The Case of the Magic Mirror: A Ludovic Travers Mystery

by Christopher Bush

“Sometimes I hate you.” she said, and stamped her foot exasperatedly. “Don’t I know him? You, talking about knowing him when you know nothing about him at all!”

  It was on the tip of my tongue to say that I knew plenty. But least said, soonest mended. Then her hand was almost timidly on my arm.

  “Sorry, darling. I oughtn’t to have said that to you.” She shook her head wearily. “My nerves are all shot to pieces. But about Rupert. He mustn’t be allowed to do what he says at Trimport. We’ve got to stop him.”

  I let out a breath. “I doubt if I’ve any influence with him.”

  “Perhaps not, darling, but you’ll help. Look at the risk I’m taking. Joe’s bound to be told by somebody and he’ll be furious with me.”

  I didn’t like it. The last thing I wanted was to get in bad with Joe; but before I could put into words just what I was thinking, she was asking how long it would take us to get to Trimport. I told her forty minutes, considering the narrow roads.

  “Then I must fly, darling,” she said. “You wait in the car for me.”

  What was meant to be a brave smile and she was gone. As I strolled back to the car I wondered if the smile had been really brave. Experience of Charlotte had taught me to suspect every word and gesture, yet I was ready to acknowledge that this time she had good enough reason to be scared, for Rupert was about to make the most tremendous fool of himself, and this is why.

  I have told you that he had a house at Trimport; indeed he only disposed of the house when the great scandal broke. At Trimport he was full in the swim, and his was the most elaborate and gaudy beach hut, and the largest, and his were the most highly coloured of beach umbrellas, and he entertained a lot, though generally the most notorious of the celebrities. But even at Trimport, Mecca of notoriety seekers, of loud women and fatuous-faced though astute enough men, Rupert was just a bit too conspicuous and hogged too much limelight. In fact he was most damnably unpopular, and only a man of his utter egotism and self-adulation would have been unaware of the fact. When the great scandal broke, Trimport shrieked with delight, though there was an undercurrent of annoyance that he had brought disgrace on the place through its close association with the theatrical and stockbroking professions.

  Now that particular Saturday was Trimport’s great day. It was the culmination of the cricket week, and there was to be a dance and firework display in the evening. All the men would be down from town for the week-end, and if Rupert Craigne tried to collect a crowd he’d be only too successful. But what made me wince to think of it was the reception he would get. And as I thought of it and of him as the world’s most besotted of fools, I glanced at the dashboard clock again and saw that Charlotte had already been gone a quarter of an hour, and again I was annoyed. All that talk about haste, and—

  But there she was, breathless again, and saying that once more it was Joe who had kept her.

  “I thought I’d never get away,” she said as I moved the car on. “And I was trying so hard to get him to change his mind about going to Trimport this afternoon. He’s arranged to take that wretched American, and I simply shudder at what he’ll be like when he finds out.”

  There wasn’t any talking, for the lanes were narrow and I had to tell her she mustn’t distract the man at the wheel. But once she snuggled up against me and told me how comforting I was, I gently eased her away and got on with the job. It was precisely eleven-thirty—remember that—when we breasted the slight rise and came in sight of Trimport.

  We had come in by the west road, so that the little town lay to our left. Before us lay the bay and its semi-circle of beach, like a lunatic’s rainbow with its huts, kiosks, and umbrellas. Bathing was safe enough inshore, but farther out there were treacherous currents, and only really good swimmers went beyond the two-hundred-yard mark, which was clearly outlined with posts and flags, and was known as the Bar.

  But something unusual was happening out there, and I drew the car to a half. Then I saw what it was, and at the same time Charlotte was clutching my arm.

  “My God, it’s Rupert!” She gave a little moan. “We’re too late.”

  We were too late, but I rushed the car on and then drew it to a screeching halt again on a little hill not a hundred yards from the beach. What we saw and heard was amazing. There, in a small boat just beyond that demarcation line, was Rupert Craigne. His golden hair and beard flared in the full sun, and he was wearing a bathing-suit of the most vivid emerald. In the sea were scores and scores of people, mostly men, but women and children were crowded at the water’s edge. In the air was the most terrifying noise: men yelling, laughing to each other, hooting and cat-calling, and there was Rupert, defiantly at the prow of the boat, yelling his own defiances or it might have been his defence, for so loud was the nearer din that I heard no sound of his but saw only his gestures.

