‘I can hardly do that,’ Giles said, rising to help himself to more kedgeree from the sideboard, ‘especially as I’m obliged to communicate with Detective Sergeant Miller if I come up with any concrete evidence that a murder or attempted murder has taken place. It’s his case, not mine.’
‘That’s very interesting.’ Laura said.
‘What is?’ Giles asked.
Laura looked rather perturbed when she replied. ‘The Cinderella Murders!’ Raising an eyebrow she added. ‘The play is meant to have two murders. One of them is the poisoning of Grizelda by Cindy using weed killer in the tea. The other is the death of Cyril when he’s shot by Cindy.’
‘And?’ Freddie said, as Giles nodded with a knowing look on his face.
‘Well,’ Laura said, ‘Cyril was meant to be killed by Cindy when she shot him. And in the play, which we never got to in rehearsals, I believe the body of Cyril was to disappear and then play a role as a sort of ghost in the final act. Isn’t it conceivable that someone was determined to reenact this for real – for some obscure reason?’
‘You’re starting to figure things out like a proper detective,’ Giles said, throwing Laura a congratulatory glance. ‘Just maybe we might end up with two murders on our hands and they possibly won’t be the murders of Grizelda and Cyril.’
‘That’s a horrid thought, Giles,’ Laura said. ‘The thought of real murders in the oldest working theatre in Scotland, where the Guild of Players present plays which have murders in them. Preposterous.’
‘If that should happen it will certainly not be watched by a theatre audience,’ Giles commented, stroking his chin and giving that irritating cough of his as he cleared his throat. ‘I’m not clairvoyant, but I have a curious feeling that someone may be using this play as a pre-meditated murder attempt.’
‘To kill two people?’ Freddie questioned.
‘No! To kill just one.’
‘But Giles, you inferred that there could possibly be two murders.’
‘Yes, Freddie, so I did,’ Giles admitted. ‘But there’s a nagging doubt in my mind that a second murder may not be pre-meditated but the result of a desperate attempt to shut someone up who might spill the beans.’
‘But,’ an astonished Freddie said, ‘you are the one most likely to solve this mystery and therefore the most likely one to spill the beans as you say. You don’t seriously believe you could be in danger, do you?’
Giles shrugged his shoulders and stiffened his jaw, but didn’t reply.
When Giles, Freddie and Laura arrived at the stage door of the Theatre Royal, Giles asked the doorman if anyone had left the theatre after he, Laura and Freddie had left the night before to return to their home in Lockerbie. The stage door man said that one of the Kelly twins had left as he wanted to visit the Casualty department of the local hospital for treatment to an injured arm.
‘Which twin was it?’
‘It was the one playing Dicky in the play.’
‘Are you absolutely certain it was the twin playing Dicky?’ Giles asked.
‘No doubt about it!’ the doorkeeper said. ‘I’d have known him anywhere, even though he’s an identical twin. I can’t tell them apart by their looks, I grant you, but Dicky speaks differently. More polite than that other one who disappeared.’
‘Did he say anything else?’ asked Giles. ‘Did he say how he’d hurt his arm?’
‘Matter of fact he did. I asked him what was wrong with his arm and he said he’d injured it in a fall and needed to get it checked out at Casualty. He was clutching his side as well and looked as if he needed some medical help. He was back within two hours and said he felt much better – but was looking pale.’
‘No one else left the building? You’re absolutely sure about that?’
‘Oh yes sir, quite sure,’ Robbie looked anxiously at Giles, ‘thought that was OK – him going out. In the circumstances, that is. Sort of emergency sir, wasn’t it?’
‘Of course Robbie,’ said Giles reassuringly. ‘Thank you, you’ve been most helpful.’
Giles was curious and concerned as he went to the Green Room where he spoke to Dicky. ‘Did you get what you wanted when you left the theatre last night?’
‘Sorry, I’m not sure what you mean,’ Dicky said.
‘I may be mistaken,’ said Giles. ‘I heard you weren’t feeling too well and had gone for some medical help. Perhaps I was misinformed.’
