The Statue of Three Lies

by David Cargill

  ‘Yes I did!’ she replied. ‘And I’ll give you three guesses as to what happened!’

  ‘Don’t tell me! You didn’t, by any chance, have trouble on the rotary again, did you?’

  ‘Yes, I did! And you can wipe that grin off your face! I can never be absolutely sure who has the right of way!’

  ‘The rotary?’ Giles queried.

  ‘Something similar to your roundabout back in Britain but here the traffic circle is called the Suicide Circle.’ A.B. said with a resigned shrug of the shoulders.

  ‘And who does have the right of way?’ The Prof asked.

  A.B. looked at his wife before answering, a playful smile creating soft lines around his mouth. ‘Senior residents claim the right of way belongs to the oldest car with the most bumps!’

  ‘They’re not far wrong!’ said Jenny with a broad smile as she turned towards the kitchen.

  ‘How’s dinner coming along?’ her husband said, patting her bottom. ‘Smells fabulous!’

  ‘It won’t be long but you’ve both got time to freshen up...and drinks await!’

  Thanksgiving Dinner, of Roast Turkey with all the trimmings followed by Pumpkin Pie, was a truly memorable occasion that The Prof enjoyed, with his genuine friends of only a few days, without thoughts of a faraway killer flitting in and out of his fertile imagination. All such thoughts were exiled for the duration of the meal and only when the washing up was finished and coffee introduced did any of the threesome broach the subject of murder.

  ‘Did Alan do his party trick for you this afternoon, Giles? Did he entertain you with the bizarre coincidences of two of our popular Presidents?’

  ‘No, as a matter of fact, he didn’t - he did, however, recount intriguing and important anecdotes for which I am greatly indebted. I think he was saving the other stuff until later!’

  ‘Well, it’s now later so, I’m certain a minor twist of the arm is all that’s necessary for us to hear what I consider to be fascinating - so much so I don’t mind hearing it again and again! What do you say, Abe?’

  ‘The minor twist of the arm is not necessary but I wouldn’t say no to a drink and a twist of lemon - to lubricate the larynx, you understand!’

  The Harvard man, who was relishing a busman’s holiday in the confines of his own home, took the glass his wife handed across to him. He took a sip before starting to speak

  ‘When Jack Kennedy, one of our most popular Presidents was assassinated in Dallas three years ago, this very month, certain historians began to note many weird connections between that killing and the murder of another American President, Abraham Lincoln, almost 100 years before. Weird connections, I believe I said! I’ll let you be the judge of that!’ he murmured softly.

  ‘1. Both Lincoln and Kennedy were shot in the head on a Friday, in the presence of their wives.’ A.B. held an index finger aloft to emphasize the point.

  ‘2. Abe Lincoln was in a theatre when he was shot by a man who hid in a warehouse and Jack Kennedy was shot from a warehouse by a man who hid in a theatre.’

  ‘3. John Wilkes Booth, who shot Lincoln, was born in 1839 and Lee Harvey Oswald, who shot Kennedy, was born in 1939. Both assassins were from the South and in their twenties - and both men were shot dead before they were brought to trial!’ A.B. raised two more fingers.

  ‘4. Lincoln’s secretary, whose name was Kennedy, advised him not to go to the theatre while Kennedy’s secretary, whose name was Lincoln advised him not to go to Dallas!’ Berkeley now had four fingers in the air.

  ‘5. Both Presidents were succeeded by men called Johnson -Andrew Johnson followed Lincoln and Lyndon B. Johnson came after Kennedy.’

  ‘Give me five, pal!’ Jennifer said as she and her husband placed open palms together.

  ‘6. Abraham Lincoln was elected in 1860 and Jack Kennedy in 1960. Andrew Johnson, Lincoln’s successor, was born in 1808 and Lyndon B. Johnson, Kennedy’s successor, in 1908.’ Abe’s triumphant whoop of delight made a barnstorming finish.

  ‘And if that doesn’t satisfy your hunger for an amazing set of coincidences...’ Jennifer declared. ‘...Now hear this!’

  ‘Jack Kennedy,’ The American said, looking as if about to pull a rabbit out of a hat. ‘Jack Kennedy was shot while he was being driven in a Lincoln car!’