  Charlotte clutched my arm again. She was crying into her handkerchief and her voice was a moan.

  “You’ve got to stop him. Ludo, you must!”

  “My God, how can I stop him!” I told her furiously. “He was a bloody fool, and . . .” Then I let out a breath. “We’d better get away from here before we’re seen. It’s too late to help now.”

  Then I was looking out again, for the din had suddenly lessened. Rupert was making frantic gestures for silence, and then in that comparative quiet there was another sound. A crack! Like the letting off of a gun. Where the sound came from I don’t know, for sounds play queer tricks across water, but I was not worrying about the sound, at least after that second of quick wonder, for something else was happening. Rupert stood for a moment or two as if balancing on the edge of the boat, and his hands were strangely at his breast. Then he fell backwards, and that was the last I saw of him, for the boat hid him.

  “My God! Someone’s shot him!” I said, and was scrambling out of the car.

  In the same moment the noise was deafening again. It was some new stunt to attract attention, and the cat-calls and hoots were worse than ever. Perhaps the hooting bathers had not heard the crack of that gun, for they were nearer to their own noise, and it had come more clearly to me up the rise. And then people began to wonder. The noise hushed as if by a miracle and there was a deathly silence. Men were swimming towards the boat. For a moment I thought I saw a flash of that emerald bathing-suit as the body rose for a moment to the surface, but it might have been a trick of sunlight on sea. But if it had been there it was now gone, and that was the end of Rupert Craigne, for minutes had gone too, and it was impossible that he should be alive.

  There was a little moan and Charlotte slid sideways. A woman was coming down the slope and I called:

  “Please, please! This lady’s fainted. Will you stay with her for a minute?”

  Then I ran. On the beach was an excited crowd, and such babble and chatter as you never heard. Far out a man was standing in the boat, and another clambered up and the two began rowing more out to sea. Other men were in the water beyond the demarcation line, and one or two were diving for the body, which was a pretty hopeless game in spite of the heroics. Then I halted, for why I was running, and what to do, I had no idea. Then I was sheepishly polishing my glasses and wondering just what I ought to do.

  The boat was coming towards the shore and I made for it. All round me was the babble of voices, and nurses were calling to excited children who doubtless thought the show had been put on for their benefit, but I heard nothing as I hurried towards the boat. Others were hurrying too, and I had to force my way through the crowd. I was lucky, for one of the men in the boat was Jim Mason, the stockbroker, a level-headed, oldish man and a bad misfit for Trimport. His eyebrows lifted at the sight of me.

  The other man was telling the crowd to get back and if they didn’t he’d put the boat out to sea again. Another voice was heard.

  “That’s my boat, sir, and I think I’d better take it.”

  It was a fisherman, Quadling by name, who also had boats for hire. The crowd pressed closer, and on a sudden impulse I splashed through the
water and got into the boat. Quadling got in too and took over the oars, and had the boat coming towards the far town.

  “You’d better keep out of the way of that, Travers,” Mason said, and pointed.

  That was a drop of blood.

  I was staring, and Mason’s voice came soberly again. “What’s all this to do with you?”

  “With me?” I said feebly. “Oh, I just happened to see him shot. I mean, I thought he was shot. It took me a minute to recognise the crack of that gun.”

  “Better keep off-shore a bit, Tom,” he told Quadling. “When we get to the gap, you fetch the police.”

  “A hell of a business this,” he said to me. “Made me sick to hear those bloody people.”

  “Yes, but who did the shooting?” I said.

  “No use worrying about that now,” he told me mildly. “That’ll be for the police to find out. You bet your life he got clean away. Everybody was staring out to sea and he fired from the shore. Probably from one of those back bathing-huts. By the time we began to guess what’d happened, he’d made his getaway.”