Dicky smirked. ‘No, you weren’t misinformed. I just think you may have the wrong twin,’ he said, his smile breaking into a broad grin as he chuckled and turned away.
‘You’re probably right,’ said Giles to the retreating back view of the twin. ‘I do get a little confused when I’m confronted with identical twins especially when they are such clever actors.’
‘What was that all about?’ asked Freddie, looking suspicious.
‘I’m sure you can guess,’ said Giles. ‘It appears our disappearing body reappeared and left the theatre last night. He was dressed like Dicky. Spoke like Dicky. He said he’d injured his arm in a fall and was going to hospital for treatment, and has now apparently returned to hide once more in the theatre.’
‘He’s in the theatre?’ Laura said, frowning.
‘Yes. And now and again he’ll no doubt appear as his twin brother. Which means hiding won’t present too much of a problem for him.’
‘This is becoming like the Phantom of the Opera.’ Freddie remarked. ‘What does it really mean?’
‘What it really means,’ said Giles. Knowingly he started to smile. ‘What it really means,’ he said repeating himself. ‘It means the whole matter is infinitely more serious than any hoax could possibly be. We must now look at things in a totally different way. First thing is we have to give the stage wall, and all the furniture on the improvised set, a thorough going over to find if a bullet made a mark or if there’s a spent cartridge lying about that’s been overlooked. Or,’ said Giles, pausing as a thought came over him, ‘or,’ he repeated, ‘if such a cartridge has also been conveniently hidden away like our Cyril. The plot certainly thickens.’
‘You bet it does,’ said Freddie. ‘In racing there isn’t such a thing as a certainty or a sure thing but this is as close to a sure thing as you can possibly get. I’d lay odds on it but why hide a cartridge and why is Cyril having to hide when we now know he’s been shot by someone in this theatre?’
‘You’re looking for a motive again Freddie, but I don’t blame you. It can only be that there is obviously some ulterior intention. And that spells a catastrophic and disastrous conclusion.’
‘But disaster for whom, Giles?’ Laura asked, biting her lip. ‘I’m so sorry I got you involved in this venture. In a way I wish it had all been a gigantic hoax.’
‘You mustn’t think like that my dear. I can now put on my detective hat and start treating this like a proper whodunnit. At the same time it’s just possible that my magic skill will assist in bringing about a solution to this affair.’
‘I hope you’re right, Giles. I’d hate this to turn out as the title of the play implies.’
‘The Cinderella Murders?’ Freddie whispered through clenched lips. ‘What a horrible thought.’
‘Let’s get to the stage and start searching for a bullet or a sign that one has penetrated a spot after it grazed Cyril.’ Giles paused briefly as a thought had suddenly altered his perception of the last words he’d spoken. His eyes showed signs of surprise. ‘It has just struck me,’ he said. ‘I didn’t think of it before. But could it be possible that when the gun was fired, using a bullet, that it never actually grazed him?’
‘You mean that the shot aimed at Cyril missed the target because it was a bad shot?’ said Freddie.
‘No!’ said Giles, clearing his throat. ‘Maybe, just maybe it wasn’t meant to hit him. An accurate shot meant to miss him or…?’ He paused once more and smiled. ‘… or maybe it was not aimed at him at all?’
‘Then who do you think the shot might have been aimed at?’ queried L
aura. ‘Is there more in this than meets the eye? You mention so many different possibilities that I’m getting more and more confused.’
‘I’m none the wiser, Laura,’ Giles said, puckering his lips and shaking his head. ‘And what is even more confusing – I can think of one more possibility. What if the gun wasn’t aimed at anyone at all? I realise that would mean that Cyril would not have been hit yet he somehow required medical assistance. More conundrums to solve but we simply have to consider every possibility before we can arrive at the truth. Once that is known we’ll wonder why we didn’t think of it in the first place. Remember what I said – sometimes the truth is often staring us in the face and we ignore it because it doesn’t seem possible. It really wouldn’t surprise me if what is happening here fits that criterion. But before we get ourselves in a stew I think we must start a search of the stage for any sign of a stray bullet.’
