The Cinderella Murders

by David Cargill

  ‘No problem! I’ll show the boys exactly how to avoid any possibility of mistakes. What beats me is how the mistake was made in the first place as they’ve already had instructions that are foolproof.’

  Walter nodded but his look was doubtful. ‘There was never a problem before about the correct dagger to use. They only had the use of the trick dagger that you supplied for the illusion. Presumably the other one came from the props room. But it’s a puzzle how they could get mixed up. Is it conceivable that someone deliberately switched them?’ Walter paused. Then, clearly agitated, he gasped.

  ‘Always a possibility,’ said Giles, ‘and that brings me to the point I was making when I asked you previously if you had forgotten something.’

  ‘Do you really believe it’s not the naughty schoolboy behaviour of the twins that’s caused some of the problems?’

  ‘That’s not quite what I was thinking but if the boys were so familiar with my trick weapon neither would have changed the prop when the illusion was to take place…’ Giles paused and gave his little cough.

  ‘Which means?’

  ‘Haa! That would mean that someone deliberately made the switch in order to cause a very serious upset that could ruin your play. But I think you may still be missing the point.’

  ‘What do you mean by that?’

  ‘Easy! Supposing the switch was made in order to make it look as if a switch could cause a serious upset and also make it appear that someone other than the twins changed the props.’

  ‘You’re talking in riddles again, Giles. I’m afraid I can’t understand what you’re getting at but if what you say is true we may not be finished with the unnerving events that have taken place so far.’

  ‘Exactly. We must never take anything for granted even if it seems that nothing can go wrong. Remember what I said. Dare we drop our guard?’

  ‘Well you may be right, Giles, but I have a play to run-through and if you’ll excuse me we’ll start where there was almost a run-through of a different kind.’ Looking smug at his use of phrase Walter turned, clapped his hands and shouted at the cast. ‘Places everyone. We’ll start from the illusion when the step-sons perform the stabbing in order to frighten Cindy. That is if Dicky feels able to carry on!’

  Once the run-through got started again it went without a hitch until the play neared the ending when Cindy confronts Cyril after he taunts her about her threat to kill him. At this stage Cindy duly produced the gun by an astonishingly skilful sleight of hand. Suddenly she jerked back.

  ‘Don’t hesitate Cindy. You’re ruining the effect. Fire the gun!’ yelled Walter, slamming one fist against the other. ‘Squeeze the bloody trigger for God’s sake.’

  The gun fell from Cindy’s hand as if she’d had an electric shock and she put out both hands to stop Cyril closing in on her.

  ‘What the hell’s gone wrong?’ bellowed Walter. ‘Why didn’t you fire the gun?’

  ‘It was the wrong gun. I knew it wasn’t the one I normally use,’ she said. ‘It was the wrong gun! It was the wrong gun! It looked the same but it was the wrong gun and I was afraid to squeeze the trigger in case…’ She broke into tears.

  ‘Surely not another prop in the wrong place,’ Mark exclaimed as he rushed on stage to pick up the firearm and examine it. ‘You can thank your lucky stars Cyril that this gun fires only blanks. But if it isn’t the same gun as was used before and had it fired real bullets and if Cindy had squeezed the trigger as Walter insisted there’s no knowing what might have happened. Giles’ saying dare we drop our guard is surely something we must all take on board.’

  ‘’I feel we’ve done enough for the day,’ said Walter. ‘Thanks to the Guild we have one more opportunity tomorrow and it’s an opportunity we must make the best use of. Go off to your digs, relax for the night and on our final day at the theatre we’ll make a right royal occasion of our visit by getting a bottle of champagne to drink to the successful conclusion of our rehearsals thus making us ready to put The Cinderella Murders before a theatre audience. Perhaps even to play in London’s West End where we might one day rival The Mousetrap. Now that would be worth celebrating,’ he said. ‘I would certainly drink to that.’

  ‘I’m sure you would,’ said Giles, looking directly at Walter as he spoke. ‘But there is one thing I’m extremely curious about.’

  ‘I wonder what that could possibly be Mister Magician? Another of those riddles you seem to spend a lot of time trying to solve?’

