The Statue of Three Lies

by David Cargill

  ‘Yes, I do know that, I was joking!’

  Conrad buried himself behind the newsprint once more only to reappear seconds later.

  ‘Which reminds me,’ he said, ‘perhaps your absent-minded professor friend could tell us if he was joking when he told us he knew who had killed Father!’

  ‘No, Conrad, I wasn’t joking. As a matter of fact I don’t consider this a joking matter. But let me correct you. I didn’t say I knew who killed your father. At this stage I can’t be that certain. What I did say was I believed I knew and that’s as far as I’m prepared to go. What I require to find out is why and how and I’m as far from knowing the answers to those two questions as I was when I arrived here two days ago.’

  ‘You really mean you’re guessing so why not admit it!’ Victor didn’t wait for a response but continued to provoke his one-time boyhood companion.

  ‘You’re hoping for some kind of coincidence to set you in the direction of a trumped-up solution to add weight to what is only an imagined theory. Isn’t that it? All weekend you’ve done nothing but encourage discussion about coincidence as if it was the be-all and end-all of many of the unique events in our entire history!’

  ‘Nothing of the kind!’ Giles countered Victor’s lunge like a skilled swordsman changing from parry to riposte. ‘What I do anticipate though is that along the way some apparently insignificant incident or chance remark might occur to trigger off a thought that will lead me towards a solution. It’s simply a question of keeping eyes and ears open before following up with sound judgement. And let me make one final comment. If you continue with your taunting outbursts, Victor, you may well provide me with exactly what I’m looking for!’

  Edgar, who had finished setting up the alphabet and chairs for those participating in the seance, came across and joined in the conversation.

  ‘Everything is ready!’ he announced. ‘But, before we try to communicate with the dead, can I suggest we try to extract some information from the living; that is if Giles has no strong objections about telling us about his word association game from last night!’

  ‘No, I have no objections but I’m not sure if it would mean much to you. I really haven’t had time to study the results nor have I arrived at any conclusions! Please be warned, though, I have no intention of divulging what each of you wrote down. Anyway you could easily consult each other if you so wished. What I will do is mention some of the answers without disclosing any names.’

  Giles looked at expressions ranging from mild interest to spontaneous indifference.

  ‘For instance I gave you five words and asked you to write down the first thing that came into your heads when you heard each word. The first word was black and some of your ideas included blackmail, black widow and blackout, which can refer to temporary loss of consciousness or the use of screens in wartime to prevent light escaping from buildings that might be seen by enemy aircraft. The next word was fire and two of you gave me escape whilst there were a variety of interesting jottings including fire walking which, as any self-respecting magician or illusionist knows is a phenomenon ranking alongside The Indian Rope Trick. After that came shot and replies were predictable ones like shotgun and gunshot but one intrigued me and that was shot in the dark with a question mark against it...a reference to my attempts at solving this puzzle perhaps?’

  The Prof took a sip of coffee from the cup handed to him and a wry smile flickered across his lips before continuing.

  ‘The word thirteen had a fairly unanimous response. Unlucky being the choice of most of you though there was another word used that interested me a lot! The final word Boston produced what I would have expected even to show associations that were slightly off the mark as far as accuracy was concerned. It is entirely possible that the real significance of what they reveal will not become clear until after I travel to America.’

  ‘So you’re going to the United States? Well, well, well! I assume that will entail a visit to Boston, no doubt!’ Victor came forward and removed Giles’ empty coffee cup as he spoke.

  ‘Yes!’ The Prof said, clearing his throat. ‘Although I haven’t the slightest idea when that will be!’

  Laura, who had remained very quiet throughout The Profs explanation of the word association game, came to life and fixed him with her stare.

  ‘I have some questions I’d like answers to!’

  ‘I’m listening!’