When they got to the stage a rehearsal was in full flow. The two actors playing Cindy and Dicky were on stage as was Walter standing in for Cyril. It was Walter who stopped proceedings to have a word with Giles.
‘Are you any further on with your search?’ he asked.
‘No, I’m afraid not and that’s why I’m here,’ Giles said. ‘I don’t wish to disturb you but we’d like to search the entire area on stage. We’ll keep out of your way as much as we can but I need to eliminate certain thoughts I have.’
‘There’s nobody hiding here as you can see.’ Walter said, sounding a trifle touchy.
‘Well it’s not a body we’re looking for,’ said Giles. ‘It’s something much smaller and I assure you we’ll try to keep out of your way and let you get on with your work.’
Walter screwed his eyes and a frown appeared on his forehead. He nodded, turned away and barked at Cindy and Dicky, slapping the book he held against his other hand.
Giles raised both eyebrows, smiled and glanced at Laura and Freddie. ‘Laura,’ he said softly, ‘you search the bookcase, the fireplace and also the door leading to the kitchen. While you’re at it you might check the book that Cindy uses where the gun firing blanks is hidden. It would be a cunning place to hide a cartridge.’ His eyes met Laura’s reassuringly before turning to Freddie.
‘Freddie, have a good look at the theatre wall behind where Cyril was standing when the gun was fired, but don’t ignore other parts of that wall. Also pay attention to the floor where a bullet may have become lodged though I rather doubt you’ll find anything there. We mustn’t leave anything to chance. I’m going to rummage around the stage wing where the ropes and curtains are hanging. One way or another we should come to a conclusion as to what may have happened. If either of you find anything that might be significant let me know right away. We can then take it from there.’
As Giles methodically went over each square yard of the area opposite where Cyril had been standing he found what he expected to find – absolutely nothing. He wasn’t perturbed or disappointed in any way as he was fairly sure that a bullet had not been fired from that part of the stage. As he eliminated each area of the floor space Giles glanced across the stage where Grizelda and the Brigadier had joined the other three to continue their rehearsal. But they stayed only a few seconds before moving off again. Laura and Freddie seemed to be hard at work but each time he looked across there was no sign from either of them that a discovery had taken place.
When he had finished his search Giles went down the steps to the auditorium and had another look at the stage from where Walter and Mark had watched the scene when Cyril had reacted to the shot from the gun. He was trying to visualise the likelihood of the shot coming from where they stood when Freddie gave a loud shout from the back wall of the stage.
Walter turned and threw his copy of the book to the floor in a furious rage. ‘What the hell’s going on?’ he snapped. ‘I thought no one was going to interrupt my rehearsal.’
‘I apologise,’ said Giles as he climbed the small stairway to the stage. ‘We may just have found something that might bring some sanity to this insane and bizarre episode.’
‘Hmm,’ said Walter, picking up his copy of the book. ‘I’d certainly want to hear what important discovery has been made that has caused such a bloody disturbance.’
‘I think I may have found what we’re looking for,’ said Freddie. ‘Come and take a look at this.’
Laura stopped her search and joined Giles as he went across to the wall where Freddie was pointing. There was a tiny hole which conceivably could have been created by a theatrical accident that occurred in the long history of the theatre but equally by a bullet pinging the wall. Giles tried to picture in his mind where a bullet might be shot from in relation to where Cyril had been standing. His eye had difficulty in being accurate about the trajectory but he finally concluded that there were only two possible areas outside the stage from where a gun could be aimed. One was from the part of the stage where the ropes and curtains were hanging but from the extreme right hand side nearest the steps to the auditorium. The other area was from the auditorium itself where Mark and Walter had been sitting. He pointed this out to Laura but she looked rather bemused.
‘When that gun went off with a bang,’ she said, ‘I happened to look across towards where the ropes and curtains were hanging. Don’t ask me why because I don’t have an answer. But there was no one there. I’m positive of that.’ There was a brief pause as Laura appeared to look back in time to when the shot was heard. ‘Unless of course someone was hiding behind the curtain nearest to the auditorium,’ she said, her voice shaking. ‘I didn’t have a clear view of that curtain. But I can’t see how it’s possible the gun could have been fired from that side.’