  He paused to allow the anticipated applause that invariably followed his collection of coincidences at Harvard, before concluding, ‘Unfortunately, try as I might, I haven’t been able to produce any evidence that Lincoln was shot in anything remotely resembling a Kennedy theatre or anything else with the name of Kennedy attached to it. But, never mind, the entire catalogue of coincidences are uniquely bizarre - don’t you think?’

  The Prof had a little chuckle at this last observation and was then reminded, by the criminologist, that this wouldn’t be a bad time to have a look at the results of the word game he’d conducted back in Scotland. He nodded and left the room.

  When he returned he was carrying a large sheet of paper folded in four. A.B. was standing with his back to the fire and, as The Prof unfolded the sheet and spread it out on his lap, Jennifer produced a coffee table and the paper was moved to the flatter surface.

  ‘I thought it best to transfer all the results to a single sheet that would make comparison easier.’

  ’Good thinking, Giles,’ A.B. said. ‘I hate working with tiny bits of paper!’

  ‘I’m not sure if this little experiment has produced anything significant but I’ll be glad to know what you think, especially as regards the answers covering the Boston question. One member of the group, taking part in the game, asked if it was a sort of lie-detector test without the machine, so I’d also be interested to have your opinion on the value of such a test.’

  ‘I intended doing that anyway, Giles!’ said the American taking a deep breath. ‘Before I take a look at your findings it is important that you are aware of the track record of the “polygraph” as an instrument of scientific accuracy.’ The criminologist was back in the lecture theatre.

  ‘As you may know, it is an instrument for measuring responses of the autonomic nervous system by recording blood pressure, pulse rate, respiration and electrical impulses of the skin but, as a means of determining if a person is telling lies or not, it seems deeply flawed. The theory is that when someone tells a lie certain uncontrollable reactions take place and, by measuring the electrical conductivity of the skin which we call the galvanic skin response, shown by such things as sweating and increase in blood flow that are linked to very strong emotions such as fear, we can come to a conclusion about who is lying and who is not.’

  The criminologist shook his head acknowledging the grin from his wife. ‘Unfortunately all it does is detect a change in metabolism and not whether a lie is being told. It’s cumbersome and can only be used by an expert - and they are thin on the ground. And, when it comes to a question about a specific crime - as say a shooting in your case, it may not be able to differentiate between someone who may have committed the crime and someone who may have witnessed it or known about it. It’s not reliable when trying to identify the mentally disturbed, the problem being identifying what is causing the disturbance nor is it of any use with the psychopathic liar. There are problems with those that are emotionally upset or those under medication and I’m afraid it only seems popular in detective fiction. In fact your word game may enjoy just as much success - if not more. So why don’t we have a look!’

  A.B. sat down to study the written document as The Prof moved aside to allow easier access; Jennifer came closer and looked over his shoulder.

  Both criminologist and attorney studied the contents for some considerable time in complete silence. At one stage A.B. produced a pad and pencil and started making some notes. As he did so he occasionally passed the pad across to his wife, receiving a nod or shake of the head, before continuing to scribble.

  When he was finished he placed the fingers of both hands on the document that read -

  Word Association Game - Key
Words

  A.B. placed the fingertips of both hands together, rose from his seat and, without uttering a sound, started to pace up and down like a caged lion. He stopped and turned, as if to speak, thought better of it and resumed pacing. Jennifer smiled the smile of resigned patience.

  ‘Violence!’ The words exploded from his lips. ‘Violence, the inexplicable, and the downright erroneous! I’m so sorry for the outburst, my friend, but it seems Boston is a city of savagery, turbulence and cruelty, at least according to many of those who took part in your game - though to be fair, I must admit I’d have extreme difficulty in writing a word or phrase in answer to a question concerning Edinburgh or York in your fine Country.’ He flicked cigar ash into the glowing fire.

  ‘We are fascinated by the sensational. Historical events, particularly if they are a trifle gruesome or macabre, are the lifeblood of our journalists, poets, authors and playwrights. There’s no business like show business and generally there’s little or no news in good news. The first word that caught my attention was Isabella’s black widow - perhaps a reference to the spider that has a reputation for eating her mate!’