  ‘No, no, Walter. Certainly not. It was just something Mark told me when I first met him.’

  ‘Oh, Mark? Of course, if Mark told you I think I may know what you’re curious about.’

  ‘I felt it rather strange when Mark told me that although you collaborated with him in writing this play you didn’t wish to be acknowledged as the co-playwright. Can you confide in me and explain your refusal when you now say you would certainly drink to celebrate the coming of age of The Cinderella Murders?’

  The length of time it took Walter to answer suggested he was choosing his words with extreme care. Then, suddenly he exploded. ‘I was afraid it was going to be a flop. I don’t mean the actual manuscript is below par but I was so concerned by Mark’s health due to his innate fear of that bloody curse that I feared his problems would restrict him from promoting the play to the best advantage. I’m still not entirely sure. The introduction of your magical illusions are brilliant and give me hope. Only a faint hope I admit. If Mark can only keep his nerve I’ll be proud to be named as co-author.’ Walter rubbed his chin before continuing. ‘That wretched curse has taken its toll over the years and I can’t help feeling he might keel over at any time. It’s a damn good job he has his pills to help him though thankfully he seems to have taken on a new lease of life since the run-through in spite of the mistakes with the props.’

  Chapter 24

  WHEN THE LIGHTS WENT OUT

  The morning following the run-through was damp and dark when Giles went down for breakfast. Freddie was keeping Laura company in the dining room of Maskelyne Hall and was already munching hot buttered toast and scrambled eggs.

  ‘You look as if you’ve had a restless night, Giles,’ he said, wiping his lips with a napkin.

  ‘Is it that obvious?’ said Giles. ‘My mind was working overtime. With no apparent success I might add.’

  ‘Come on sleepyhead,’ said Laura as she served him breakfast. ‘I know you’ll want to be at the Theatre Royal in Dumfries if only to sample a glass of champagne.’

  ‘A glass of champagne was the least of my thoughts as I lay awake half the night.’ Giles shook his head. ‘Restless, Freddie? You can say that again. Again and again, my mind played back all the strange things since the group made the Dumfries theatre the venue for their rehearsals. Searching for a meaning. Is there some link?’ He reached for the coffee. ‘I know I’m nearly there. But I need proof. Some vital factor is missing.’

  ‘A meaning? Now what do you mean by that?’ said Freddie, passing the toast to Giles. ‘Have you absolutely ruled out trickery? Certainly if someone is playing tricks with us he or she has a very warped mind.’

  ‘There has to be a purpose behind it all. An evil one,’ said Giles, slamming the table with the flat of his hand and almost spilling the coffee. ‘And a very devious one. But we’re faced with something much more serious than an act of tomfoolery, Freddie. A purpose that I’m unable to get my head round. Action and reaction. So many imponderables. Imponderables that didn’t happen by accident.’

  ‘I hate to see you like this, Giles,’ said Laura. She leant across the table and clasped Giles’ hand. ‘I understand how you feel but don’t you think you might be making too much of the past events? I know how the acting profession is renowned for doing silly things. Japes to create havoc with fellow actors, play tricks on everyone purely as a means of fun and I suppose a form of emotional release. Perhaps a glass of champagne may well be what we all need. The final thank you celebration that says well done everyone.’


  ‘A final celebration?’ Giles looked Laura straight in the eyes. ‘I’d like to think that what you say is true. But my mind keeps harking back to everything that’s happened and the effect on the players.’ He paused as if he was searching for some way to explain what he was driving at. ‘So many weird happenings which could conceivably have been influenced by the mostly ghostly reputation of the Dumfries theatre.’ Giles tried hard to force a smile but without conviction. ‘I couldn’t sleep, got up and jotted down as many of the strange incidents as I could recall. There have been so many. Many of which I’m convinced did not happen by chance. It was as if they’d been choreographed to happen in a strictly disciplined order… and choreographed as soon as the announcement of the theatre was made where rehearsals were to take place. That’s what bothers me.’

  ‘I thought I heard you pacing the floor last night, Giles,’ said Laura. ‘So you were hard at work writing a list when you really should have been getting some rest?’ Frowning with mock disapproval she refilled his coffee cup. ‘Will that list bring you any closer to answering the questions that are obviously bugging you?’