  ‘I would like to ask you why you haven’t made any attempt to find out what each member of this household does in respect of career, social attributes, personality and such like and the opinions and recollections of the events of the night Daddy died. After all it’s twenty years or more since we all met and some of this family have no acquaintance with you whatsoever; surely it’s reasonable to assume that we have changed considerably in that time and the more information you glean could enhance the whole picture and give you a better understanding of what really took place and set our minds at rest!’

  A flush of anger was starting to appear amongst the pallor of Laura’s cheeks with her extensive question matching the fieriness of her hair colouring. Giles could feel her eyes boring into him.

  ‘You’re quite right Laura. It has been remiss of me,’ Giles said, trying to take the sting out of the confrontation. ‘I have been preoccupied with other things, I’m afraid, but I intend to correct that. Up until now I’ve been content to keep my eyes and ears open, to watch and listen and absorb as much information as I can without extraneous knowledge interfering with my train of thought, but with the co-operation of everyone in this room, I’d like to spend some time with each of you individually, say tomorrow morning, when I can get to know you all better and ask a few questions. Unlike my little word game you will now have time to prepare your answers and decide how you perceived the events that happened fourteen years ago to the day!’

  ‘I usually have a late rise on my birthday,’ Mrs. Ramsden said. ‘So you can use this room for your interrogation, Giles. I’m sure Doreen will have the fire burning soon after breakfast.’

  ‘That’s all settled then, Isabella, and I’ll speak to each of you in any order you choose. There’s just one preference I want adhered to in the order of things; I believe I should meet firstly with Laura and then Sally as I know they both have a long day ahead preparing the library for tomorrow night’s birthday illusion.’

  ‘Thanks for being so open, Giles.’ Laura said. ‘I hope you can be just as open in answer to my next question!’

  ‘I’ll try!’

  ‘Your party game of last night and your comments about the words chosen leave me slightly puzzled and I know how much you enjoy a cryptic conundrum, but could you expand a little more about what you expect to gain from our answers?’

  As she made her point there was a change of expression on Laura’s face that seemed to suggest to him that she suspected what he was up to, because of something in their past, and desperately wished confirmation. It was almost as if she’d changed sides, from being the aggressor in her first question to joining forces with him once again. He hoped the look in his eyes and the imperceptible nod of his head signalled his understanding before giving his reply.

  ‘You may not recognise it but both your questions are, in a way, interlinked. Your first question virtually accused me of being remote and neglecting the purpose of my return to Maskelyne Hall and the answer to your second will, I hope, alleviate your doubts.’

  Giles put a hand to his mouth and coughed.

  ‘Funnily enough,’ he continued, ‘it was your father who made me understand how human nature acts and reacts and just how powerful autosuggestion can be to the mind; a wonderful tool in the hands of an illusionist. You must remember the game we played in this very room as kids, when someone had to sit on a chair and be blindfolded and told to prepare for a flying trip around the room. Two people would lift the chair off the floor and carry it a short distance until your dad would call out a warning that things were a bit out of control, getting higher a
nd much too close to the ceiling, after which he would tap the victim on the head with a book before the chair was brought to rest on the floor and the blindfold removed, usually accompanied by guffaws of laughter. It was all great fun and to someone young and impressionable it could prove to be quite a sensation.’

  ‘Years later I heard a radio play which concerned a young man who wished to become a member of a secret society but had to undergo an initiation ceremony that involved being bound hand and foot to a chair and warned that, to pass his test, he must endure being branded on the forehead with a red hot iron. Everything was prepared; a branding iron placed in the fire amongst red-hot coals until he could observe the metal glowing to a fiery red then white before a blindfold was tied across his eyes. Despite the fact that no brand marks were visible on any member of the society and logic told him that he was being tested to see how far he was prepared to play their game, some doubt started to creep in. When he heard the branding iron being removed from the fire and was able to feel the searing heat close to his head he was bracing himself to call their bluff when, without warning, a block of ice was placed on his brow forcing screams of shocked horror; a prelude to a heart attack caused by an inability to differentiate between extremes of temperature when the mind had already been programmed to expect a particular result!’

