt the bump on my head. We walked. I don’t even remember where. She said I deserved an explanation, and that’s when she told me about – things in her past.” Danny looked down at his hands, rubbing the thumb of one across the knuckles of the other, over and over. “I don’t think I should tell you – it’s private.”

  “I won’t ask you to betray a confidence, Danny,” Vickery said. “Some of what she told you, I already know. And I can guess most of the rest. She told you she used to work for Raymond Skelhorn.”

  Danny nodded. “She said she hadn’t wanted to tell me – because I might think she wasn’t really interested in me. That she was only there to steal the secrets of Charlie’s illusions.”

  “Raymond Skelhorn was accused – more than once – of that sort of theft,” Vickery said, “though such things are difficult to prove.”

  “Do you know him – Skelhorn?” Danny asked.

  “I don’t regard him as a friend,” Vickery said, “but we are acquainted.”

  “Is he a violent man?” Danny asked. “Abigail was afraid of him, I’m sure of it. And she thought he was having her followed.”

  “Did she say why he might do that?” Vickery asked.

  “Not really. She said she used to work for him, but that she ‘got away.’ And that she never wanted to have to go back.”

  “That is consistent with what I know of Skelhorn’s character,” Vickery said. “When she worked for him, she would have found herself engaged in some sort of criminal activity – beginning small, but increasing in scope as Skelhorn came to trust her and depend on her.”

  Danny’s face burned red and he refused to meet Vickery’s eye.

  “I am not asking you to confirm my suppositions, Danny,” Vickery said.

  “I couldn’t,” Danny said.

  “A beautiful young woman like Miss Holcroft could easily have befriended another magician,” Vickery said, “become close to him, and then helped her employer take the secrets of that magician’s act.”

  “She didn’t want to do it!” Danny blurted. “I don’t think she even knew what she was doing. Not really. Skelhorn made her do it. She was afraid of him.”

  “I believe that,” Vickery said. He said nothing after that, waiting for Danny to continue speaking.

  “She – she told me she was responsible for a man’s death,” Danny said. “I don’t know what happened – but it affected her very deeply. She couldn’t talk about it. I think she ended up in the hospital because of it. And that’s when she got away from him.”

  “She changed her name and started a new life,” Malloy said.

  “But she was still afraid of him,” Danny said. “I think Skelhorn still has some sort of hold over her.”

  Vickery thought about what he had just heard, putting it together with what he already knew about Raymond Skelhorn. “I think if we look hard enough, we will find a magician whose death was ruled an accident or suicide by the coroner,” he said. “Miss Holcroft will have been acquainted with this man and will hold herself – at least partly – responsible for his death.

  “Skelhorn knows of her involvement, of course, because he was behind it. He will also know of her other unlawful activities, and in all likelihood, keeps evidence of her guilt,” Vickery said.

  “And he can use this to blackmail her,” Danny said, “force her to do things against her will. Other crimes even.”

  Vickery looked into Danny’s face. “I can see how you might draw that conclusion,” he said, “but I think you underestimate Miss Holcroft. No matter what hold Skelhorn has over her, I do not believe she could ever be coerced into committing murder.”

  Danny looked chastened by this. “You’re right,” he said. “I was just so afraid for her. How could I have thought she was guilty of murder?”

  “She will forgive you,” Malloy said. “What you did to protect her was very chivalrous.”

  “But stupid,” Danny said.

  “Let us say that it was ill-advised,” Vickery said. “What we need to do now is deal with the situation you have placed yourself in. Have you actually signed a confession?”

  “I gave a statement, and they are having it typed – I’m to read it and sign it,” Danny said.

  “I would advise you not to sign it,” Vickery said. “I’m going to ask a friend of mine to stop by and talk to you. He’s my solicitor – and he’s very good.”

  “I can’t afford...”

  Vickery waved a dismissive hand. “He’ll do it as a favour to me,” he said.

  “Solicitors don’t work for nothing,” Danny said.

  “Cedric has taken a great deal of money from me over the years,” Vickery said. “At the very least he’ll give me a discount this time.”

  Danny smiled. “All right
, I’ll talk to him. But I’m not going to withdraw my confession until I know Abigail is safe.”

  “I understand,” Vickery said. “We will return with news – good news, I hope – and soon.”