  ‘I sincerely hope so, Laura. But I can’t help feeling that if you leave out the most important ingredient when baking a cake you end up with something you can’t digest. It’s that one important ingredient that can give a meaning to everything on my list… and that’s what I’m searching for.’

  ‘I hope you find it,’ said Freddie. ‘And knowing you the way I do I expect you’ll never give up trying. But we haven’t much time to solve the riddle, Giles. We’re almost at the finishing post.’

  ‘But it’s essential to stop the race Freddie before it ends in disaster. Some unseen danger threatens. I know it. When something goes radically wrong there is usually that vital ingredient lurking in the least obvious place which, if you can recognise it, gives you the necessary item that makes baking a cake a work of art. And I will find it. I must.’ Giles rose. ‘I’ll go and get ready and we can head back to Dumfries and its theatre of ghosts and try and make some sense out of the hurly-burly we’ve experienced.’

  Laura smiled shaking her head. ‘Dear Giles,’ she said fondly as if to some recalcitrant child. ‘I do so adore you.’ She bent over and ruffled his hair. ‘But you’re like a dog with a bone over all this.’

  Giles clasped her hand. ‘Despair of me as you will my dear Laura but I can’t let it go.’

  The theatre was quiet when they arrived to find everyone connected with The Cinderella Murders waiting in the Green Room to hear how the day’s programme would evolve.

  ‘Well this is our final day in this theatre,’ said Mark. ‘Although we’ve only been here a few days it seems like ages since we started, but we’ve achieved so much in that time I feel we deserve the chance to celebrate with champagne. That, of course, must wait until we finalise what we came here to do.’ He paused, looked all around the room and smiled. ‘Last night’s run-through, although marred by the props disasters, allowed us to rehearse the ending of our play for the first time and I’m sure you all enjoyed it but we have something that might just change your minds. I’ll let my renowned co-playwright tell you about it.’

  Walter beamed at the introduction he was given. ‘Mark and I had a chat about the ending of the play as we were not entirely happy with it. The ending that you rehearsed for the first time was good… very good. But it fails to be utterly convincing in justifying the final words of the Fairy Godmother when she says they’ll never convict you my dear. They got what they deserved.’

  Mark nodded. ‘Walter’s right. It bothered us as the end has to leave the audience believing in the Fairy Godmother’s final lines and we felt her lines required some explanation. We therefore have some changes to make. It isn’t yet certain that we’ll use it but it promises to be much more plausible and a more dramatic end to a play that we believe can really go places.’

  ‘This ending is not yet in your copy of the play so we’ll give you a résumé of what we suggest,’ said Walter. ‘When the step-brothers are taunting Cindy we have her wearing thin gloves for her housework. This is an important change as it means when she produces the gun her fingerprints will not be on the weapon. This is vitally important and, of course, will depend on Cindy being able to produce the gun while wearing gloves.’ Walter looked across to Giles. ‘Can she do this?’

  ‘No reason why she can’t. Thin gloves won’t prevent her using sleight-of-hand. From the moment I started training her I knew she was a natural.’ Giles nodded as he spoke.

  ‘Good. When she shoots both boys she then drops the gun. That is also important.’ said Walter. ‘When the step-mother enters having heard the shots, she speaks her lines as in our original ending. She sees the gun on the floor and picks it up and by doing so places her fingerprints on the gun.’

  Immediate cries of approval burst from the cast accompanied by loud clapping and stamping of feet.

  ‘Superb.’

  ‘Perfect.’

  ‘What an ending. The audience will be wowed.’

  Mark positively beamed with pleasure. ‘Walter and I thought you’d approve. But let’s continue. As you remember the step-mother tells Cindy to bring her a brandy which Cindy does still wearing the gloves. So! Fait accompli. One simple action. Fingerprints of the step-mother and hers alone are now on gun and glass.’

  A smiling Walter took up the end of the plot. ‘Cindy goes to the phone and picks it up but this time of course, instead of Cindy reporting three murders she reports two murders… and a suicide. The Fairy Godmother then throws her arms up with a cry of delight. ‘You’ve got away with it Cindy. You’ve killed all three. And absolutely no risk of a trial let alone an indictment. Oh my clever, clever girl.’

