Chapter 27
BUT NOT WITHOUT A PRICE
While waiting for the turmoil engendered by his last statement, Giles took time to watch the reactions of the theatre group. Reactions that varied from consternation to horror and as he took stock he was in no doubt of the general antipathy he had aroused. He glanced across to Laura and Freddie and nodded as he waited for the furore in the room to become hushed.
‘I know how deeply distressing this must be for all of you,’ interjected DS Miller, ‘but it is essential you allow Giles to proceed. He does so on my authority.’ Giles smiled his thanks and with no loss of composure, continued. ‘I want to take you back to the major happening for which I haven’t yet given an explanation. This is the alleged shooting of Cyril in the scene when he was meant to be shot by Cindy. Someone fired a gun; a gun that sounded like the shot from a gun firing a real bullet and not a blank. Although a dent or notch was found in the back wall of the stage, which might have been made by a bullet, no cartridge or slug was found. Cyril collapsed on the floor and his acting was applauded by those watching as being lifelike – or perhaps I should say death-like. According to the stage direction in the play his brother was to kneel down and pronounce him dead. But when Dicky did so, he appeared utterly devastated as he announced with terror that Cyril was in fact dead. You may remember that in his overpowering distress, Dicky would not allow anyone to come near the body and covered it with sacking. The CID of Dumfries-shire Police Force was called in and DS Miller and DC Watson came to investigate. When they went to examine the body it had disappeared. The sacking was still there and so was the gun that Cindy had dropped. There was no blood on the floor yet blood had clearly been seen on Dicky’s hands by all those watching the rehearsal. It was also evident on the upper left part of Cyril’s body. The question was who fired the gun and why?’
You could hear a pin drop as the cast waited with bated breath.
‘To determine who might have fired the gun it was essential to establish, as near as possible, where the shot came from. If a bullet had hit Cyril from in front of him the bullet would either have still been lodged in his body or would have travelled to the wall behind him. But then, Dicky, who was immediately behind him, would inevitably have been hit by the bullet as well. If that was the likely trajectory it must have been fired from somewhere behind Cindy but with Cindy being approached by Cyril, she herself would have been in the line of fire. That left me with a problem. With Cindy standing in front of Cyril and so close to him as he approached her it was virtually impossible for a shot to be fired from in front unless fired by Cindy herself.’
Cindy recoiled in horror. ‘But I never fired my gun,’ screeched Cindy. ‘And anyway it only fired blanks.’ She turned in anguish to the detectives. ‘DS Miller can vouch for that.’
‘I’m sure he can Cindy. I’m sure he can. And I’m certain he will. But that again presented me with a problem. Where did the shot come from and who fired it? And why was Cyril shot? Was it an attempt to kill him? Or simply wound him? Was he shot at all or was it an attempt to make it look as if he was shot? And, if so, why? why? why?’
‘And you think you can answer any of these questions, Mister Magician?’ yelled Walter smugly, jumping to his feet clearly delighted at the opportunity of challenging Giles.
‘Be seated Walter. And be silent,’ snapped DS Miller. ‘You may all seek clarification by all means but I want no interruption otherwise.’
‘Yes, Walter, I can.’ Unperturbed, Giles waited until, with obvious reluctance, Walter sat down. ‘Where,’ he continued, ‘did the shot come from and who fired it? It came from behind Cyril and it was fired by his twin brother Dicky.
Dicky sprang to his feet. ‘That’s preposterous! Attempt to kill my own brother? You must be mad. How could…’
Giles shouted down Dicky’s voice. ‘It wasn’t meant to kill or wound. Cyril wasn’t shot at all! The sole purpose was to make it appear that Cyril had been shot dead for the simple reason that with the body being left alone, on stage before the police were called in, Cyril could disappear and indulge in a grotesque game of ghost play with Mark.’
‘I’m confused. That doesn’t make any sense,’ said Grizelda. ‘What possible reason could Cyril have to disappear? You’re inferring something devious and frightening about what we all thought was a silly prank.’