  Well, we got the boat ashore, though at least a score of busybodies had followed along the beach. I said there was no point in my walking there, for I could give no evidence that a hundred others couldn’t give. Mason agreed and I went with Quadling. We were hurrying, but I did manage to ask how Craigne had got hold of the boat.

  “I had a letter from him yesterday,” he said, “asking me to have a boat ready at about eleven. He was a good customer of mine in the old days and I wanted to oblige him. Couldn’t help wondering, though, what he was up to.”

  “But didn’t everybody spot him at once?” I said. “I mean even before he got into the boat?”

  “I had orders to have it ready a goodish bit along,” he said. “Besides, he had on a jacket and sports trousers and the bathing-suit under it, so you didn’t notice. It’s down on the beach where he left it. He tore it off and chucked it down to me there just after he got in the boat. And he gave me a ten-bob note.”

  We were nearing the main street, so I made an excuse to turn off. I didn’t quite know where I was, but I judged that if I kept on the way I was going I should come to the car. Then I lost my way and it was some minutes before I was put right again. Perhaps I went wrong because I was so busy with my thoughts. Was it up to me, I kept thinking, to see the local police and tell them about Sivley—or rather remind them? Then I decided that they oughtn’t to need any reminding. In any case I was skating over exceedingly thin ice, and I didn’t want to be mixed up in the business at all. Then I wondered if Mason would put the police on to me, and I hoped he wouldn’t be such an interfering fool. Or was it I who had been the interfering fool?

  When I came in sight of the car I thought that Charlotte must have gone down to the beach in search of news, for there was no sign of her. The woman wasn’t there either, but when I came nearer there was Charlotte sitting in the back. Her eyes were red and at the sight of me she was whipping out her vanity case from her bag.

  “Don’t look at me, Ludo,” she told me harshly.

  I stared, then with a shake of the head took my seat at the wheel. The clock said twelve-thirty, and I had no idea it was so late.

  “Shall we be getting back?” I said as sympathetically as I could. “There’s nothing to wait for now.”

  She didn’t speak so I put the car in reverse. When we moved forward I caught a glimpse of her in the driving mirror, and she was putting the case away again.

  “I was a fool to faint,” she said. “I don’t think I’ve ever done such a thing before. Who was the woman, Ludo?”

  “Don’t know,” I said. “Just some passer-by.”

  “She was very kind,” she said, and after that there was a silence while I drove a couple of miles.

  “Have they found Rupert’s body?” she suddenly asked at last.

  I shook my head.

  “They mayn’t find it for days, if at all. That’s a job for the police and everybody. Don’t talk about it, Lotta. What you’ve got to remember is that the police will notify you officially as soon as they know where you are. You’ll have to have all sorts of answers ready.”

  “Did they get Sivley?”

  “Sivley?” I said after a moment or two. “Why should it have been Sivley?”

  “Are you mad?” In the mirror I could see her staring eyes. “Of course it was Sivley. You know it was Sivley. Why did you pretend it wasn’t?”

  “Whoever it was, they haven’t got him,” I said, resignedly. “But why do you keep on talking about it? It only distresses you.”

  “Distresses me!” She began to laugh. The laugh seemed high-pitched and hysterical and I jammed on the brakes. “My God, you infuriate me. You and your pious platitudes! Rupert’s been killed and you say it distresses me! Blast you, Ludo—blast you!”

  “Now, now, now!” I said placatingly. “Sorry I annoyed you. Perhaps it was a fatuous thing to say.”

  I heard her let out a breath. “No, it wasn’t,” she said wearily. “I’m just all nerves. I can’t think it really happened.”

  I let the car pick up again. “You forget it was a shock to me too,” I said, and: “Sorry. Perhaps that’s fatuous too.”

  “Sivley,” she was saying as if to herself. “I’ll see him hung if it costs me every penny in the world. If the police don’t get him, then I’ll get him myself. Funny, isn’t it? I never could kill anything, even a fly. But I’d love to kill Sivley. I’d like to pull him in bits, limb from limb.”

  I said nothing, but let her talk on. I thought it would ease her mind, and I didn’t want my own thoughts and eyes taken off that tricky road.