‘I haven’t the slightest doubt that what you say is correct, Laura,’ Giles said as he put his arm around her to comfort her. ‘And I’m sure Freddie would lay odds on that without any hesitation.’
‘Bloody hell,’ yelled Walter at the top of his voice. ‘We’re not at the races. Do you think we can now get back to our rehearsals without any further interruption? That is if you have no further objection?’
Giles spread his arms as if about to hug the playwright in a gesture that suggested everything in the garden was rosy and Giles didn’t mind being chastised by this ill-mannered upstart who was full of his own importance.
The body image of Walter showed how much he was seething and irritated by Giles’ refusal to be intimidated. ‘Where the hell are Grizelda and the Brigadier?’ he shouted. ‘Am I surrounded by incompetents? And where the bloody hell is Mark? Can I not even rely on my co-writer?’
At that very moment Walter was stopped in his tracks when Jane Ferris rushed on to the stage. ‘I think you’d better come quickly,’ she said, her voice quivering with distress as she glanced at the anxious faces of those on stage. ‘It’s Mark. Something’s wrong. He’s in the Green Room gasping for breath and I think he could be having a heart attack.’ She clutched at Walter and he guided her gently to the couch on stage.
‘What on earth has got into Mark now?’ Walter said. ‘Fussing about that stupid curse again no doubt.’
Giles darted out without waiting to hear more.
‘He said he’d seen a ghost and the ghost looked like Cyril. The ghost had a white face and looked terrified. But that’s not all. The ghost’s arm was drenched with blood. Mark is petrified. Going on about some curse or something.’
In the Green Room Mark was lying back in a chair and was being attended to by Grizelda and the Brigadier. His eyes were closed and although he still held a glass of water in his hand his breathing was shallow and a throbbing vein was clearly visible in his temple.
‘I’ve given him one of his pills,’ said Grizelda, ‘and although he still looks pale his colour is better than it was a few moments ago.’
‘It could only get better,’ sniped Walter, throwing up his arms in bewilderment ‘If it was worse than he looks now he’d be dead.’
‘First Cyril and now Mark,’ said the Brigadier. ‘Both from the same famil
y. Just hope the curse is not about to have the same dreadful effect on everyone connected with this play.’
‘Don’t be so dramatic,’ Dicky said. ‘My brother, wherever he is and whatever has happened, Mark’s supposed curse has nothing to do with it. I’m certain of that. Mark must be hallucinating or having some sort of breakdown. My uncle is obviously not himself at the moment but when he feels better we can listen to what he has to say and will be in a position to judge the situation in a clearer frame of mind. Ever since my mother died, when the family was supposedly threatened by the curse, he’s been paranoid. Whatever happens he claims it’s that curse again.’
Chapter 16
THE SHOW MUST GO ON
Mark opened his eyes and looked at the sea of faces watching him. As Mark stared Giles wondered if the playwright could recognise anyone in the room. Mark tried to speak but his words were so incoherent it was as if he’d just had a stroke. His breathing came in short gasps and he closed his eyes and slumped back in the chair.
Grizelda knelt down and clasped Mark’s hand. He opened his eyes once more and a wan smile did its best to shape his lips. ‘Thank you,’ he said with some difficulty. ‘I feel a little better now but I’ve just had the most ghastly encounter.’
‘Well, what happened?’ Walter asked as he sat down beside his co-playwright.
Mark looked at Walter questioningly. ‘Did you ask me something?’ he said, removing his hand from Grizelda’s grasp and grabbing the lapel of Walter’s jacket with some ferocity.
‘I asked what happened.’ Walter said in a stern voice.
‘Did something happen?’ Mark queried. ‘What happened? Did I miss something?’ he stammered.
‘What on earth happened to you Mark that got you so het up?’ Walter said, getting to his feet and wrenching Mark’s grasping hand away from his hold on his jacket.
The Cinderella Murders Page 12