  *

  Upstairs in the police station, the air was warmer and there was more light, but the same smell of disinfectant lingered in the corridors. The walls were painted with thick glossy paint the colour of phlegm. Scarred desks and mismatched chairs filled the area used by the plain clothes officers.

  Detective Inspector Grives was unhappy that Vickery had used his influence to gain permission to speak with ‘his’ prisoner. But with Danny now in the cells below, Grives had regained some of his habitual arrogance. He favoured them with a smug smile.

  “Case closed, eh, Vickery?” he said.

  “I hardly think so, Inspector,” Vickery said. “Danny Holcroft is not guilty of murder.”

  “But he confessed!”

  “Yes, that’s very suspicious, don’t you think?” Vickery said.

  “Suspicious?”

  “Yes. It is almost as if he is trying to make a fool of you,” Vickery said.

  “Of me?”

  “Indeed. I would be very careful about accepting anything he says at face value.”

  “You would?”

  “This all troubles me greatly,” Vickery said. “I’m going to ask my solicitor to stop by and talk to him. You remember Cedric Stanthorpe?”

  “I’m not likely to forget him!” Grives said.

  “Good man to have on your side,” Vickery said. “He might be able to deduce what the boy is up to. Until then, I would make sure you don’t let him sign that confession.”

  “No?”

  “Delay him as long as you can. Something smells fishy here.”

  Grives sniffed loudly. “He’s trying to make me look a fool, you think?”

  “I’m certain of it,” Vickery said.

  “I’m not going to let anyone do that!”

  “Of course you’re not,” Vickery said, slapping him on the back, “good man.”

  “It would help if you didn’t stand there smirking, you know,” Vickery said as they walked out.

  “He couldn’t see me,” Malloy said.

  “No, but I could. How am I supposed to remain composed?”

  “Sorry, guv’nor,” Malloy said. “What did you make of all that?” he asked, nodding back towards the police station. “Why would he do something like that?”

  “Danny? For love,” Vickery said, “and because he is afraid for Abigail.”

  “But why now?”

  “Bristow’s death prompted it, I’m sure. If Raymond Skelhorn is behind this, he had Bristow killed in order to protect himself. Bristow told us he had evidence that would convict Skelhorn.”

  “Then if Abigail also knows something about Skelhorn’s crimes...”

  “She too is at risk,” Vickery said. “Danny Holcroft believes he can protect her by assuming responsibility for Charlie’s murder. If he is convicted, he thinks Skelhorn will leave Abigail Lovelace alone.”

  “Would he?” Malloy asked.

  “If Skelhorn believes she is a threat to him, he will not allow her to live.”

  “And Danny’s sacrifice would be in vain.”

  “We must see that it doesn’t come to that,” Vickery said.

  “We need to find out what she’s really hiding from everybody,” Malloy said. “Do you think Abigail could be in league with Skelhorn? Trying to seduce Danny and get him to join them so that Skelhorn can have Charlie’s magic tricks?”

  “They’re illusions, Jamie. But, yes, that sounds exactly like the sort of game plan Skelhorn would follow. Until we can speak to Miss Lovelace again, we can’t really know for sure. I’d also like to talk to those two men who abducted Danny – it would really help us to know who they are working for.”

  “I’d hate to think how many double-acts there are like them at work in the city,” Malloy said.

  Vickery stopped. “What did you say?”

  “Two big men in a little blue car – there must be loads of blokes fit that description.”

  “You said double-act.”

  “I did? I’ve spent too much time hanging around with theatre folk.”

  Vickery patted him on the arm. “You’re exactly right, Jamie. That’s how we narrow down our search for them – theatre folk. You can start at the Alhambra – don’t let Raymond Skelhorn know you’re there. Have a chat with that nice young man in the ticket office – I bet he knows everyone who works there.”

  “You aren’t coming with me?” Malloy asked.

  “I’m going to see what I can find out about the mysterious Miss Abigail Lovelace.”

  “But where will you look?”

  “An obvious place to find a stylish young woman,” Vickery said, “a hat shop.”

  “Are you telling me that you recognised the maker of her hat?”

  “Of course, didn’t you?”

  “Ladies’ fashions aren’t my area of expertise,” Malloy said.

  “See you back at the Crescent. I thought we might try an Oriental restaurant tonight.”

  “I don’t really like fish,” Malloy said.

  “I know that Jamie,” Vickery said and winked.