  “What made you say it wasn’t Sivley?” she was suddenly asking.

  “Well, how could Sivley possibly have known that Rupert would be at Trimport?”

  “He must have had ways and means,” she said. “Who else could have killed him?”

  “Someone who had a grudge against him and shot him on the spur of the moment. A whole lot of people lost jobs when Rupert—well when he got himself in that mess. Isn’t that so?”

  “A ridiculous motive!”

  “Very well, then. Perhaps some fool at Trimport got fed up with his talking and thought he’d scare him with that gun. He didn’t mean to hit him, but he did. But what’s the use of arguing? For all we know Sivley may be at Brazenoak, and with a first-class alibi.”

  She gave a little sneer of derision.

  “In any case, Lotta, you and I can’t do anything about it. And I wish you wouldn’t make me talk,” I said, as I just braked in time to pass a tradesman’s van. “Sit back and relax. There’ll be plenty of talking to do when you see Joe. Perhaps you’d better think out what you’re going to say.”

  “You’ll come with me?”

  I thought for a moment and then said I would. After all, there was that Adam mirror for excuse, and if I didn’t go there was no telling what lies she’d tell Joe about me.

  “Very well,” I said. “I’ll say I was coming to see Joe and met you by chance, and on the spur of the moment you decided you’d like me to drive you round. As for being late, we can blame the car.”

  After that she was quiet till we were about a mile from Brazenoak, and by then it was getting on for half-past one, for I had been taking things easy.

  “Stop a minute, Ludo,” she suddenly said. “I must powder my nose again. I’d hate Joe to see me like this.”

  “Good,” I said. “Perhaps it would be better, if we’re going to spin that yarn. Where shall we have been to? Ipswich?”

  “Yes, Ipswich,” she said, rubbing rouge into her cheek.

  We moved on again, and I don’t know why, but my heart began to race. I think it was at the thought of having to tell Joe those white lies, and to wonder if he’d be annoyed at our being late for lunch. But Charlotte, as I knew, could handle him pretty well.

  As we came out from beneath the woods towards the main gate I suddenly saw a uniformed constable standing the
re as if on duty. My foot went to the brakes.

  “Get ready, Lotta,” I called quietly back. “The Trimport police are here already. You’d better think quick what to say. Probably Joe knows already.”

  The constable’s hand went up and I stopped the car.

  “Yes, officer?” I said.

  “Sorry, but you can’t come in here, sir.”

  “But why not? I’m lunching here.”

  He smiled. “Sorry, sir, but it’s orders.”

  “But this is Mr. Passman’s niece. And what’s the idea of holding us up?”

  But he was turning to Charlotte. “Are you Mrs. Craigne, lady?”

  “Yes,” she said, and was staring bewilderedly.

  “Sorry, then, Mrs. Craigne, but I’ve some bad news for you.”

  I almost smiled, knowing what he was going to say. But that wasn’t at all what he said.

  “Yes, Mrs. Craigne,” he was going heavily on, “your uncle’s—well, he’s dead, lady. Sorry to be so abrupt.”

  “Dead!” I said. “Why, he was sound as a bell!”

  “Not for what killed him, sir,” he told me dismally. “To tell the truth, sir, he was murdered.”

  “Good God!” I was staring like a lunatic. “Murdered, you say? When?”

  “Less than half an hour ago, sir.”

  “Good God!” I said again. But the constable was not paying any attention to me. He was making for the rear door, and I looked round to see that Charlotte had once more slithered to the car floor.

  CHAPTER VI

  OCCUPATION GONE

  Another constable was patrolling between the front and study doors as I drew the car up. As soon as I’d given him some quick explanations I was in the hall and hollering for Mrs. Day, the house-keeper. Matthews appeared and he gave a faint smile of relief at the sight of me.

  “Fetch Mrs. Day, quick,” I told him. “Mrs. Craigne’s in the car outside. She’s faint.”

  I picked Charlotte up but she was too heavy for me. The constable lent a hand and we carried her into the hall. Mrs. Day, wide-eyed and flustered, was already there.