  ‘Spooky!’ Mabel’s single word was spoken with less than her normal animation and was accompanied by muted hollow laughter.

  Giles cleared his throat and looked directly at Laura.

  ‘My own little game of words was because of my belief in the power of auto-suggestion and I was hoping my careful selection of words might give me some hint or clue that I wouldn’t otherwise get from direct questioning. As I said before it could be some time before I can reveal the success or failure of my experiment but I’m convinced it was a game worth playing! I’m not sure if that explanation satisfies you, Laura, but I’m afraid it will have to do for the moment. Now was there anything else you wanted to ask before we play Victor’s little game?’

  ‘Yes, but I’m afraid it’s rather personal!’ Laura looked at him and there was a distinct glint of mischief in her eyes.

  He raised his eyebrows but didn’t make any comment. There was a hush of expectancy in the room, as everyone appeared to be anticipating a question that Giles might be reluctant to answer.

  ‘Why have you never married?’

  The silence, in the room, was deafening. That is until Victor drained the remains of his drink and put his empty glass down.

  ‘I’m sure all of us would like to hear the answer to that one,’ he said. ‘What secret are you hiding from us?’

  The crackling of the log fire remained the only sound to be heard. The Prof stroked his chin and seemed to be weighing up the words that would be appropriate when Freddie got to his feet. ‘If Giles will allow me,’ he said, ‘I can answer for him!’

  ‘That will not be necessary! Although it always brings back some painful memories I think I can handle it in this present company.’

  ‘Well bravo for you, Giles.’ Victor retorted with what sounded like cynicism. ‘Did your beloved desert you? Was that it?’

  ‘Not quite!’ Giles paused and his eyes caught Laura’s attention. ‘It was sometime ago...her name was Linda and we were engaged to be married...’ His speech faltered and he was silent for a few seconds.

  ‘She was very much involved with horses and it was she who taught me to ride. It was at a Point-to-Point meeting that she suffered the dreadful fall...she never recovered.’ He looked across at Laura and summoned up a smile. ‘So I suppose Victor is correct when he suggested that she deserted me.’

  ‘Well I’ll be damned!’ Victor exclaimed. ‘Can you believe it? We’ve almost had another of The Profs coincidences. Two girls in his life with names beginning with the letter L and both having serious falls from horses jumping fences; one dying and the other God knows how close to death. You must be lucky at cards, Giles, because you’re certainly a loser when it comes to love!’

  ‘Wrong, Victor!’ Conrad corrected his elder brother. ‘Didn’t he and Laura lose at Bridge the other day though, I must admit, his mind seemed to be elsewhere?’

  ‘Stop it, both of you!’ Laura interjected. ‘You’re behaving like petulant schoolboys.’ She looked straight at Giles and her expression softened. ‘I’m sorry. I was totally out of order to ask such a question.. .I hope you’ll forgive me?’

  ‘There’s nothing to forgive. Throughout tomorrow morning it will be my turn to ask each and every one of you many questions about your opinions regarding the happenings at Maskelyne Hall exactly fourteen years ago when the magician father of this house was inexplicably struck down. May I suggest it is now time to put your questions to him!’

  Chapter 11

  CIRCLE OF SUSPECTS

  Every person that was present at Maskelyne Hall, fourteen years ago, now sat around the polished mahogany drop-leaf table or was in the room watching them; every person, that is, except Jack Ramsden, erstwhile cabinet maker, magician and illusionist, husband and father. And Jack Ramsden, who died from a gunshot wound on Allhallows’ Eve in 1952, was now to be summoned to account by those taking part in this charade in a macabre attempt to glean the truth about the events of that night that had, so far, remained an unsolved mystery to all but at least one of them.