  Malloy watched him disappear into a hat shop a little further down the street. When he looked closer, he saw a display of hats in the window. In the centre was a hat identical to the one Abigail Lovelace had worn. Malloy laughed. “Sly old dog.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Vickery heard a voice calling behind him. “Ben! – Benjamin, it is you!” Vickery cursed under his breath, then turned, smiling.

  “Archie! It has been ages, how have you been?”

  Archie Wincombe was a short, rotund man. His face was dominated by a red-brown walrus moustache which made him look like he was peering over a dead hedge. He hurried towards Vickery, limping and using a rolled umbrella as a cane.

  “Haven’t been out much,” he gasped. “Gout, if you can believe it – in this day and age.”

  “You’ll have to cut back on the port, old chap.”

  “That’s what everyone’s saying. I’ve switched to brandy – doesn’t solve the problem, but it dulls the pain.” He chuckled. “Got time for a drinkie?”

  “I ought to be getting home,” Vickery said.

  Archie’s face fell and Vickery felt a twinge of guilt. He pulled out his pocket watch.

  “You’ve time for one, surely,” Archie wheedled. “We hardly ever see you in the club these days.”

  “I have to be away by seven at the latest,” Vickery said.

  “Capital!” Archie said. “The first one’s on me.”

  The Prospero Club has been founded, under a different name, during Queen Victoria’s reign, and electric lighting was the only visible change to the place since its opening. The oak panelling and bookshelves gave it the quiet twilight dignity of a library, with the added benefit of allowing one to have a drink with like-minded fellows.

  “This place hasn’t altered much,” Vickery said, looking around. They were sitting in a quiet corner of the almost silent ‘library’ room with their drinks. Archie sat with his foot up on a worn velvet stool.

  “You say that as if it’s a bad thing,” Archie said. “There is far too much change going on if you ask me. There’s nothing wrong with things as they are.”

  “Change is inescapable, I’m afraid,” Vickery said, “Life marches on, and we must try and keep up.”

  “Not all change is for the better though, is it?” Archie asked. “If anyone knows that, it’s you.”

  Vickery nodded silently. “Terry used to hate this place. He said it reeked of the establishment.”

  “He was always a bit of a lefty, though, wasn’t he?” Archie said. “He hardly ever wore a tie.”

  This made Vickery smile. He raised his whisky glass in silent salute, then took a sip. He grimaced.

  “They water it down, I’m sure of it,” Archie sai
d. “I’ve complained to the committee – what more can you do? A man doesn’t like to make waves at his own club.”

  “It proves that younger isn’t always better,” Vickery said. “Perhaps it’s better with soda?”

  “Good lord, no! Don’t dilute it any more,” Archie said, taking a good swallow of his. “It’s fine once it’s numbed your tongue.”

  “Do you still see Raymond Skelhorn in here?” Vickery asked, as casually as he could.

  “He keeps up his membership, but he never shows his face – not after all that fuss about him stealing another chap’s magic. That’s not the sort of thing a gentleman does, is it?”

  “Gentlemanly behaviour isn’t what it was,” Vickery said.

  “It doesn’t matter what you do Vickery, as long as it doesn’t harm your friends, and you don’t get caught doing it – that’s the old school motto, isn’t it?” Archie chuckled.

  “What’s the gossip these days?” Vickery asked.

  “There’s damn-all going on, as far as I can tell. The most interesting thing I’ve heard in months is that you’ve taken to the boards again.”

  “A limited engagement to help out an old friend,” Vickery said.

  “How is the Palais?” Archie asked. “Still a rat-hole?”

  “We’ve both played worse,” Vickery said. “You’re not tempted to get back on stage yourself?”

  “Not unless I can do it sitting down,” Archie said. “I’ll do card tricks in here sometimes of an evening, but I’ve no interest in performing anymore.”

  “Three nights at the Palais was enough for me,” Vickery said. “I enjoyed doing it, but I don’t feel any great need to continue doing it.”

  “I’m sorry I missed it,” Archie said. “Just you up there doing illusions, was it?” He asked, not at all casually, watching Vickery over the rim of his glass.

  “Don’t pretend you don’t know, Archie. I’m sure tongues have been wagging about my new assistant,” Vickery said.

  “Not as much as they did about the last one,” Archie said.

  “Yes, well, he was a mistake, wasn’t he?” Vickery said, smiling.