The Hangman's Lair

by Simon Cheshire

  I looked at Izzy. ‘There’s only one thing for it. We’re going to have to cheat better than them.’

  CHAPTER

  SIX

  TIME: THE FOLLOWING NIGHT, 9.45 P.M.

  Place: Muddy’s room.

  People: Me, Izzy and Muddy.

  ‘This place is a pigsty,’ said Izzy.

  ‘Oi,’ said Muddy, ‘this is a working workshop. Don’t sit there, I need that circuit board!’

  ‘Shhhh!’ I hissed. ‘I’m trying to tune this monitor in!’

  Izzy took out a hanky and dusted a patch of carpet before sitting down. Muddy shovelled a pile of electrical components aside to make room for himself. I adjusted the TV’s specially adapted remote control (or the Whitehouse Eye-Viewer X350, as Muddy insisted on calling it) and a slightly furry, slightly discoloured picture filled the screen.

  ‘Who’s wearing the badge?’ asked Muddy.

  ‘My cousin Coral,’ said Izzy. ‘We had to let her in on the whole thing. There was no way Saxby or I could be there without raising suspicion.’

  The picture on the screen swayed as Coral walked. Muddy’s mini-camera was hidden behind the left eye of a smiley-face badge, pinned to her apron. Muddy’s mini-microphone was attached to the back of a button on her shirt. Muddy’s carefully prepared pack of all-the-same playing cards was tucked into her pocket.

  We watched from the smiley badge as Coral walked into the backstage room at The Pig And Fiddle. A small table had been placed in the middle of the room, with a chair at each end. Raphael was in there spraying air freshener to try to disperse the pong of Godfrey Frye’s cigarettes.

  ‘Everything set?’ said Raphael nervously. His voice sounded tinny through Coral’s concealed microphone.

  ‘You’re still going to do this, Dad?’ said Coral. ‘You’re still going to cheat this gambler?’

  ‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, not one of those gamblers plays fair,’ said Raphael. ‘I’ve seen it in the movies. They all cheat. Mr Frye and I will simply be redressing the balance.’

  ‘So two wrongs make a right, now, do they?’

  ‘If you can’t say anything constructive, Coral, then don’t say anything at all.’

  ‘Does she know about our con?’ whispered Muddy.

  ‘Yes,’ I whispered, ‘but she’s under strict instructions not to let on to Izzy’s uncle. As far as he’s concerned, everything’s happening according to plan.’

  ‘Why are we whispering?’ whispered Izzy. ‘They can’t hear us, can they?’

  ‘No,’ said Muddy. He produced a big bowl full of crisps. ‘Anyone want one?’

  ‘Cheese and onion?’ asked Izzy.

  ‘No, Mexican chilli heatwave,’ said Muddy.

  ‘Ooh, I’ve not tried those,’ said Izzy.

  ‘Can we shut up and pay attention?’ I cried. ‘We’ve got Operation Con The Con Men on the go here!’

  There was a lot of swishing about on screen as Coral moved around the room. The picture stabilised as she came to a halt and we could see that Godfrey Frye was arriving.

  ‘Ah, Mr Frye,’ said Raphael. ‘Do take a seat. Our American friend should be along any moment. Lovely chap, had a long talk with him when he arrived. I must say, he’s keen as mustard to play this game. Keen as mustard!’

  Frye slowly perched himself on one of the chairs beside the table. ‘Is it wise to have one of your daughters present, Mr Moustique?’ he said. ‘I thought this matter was between ourselves?’

  ‘Oh, no problem, no problem,’ bustled Raphael. ‘Coral is one hundred and ten per cent trustworthy. She asked me if she could sit in on this. Act as waitress, as it were, fetching a few drinkies, that sort of thing.’

  ‘I see,’ said Frye slowly. ‘Does Mr Green suspect that I am a person gifted with second sight?’

  ‘Ooh, definitely not, old bean,’ said Raphael. ‘I’ve taken down all references to you on the billboards. He thinks you’re an old pal of mine. An old pal who fancies himself as a bit of a high roller. He thinks you’re going to be a pushover. Everything’s top notch, A-1, all systems go.’

  Crunch, crunch, crunch.

  ‘Muddy! Put those crisps down!’ I said.

  ‘But they’re Mexican chilli heatwave, my favourite,’ said Muddy.

  ‘I don’t care!’

  There was more back and forth swishing on the screen. Then a large figure in a light grey, three-piece suit swung into view. He had white hair, a drooping moustache and big, owl-like spectacles.

  ‘Looks like he ought to be serving fried chicken in a bucket,’ muttered Izzy. ‘Pass the crisps, Muddy.’