  With his hands dug deep in his trouser pockets, Giles, who had declined the invitation to join the group, stood with his back to the log fire and watched as Victor organised the seating arrangement of the nine people associated with the household.

  It had been unanimously agreed that an independent observer should make the number up to ten and Freddie had consented to participate instead of The Prof, who was convinced that his long-time friend would not only make the perfect understudy but was the only person at the table he could unequivocally rule out as a potential suspect of any crime that may have been committed in the house all those years ago.

  After some amusingly chaotic movement reminiscent of childhood musical chairs Victor finally had everyone seated to his satisfaction.

  Isabella was on his left farthest away and facing directly towards Giles. She sat straight-backed and tight lipped with her hands folded together on the edge of the table in front of her. Giles was rather surprised that she had consented to take part in the experiment and scrutinised her features for any signs of explanation. There were none. She was impassive.

  Next to her sat groom and handyman George Gardner, looking decidedly uncomfortable, his weather-beaten craggy face and white hair in stark contrast to the pale features and fiery auburn hair of Laura who was seated on his left.

  Beside her, Freddie was relaxed and in conversation with Conrad’s wife, Mabel, who, along with Edgar who was next, had their backs to Giles.

  Doreen Gardner, cook and housekeeper for as long as anyone could remember, fidgeted with her hair and seemed a little agitated as she sat between Edgar to her right and Conrad to her left. Completing the “circle” Sally sat silent and composed as she listened to Victor offering some advice.

  Victor looked up and rapped loudly on the table making Mabel jump a little. ‘As we all seem to be ready let me explain what I want you to do. Before we start each of you must place your right forefinger on the base of the upturned glass and keep it there, no matter what happens. I shall ask the first question and we’ll wait to see what happens. If the glass moves and spells out a word that makes sense we’re in business. After I’m finished each of you may ask a question but keep them short and look for answers such as yes or no. If nothing happens we’ll call it a day! Does that seem reasonable?’

  ‘I’m sure everyone is satisfied with that,’ Isabella confirmed as she acknowledged the nodding heads. ‘But I trust that, no matter how everything progresses, you will all excuse me when it comes to my bedtime as I wish to retire before midnight.’

  ‘There will be no problems there,’ Victor assured her. ‘Before we begin, however, I must ask you a
ll to remain silent if the glass moves and not to press too hard with your fingers.’

  There were murmurs of consent all round.

  ‘Will you now place your right index finger on the glass.’

  Silence descended and the only sounds audible were those of increased breathing and the burning logs in the fire that were creating flickering images across the expectant faces around an alphabet of playing cards placed on the reflective mahogany surface.

  Ten fingers were placed on the upturned wine glass and Victor took this as a signal to start proceedings.

  ‘Is anyone willing to speak to us from beyond the grave?’ he asked. As if on cue his question was punctuated by a crack of thunder that seemed much closer than before.

  Giles kept his eyes firmly on the glass but, other than an imperceptible tremble, there was no movement.

  Ten pairs of eyes made involuntary and fleeting contact with each other around the table before Victor asked another question.

  ‘Is there anyone there?’

  This time, after a brief pause, the glass moved slowly on the spot as if trying to ascertain just how smoothly it could travel before gliding towards George and settling finally at the letter...Y. The look of wary incredulity on the face of the little groom as he crinkled the outer corners of his eyes and the ice-cold scowl of Isabella had just enough time to register with Giles before the glass moved hesitantly across to Sally and the letter...E. It barely stopped before gliding at speed towards the...S, close to where Freddie sat. He stared at the Lexicon card then glanced sideways at Giles and smiled. Both men had attended similar bogus meetings of this nature to conclude that someone was pushing the glass. That much was obvious! But the question was.. .who? And why? Was it a prank? Or was it a carefully orchestrated effort to confuse The Prof and throw him off the scent. Someone - perhaps more than one - was conspiring to play a game with him? If so it was a game he dared not lose! It was a time for vigilance!