  ‘And supposedly just after making love!’ Jennifer added with a touch of spice.

  ‘I know the feeling exactly!’ joked her husband, raising his eyebrows to the ceiling and gently shaking his head. ‘The black column contains a few other words with violent tendencies, as one would expect since we normally regard black as the opposite of white, the symbol of purity and goodness; black, on the other hand, we accept as representative of dark or evil forces.’

  ‘And then we are reminded of the white robes of the three K’s!’ Jennifer declared softly. ‘The Klan!’

  ‘Now where have I heard that expression before?’ Giles questioned through partially closed lips.

  ‘You’re quite correct, Jenny,’ A.B. conceded. ‘But don’t forget the Klan use white to imply goodness where little exists!’

  ‘What other words set off alarm bells in the next three columns, Abe? And, while we’re at it, I’d respect any input from our lady attorney.’

  ‘I’m more interested in the last section - the one on Boston, but Jenny’s shrewd observation may come up with something.’

  ‘Yes! There’s one comment I’d like to make,’ she said. ‘The Ides of March is not strictly correct - according to the ancient Roman calendar the ides is the fifteenth of March, May, July and October and the thirteenth of every other month. An understandable mistake but it does go to show how easy it is to register discrepancies. It is lucky for us that we can detect and identify those discrepancies!’

  ‘And that’s something the polygraph cannot do!’ A.B. threw in for good measure.

  ‘That statue in front of University Hall this afternoon...!’

  ‘You saw our Statue of Three Lies, Giles? It does make you question everything, doesn’t it?’ said Jennifer.

  ‘It certainly arouses my curiosity - that’s for sure! Now looking down the Boston list, and that’s the one where the two of you can probably be most helpful, I’d really appreciate any comments you’d care to make. I’m sure there’s something there that ties in with the statue and the lies - something that can open a door...to a solution!’

  Abe and Jennifer looked earnestly at each other.

  ‘Okay!’ said A.B. ‘I’ll bat first then Jenny can take over when I get to first base!’

  ‘Let’s play ball!’ The Prof said, obviously enjoying the play on words.

  ‘We can ignore the Tea Party - historically the most associated event connected with Boston. The Red Sox baseball team and J.F.K. are Boston institutions - we’re proud to call them our own; the same could be said about Paul Revere and his midnight ride that was immortalised by Longfellow but, as in many similar works of literature, there are discrepancies in the poem. It may pay to scrutinise those witnesses’ statements at home!’

  ‘My turn now,’ said Jennifer. ‘Harvard, technically, is in Cambridge but accepted, the world over as part of Boston - on the other hand Salem is quite a way out of town!’

  ‘It’s all very intriguing stuff, I must admit. And, like the central character in Oliver Twist, can I have more please!’

  ‘I expect Jenny will have the last word,’ A.B. announced. ‘I will, therefore, concentrate my profound wisdom on The Boston Strangler. The Strangler, who was cited by Victor, needn’t concern us too much but a certain American psychiatrist, James A. Brussel, must receive a mention. He was the man who turned psychological profiling into an art form and who, two years ago, was largely responsible for the conviction of Albert de Salvo, otherwise known as The Boston Strangler. The Harvard professor was back in lecturing mode.

  ‘Dr. Brussel, who was described by one reporter as the “Sherlock Holmes of the couch” and, by another, as the “Psychiatric Seer", did the reverse of most psychiatrists by deducing a person’s characteristics through the study of that person’s actions and responses and not the other way round.’

  A.B. pondered for a moment and pointed to the sheet lying on the coffee table. ‘I would suggest to you that a similar study of that paper, allied with the responses and actions you witnessed at the house near Lockerbie, could be very profitable! In due course it may turn out that the Coroner, or in your case, the Procurator Fiscal, may have been wrong - but it takes a good Coroner or P.F. to admit, about a death, that perhaps he got it wrong!’

  The Prof nodded in acquiescence and his eyes narrowed as wheels started turning in his brain. The thought processes had barely started when they were suddenly interrupted.