  There was a spontaneous burst of applause from the cast and even Giles nodded as he glanced at Laura and Freddie who were clapping and smiling as if they themselves had written the last page of the play.

  ‘Thank you, thank you,’ Mark shouted over the applause calming everyone with downward waves of his arms. ‘There seems no doubt that you approve of the new ending and I’m confident that is the one we’ll use.’ Smiling broadly, he paused, waiting until the clapping had finally died down. ‘Walter and I have agreed that the Guild of Players, who own and run this theatre, must receive a suitable thank you for their splendid efforts on our behalf. This is already in place and we also owe our heartfelt thanks to you, Giles, for your inspired contribution. Professor Dawson you are indeed a magician of note. Thank you.’

  As the cast applauded with equal enthusiasm, Walter stepped forward. ‘We believe, Giles, that your reward will be the pleasure you get when you eventually see the play performed in front of an appreciative audience in a London theatre. And that may not be too long in coming.’

  Further applause was interrupted by Mark. ‘Right, back to work everyone. The weather outside is foul, and that seems to be in keeping with the foul deeds in our play,’ he said, giving Walter a wink. ‘It wouldn’t surprise me if we get thunder which would be most appropriate wouldn’t it when the final scene of the run-through is acted out. That would certainly provide the right atmosphere for the murders and suicide and in fact it might not be a bad idea to introduce thunder and lightning effects as the background for the closing scene when we perform before an audience. So let’s all head to the stage and give the final run-through the magical touch before we drink a toast to its success.’

  A loud clap of thunder brought an immediate burst of laughter from the cast.

  ‘I hope that does not affect the lights in the theatre,’ said Walter. ‘Or make that generator create that bloody noise again. If all the lights go out the theatre can be a very ghostly place in pitch darkness.’

  As they all left the comparative cosiness of the Green Room and made their way to the stage the lights flickered making the stairs difficult to negotiate. It wasn’t long, however, before everything was set for yet another hour and forty-five minutes of a play of magic, mystery and crime. A little
time was spent ensuring that all props were correctly identified and in their proper place and as soon as that was completed Mark and Walter went down to their seats in the stalls to watch.

  Outside the thunder rolled but for some reason or other the noise was barely noticeable in the auditorium and didn’t spoil the voices of the actors as they spoke their opening lines although Giles was aware of Mark’s startled and fearful face as he groped in his pocket for one of his pills. The first fifteen minutes of the play went off smoothly despite the occasional flicker of the stage lights and although the house lights in the auditorium were on, when they would normally be off during a theatre performance, it didn’t affect the enjoyment of those watching from the stalls.

  Settled comfortably between Laura and Freddie, Giles glanced at his watch. His first illusion would appear shortly. He turned to smile at Laura who’d slipped her hand into his when suddenly a deafening clamp of thunder froze the actors on the stage and before they could recover an explosion reverberated from the basement. The theatre lights flickered briefly then total darkness enveloped the auditorium.

  ‘Don’t anyone move,’ shouted Walter, as some of the cast rose to their feet. ‘Stay exactly where you are until those bloody lights go on again. If you try to walk about you might end up falling and being hurt and that’s the last thing we want.’ His words spat out like machine gun fire and his voice had a tone of not only urgency but panic.

  Giles felt Laura’s hand tighten. Her soft skin felt clammy and he was instantly aware of her anxiety when the lights dramatically went on again. ‘Just that old generator, Laura. Nothing to worry about,’ he reassured her; he squeezed her hand then checked his watch once more. He estimated the lights had been out for barely five minutes when he was startled by Walter’s voice.

  ‘Mark! Where the hell’s he gone?’

  Wherever he was he certainly wasn’t where he’d been when the lights went out. Giles jumped to his feet and started to leave the auditorium. ‘I think we’d better find him,’ he said, at the top of his voice. ‘If he’s been wandering about in the dark on those stairs he might have come a cropper.’ Giles began to descend the stairs that led to the basement. On his way down he came across the stage door keeper who said he’d thought he’d heard footsteps shortly after the lights went out.