  ‘Ah!’ came Raphael’s tinny cry through the TV’s speakers. ‘Welcome to our exclusive little soirée, Mr Green! Come in, come in. This is the friend I was telling you about, Mr Godfrey Frye.’

  ‘Hi, delighted to meet you, sir,’ said the American, reaching across the table and shaking Frye’s limply-offered hand. ‘Ray-fee here’s told me all about you.’ He turned towards the camera, or rather, towards Coral. ‘And delighted to meet you, too, miss.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Coral. ‘Can I get you a drink?’

  ‘A diet soda, thanks,’ said Mr Green.

  Coral turned and we could now see a smaller table set up in the corner of the room. On it were various glasses and bottles, plus a shiny metal ice bucket. While Coral poured Mr Green his drink, we listened carefully to what was being said behind us. Er, behind her.

  ‘You kindly agreed to a simple, three-deal round of Highball, Mr Green, is that right?’ said Raphael.

  ‘Certainly,’ said Green. We could hear the chair opposite Frye clunk a little as Green sat down. ‘Since you gentlemen are new to the gaming tables, a short, easy game seems like a fair deal.’

  ‘Most considerate,’ said Frye.

  ‘Short, but no less exciting!’ declared Raphael.

  ‘You said it,’ said Green.

  Coral turned back to the gaming table and placed a glass on a little round napkin next to Green. As she did so Green produced, from the inside pocket of his jacket, the biggest wad of banknotes you could possibly hold together with one elastic band. He bumped it heavily on to the table in front of him.

  (‘Wow,’ murmured Muddy.

  ‘Conned out of a whole string of victims, I reckon,’ I said.)

  Coral turned in time to see Frye place a similar bundle on his side of the table.

  (‘Double wow,’ said Muddy.

  ‘That’s the entire Big Holiday Fund, and then some,’ murmured Izzy.)

  ‘Winner takes all, huh?’ said Green. ‘Equal stakes, best of three.’

  ‘Just to remind ourselves of the rules,’ said Raphael, his voice trembling in a mixture of gleeful excitement and nervous terror, ‘each player splits the deck and takes the card that’s then on top. Each player reveals their card. Highest value wins and, as you say, Mr Green, it’s best of three. Picture cards count as ten, aces count as eleven. All agreed?’

  ‘Agreed,’ said Green.

  ‘Agreed,’ said Frye.

  Raphael took a pack of cards from his pocket, and cut open the plastic wrapper around them. ‘As you can see, gentlemen, we are using a new, unused pack.’

  (‘You’re sure Coral’s pack has the same design on it?’ I whispered.

  ‘Yup,’ said Muddy. ‘She gave him that pack herself.’)

  Raphael placed the stack of fifty-two cards in the centre of the table. Frye took out a cigarette and lit it, sending gushes of smoke across the table. Green took the cards and shuffled them in full view, then replaced them in exactly the same spot.

  ‘First round, gentlemen,’ said Raphael.

  There was a pause. Frye and Green eyed each other across the table.

  Green reached over to the cards. Delicately, he lifted a section of the cards off the stack, put them down, then placed the remainder of the deck on top of the ones he’d just removed. Then he took what was now the top card, and placed it in front of him, one hand guarding it.

  Frye closed his
eyes for a moment. Hearing whispers from the dead, no doubt, about where to split the pack.

  He reached over, and did the same thing as Green had done. Now they each had a card face down in front of them.

  There wasn’t a sound around the table. Or in Muddy’s room. Muddy sat with a handful of crisps poised in his mouth.

  Green turned over his card. Seven of diamonds.

  Frye turned his over. Nine of clubs.

  Raphael squeaked with glee. ‘Mr Frye wins the first round. Your turn to shuffle the cards, Mr Frye.’

  Frye shuffled, and replaced the pack.

  Round two.

  Green split the deck and chose his card. Frye did the same. He placed his card directly in front of him and adjusted his cigarette, sending another cloud of smoke rolling through the dimmed light in the room.

  Green took a sip of his drink. Then he turned his card.

  Jack of spades.

  Frye turned his.

  Two of clubs.

  Raphael squeaked with horror. ‘M-Mr Green wins the second round,’ he burbled. ‘Everything depends of round three.’

  Frye sat back, a carefully composed look of confusion on his face. He passed a hand woefully across his forehead.

  Coral moved around the table. She stood to one side of the table, next to the glass she’d put down for Green.

  (‘That’s it,’ I muttered to myself. ‘Get into position, well done.’ )

  Green grinned up at Izzy’s uncle. ‘You enjoying this as much as me?’