  ‘Gentlemen of the jury!’ Jennifer proclaimed coquettishly. ‘George D. Robinson probably used those words when he rose to deliver his closing arguments to the all-male jury in New Bedford in 1893 as he defended Lizzie Borden at her trial for the axe murders of Andrew and Abby Borden in Fall River, which is several miles from Boston, so no connection there, I’m afraid! Lizzie was acquitted of the murders, but a nursery rhyme was spawned even before she came to trial.

  "Lizzie Borden took an axe and gave her mother forty whacks! And when she saw what she had done, she gave her father forty-one!"

  This was popular with lots of school playgroups involved in rope jumps. My mother told me she used to skip to the ditty in an attempt to reach forty-one jumps but although the old nursery rhyme is easy to remember, it is inaccurate; according to the pathologist Lizzie’s mother received nineteen whacks and her father only eleven! The real error though is in the identity of one of the victims! It wasn’t Lizzie’s mother that was killed! Not everyone is aware of the fact but - Abby was her step mother!’

  Chapter 18

  APPOINTMENT WITH DEATH

  When he opened his eyes and glanced at his watch, lying on the bedside cabinet, The Prof knew, immediately, he had overslept.

  He lay back on the pillow and grabbed his thoughts by the scruff of the neck.

  He’d gone to bed feeling quite elated after hearing the comments about the word game. There was no doubt the bottle of Jack Daniels A.B. produced afterwards had a contributory effect but it was the distortions, falsehoods and inventions that materialized out of so many differing names and events that his brain grasped hold of and refused to let go.

  He’d been ages falling asleep but the subsequent rest had been long and beneficial. Too long!

  Downstairs the house was quiet except for a duet coming from the radio.

  “Ol’ blue eyes", Mr.Francis Albert Sinatra, was unmistakable as he sang They Can’t Take That Away from Me but Giles couldn’t put a name to the vocal backup until he had a back view of a petite blonde armed with a feather duster.

  ’The way you sing off key...the way you haunt my dreams...no, no, they can’t take that away from me!’ she sang as she swung round and planted the feathers on a stick smack on his face, right under his nostrils. The urge to sneeze, as the feathers moved back and forth across his upper lip and up his nose, was uncontrollable.

  ‘A-tishoo!’

  ’Gesundheit!�
� the little lady declared without moving the irritating object. ‘You must be Giles...I hope I didn’t waken you with the vacuuming!’

  ‘And you must be Millie!’ he spluttered through multi-coloured feathers. ‘No! You didn’t waken me - it was time I was up anyway!’

  ‘The others are out...they didn’t wanna waken you and told me not to disturb you...and Alan left you a note!’ She rushed her news out and dusted him down at the same time, in rhythm with the Nelson Riddle arrangement of the Sinatra ballad. She passed the note across.

  We didn’t wanna waken you, so take it easy for the day and make yourself at home.

  If you decide to book a flight home try and keep tomorrow morning free - I have a surprise for you. Oh, and ifyou feel like a bath there’s plenty of hot water. Anything else you need, just ask Millie. She’ll take care of you!! See you later.

  Alan.

  He couldn’t help smiling at Abe’s use of the word wanna in anticipation of Millie’s dialect.

  ‘. The way you sip your tea!’ Millie continued to harmonize with ol’ blue eyes. ‘Are you gonna take the bath, Giles? I can rustle up some eggs in...say, half-an-hour...and I can scrub your back if you like...you only have to ask!’

  He tilted his head and smiled. This Millie was the nearest thing to perpetual motion he’d seen in a long time.

  ‘I think I’ll take you up on that, Millie!’ he almost shouted. ‘The bath and the eggs, I mean! But not the back scrubbing!’

  ‘Spoilsport!’

  The water was hot - and there was plenty of it. The bathroom was luxury plus and, as he soaked in the suds, his mind wandered across an ocean to another bathroom several thousand miles away; a bathroom he would have to examine in detail, when he got back, in order to make up his mind about.?

  When A.B. had disclosed the facts about Dr. Brussel and how he’d reversed normal psychiatric procedure Giles had the strong determination to do something similar and reveal certain characteristics from the actions and responses of individuals he’d stored in his memory bank. Was it possible that by following Brussel’s line of thinking he might be able to find answers that, so far, had remained a mystery? The clouds were beginning to roll away.