  ‘Oh, y-yes, you bet, definitely,’ stammered Raphael. He kept glancing at Frye. Frye kept avoiding his gaze.

  ‘Here we go, gentlemen,’ said Green. ‘Winner takes all.’

  Green shuffled the deck, for the third and last time. He placed them in the centre of the table.

  He cut the deck as before, placed the remainder on top and took the top card.

  (‘Now,’ I murmured to myself. ‘Now!’ )

  Coral suddenly sneezed. She swung her hand up to her nose, and as she did so, she ‘accidentally’ tipped Green’s glass over. A little fizzing puddle quickly spread across the centre of the tabletop.

  With a cry of ‘Whoa’ she picked the deck of cards up and held it high over the table. Raphael sprang forward, pulling out a handkerchief.

  ‘Oh, you clumsy clot!’ he growled as he dabbed the tabletop dry.

  ‘Sorry!’ said Coral. ‘Sorry everyone! At least I saved the cards from getting wet.’

  ‘No harm done, sweetheart,’ chuckled Green. Both he and Frye were keeping a close watch on the cards. She replaced them on the table.

  But they’d already missed the important bit. In the split second after the glass had spilled and Coral had lifted the cards, while Green and Frye had taken the briefest of glances down at the fizzing liquid, Coral had swapped the cards from hand to hand, substituting Muddy’s all-the-same-card pack for the one they’d been playing with.

  (‘Oh perfect!’ I cried. ‘She did that absolutely perfectly!’)

  ‘I do apologise, gentlemen,’ said Raphael hurriedly. He glared angrily at Coral. ‘Go over there, stand well back.’

  Coral backed off. The substituted stack of cards was sitting on the table.

  Now it was Frye’s turn to take a card. He split the deck and took the top one.

  Green and Frye sat silently for a moment. Raphael wiped his brow with his already-dripping handkerchief.

  Casually, Green reached out and flipped his card over.

  King of diamonds.

  Raphael squeaked with despair. Everything now rested on the turn of this last card, Frye’s card. He closed his eyes for a moment.

  On the opposite edges of the table sat the two bundles of money. Winner takes all.

  Frye’s cigarette glowed as he dragged on it. Green eyed him, unblinking and confident.

  Frye reached out for his card. His bony fingers hooked underneath it. He lifted it slowly. He turned it over and dropped it to the table top, ready and waiting to see a disasterously low number.

  Ace of hearts.

  ‘These crisps are yummy,’ said Izzy, taking another handful.

  ‘Yah-hooo!’ yelled Raphael. ‘I knew you could do it, old chap!’ He slapped Frye on the back and scooped up the two bundles of money

  Green jumped to his feet, sending his chair tumbling backwards. ‘You blithering idiot, Steve!’ he roared at Frye. His accent had suddenly turned Cockney. Then he suddenly realised that he’d let his accent suddenly turn Cockney. And that he’d called Godfrey Frye ‘Steve’ - his real name, I presumed.

  Raphael stared open-mouthed at the pair of them. I think the truth was just starting to dawn on him.

  Coral stepped forward. She tapped at the camera hidden in her badge, and spoke to Green and Frye. ‘If it’s any help in making up your minds about what to do now, this whole thing has been caught on camera.’

  Green and Frye looked at her, then at Raphael, then at each other. For a second or two, they looked as if they might do something violent. Then they left, kicking over the table and smashing the now-empty glass against the wall as they went.

  Coral twisted the badge round so that her face appeared, huge and distorted, on the screen.

  ‘That went well,’ she said, to the three of us in Muddy’s room. We cheered and ate the rest of the crisps.

  Izzy’s uncle took several days to recover from the shock.

  The shock of the truth about Green and Frye, the shock of playing the game and the shock of finding out that Izzy, Coral and I had saved him from disaster.

  What happened to the money? The Big Holiday Fund went straight back into the bank. Izzy persuaded her uncle to donate all the crooks’ loot to charity. She persuaded him by saying, ‘Unless you do, Aunt Mina’s going to hear what you’ve been up to as soon as she gets back from New Zealand.’

  And that, dear readers, is an example of how adults sometimes have to be rescued from their own stupidity.

  The morning after the card game, I trotted down to my garden shed, eager to jot down a few notes on the case. Unfortunately, I’d forgotten about the cramped mess I’d left the shed in. As soon as I opened the door, I took one look at it all and groaned.

  I thought for a moment. Notes first, tidy up afterwards. Now all I had to work out was how to get to my desk.

  Case closed.