‘And that’s precisely what you were supposed to be, Grizelda. What we were all meant to be. Confused and distracted. I think the perpetrator, or perpetrators even confused themselves at times, so bizarre were some of the exploits conceived by their disturbed minds – Cyril’s paralysis, Mark’s frothing at the mouth, to mention only two. Every single happening was orchestrated to create not only an atmosphere of fear and uncertainty, not only in Mark, but in all of us. And most importantly, to divert any possible future blame which might be directed at the poor twins whom we had been encouraged to believe had been constantly harassed by a tormentor with a grudge against them! And, Grizelda, you are also right in declaring that I am inferring the conception of a devious plan. A Machiavellian plan which would lead to death. Devious, frightening, staggering. But first Cyril had to make sure that when he was eventually discovered he had an injury to show that he’d been shot. He therefore made a puncture hole in his shoulder which was deeper than he intended, and bleeding so profusely he was obliged in the end to go to hospital for treatment. Which brings me to answer your question more fully, Grizelda – what did Cyril hope to achieve by this elaborate deception?’
The excited anticipation in the Green Room was palpable.
‘How interesting Giles,’ snorted Cyril. ‘An amusing piece of fiction to be sure – slanderous fiction, I may add. I warn you, Giles.’ Cyril looked from left to right encouraging support from his colleagues. ‘Take care. You’ve gone too far with all your fairy tales.’ He threw a contemptuous glance at Giles and was about to speak again when DS Miller’s stern voice echoed through the room.
‘Enough! When your comments are required, Cyril, I shall ask for them.’ He nodded, indicating to Giles that he should continue.
‘The sole purpose, ladies and gentlemen, of the elaborate plan was to frighten his uncle Mark. Put the fear of… not God, but the fear of an ancient Egyptian curse into him, thus preparing the way for murder to take place. I submit that you, Dicky, fired that gun carefully aiming it at the far wall but so positioned that the shot appeared to come from Cindy.’ Giles looked directly at Dicky. ‘You were in the army, Dicky, were you not? In the artillery, I believe, before you turned to the stage?
‘What of it?’ snarled Dicky, deep hatred lurking in the depth of his eyes. I suspect you were too Giles. Doing your National Service and all that.’ Dicky, with a look of contempt, plonked his feet down on a nearby chair and nonchalantly drew a cigarette from his pocket.
Giles ignored him. ‘I submit that Dicky fired that gun and that gun will still be in this theatre. In fact it may even be in this room, but apart from directing any possible future suspicion away from themselves, the gun was, in fact, no part of the plan to kill Mark. Purely a diversion.’
‘And pure supposition!’ Dicky smirked and waved his hands in satisfaction like a lawyer who had just won a tricky point and vanquished his opponent.
The Brigadier put up his hand like a schoolboy. ‘Why did Mark leave the auditorium when the lights went out? And how can you be so certain that poor Mark was actually murdered?’ he ventured.
‘Those were precisely the questions I asked myself, Brigadier. I believe Mark was startled by the first clap of thunder. I saw him delve into his pockets for his tablets and pop one into his mouth. Though we all believed those pills were essential to prevent the onset of panic attacks, sadly no such pills exist.’
‘But Mark swore by them,’ said Cindy. ‘He was never without them.’
‘Quite so. And more importantly, the murderer was also under this illusion. In desperation, I imagine Mark bought some placebo from the chemist when his doctor advised hi
m there was no medication that would be helpful.’
‘More supposition! When will this end?’ Dicky threw a look of contempt at Giles, expelling rings of smoke from his cigarette. ‘Well, I for one have had enough of this. I’m off.’
‘I’ll join you Dicky,’ said Cyril. I’m sick of all those innuendoes and false accusations.’
But as they rose, DS Miller raised his hands. ‘Not quite yet, sirs. I will advise you when you may leave. Giles, I believe has not finished.’ He gestured to Giles to continue.
With barely suppressed fury the twins sank back in their chairs.
‘Knowing that Mark would need his pills in such a state of fear, the murderer seized the heaven-sent opportunity of the thunder to kill Mark. When the lights went out and Mark in panic fled from the auditorium, Dicky and his accomplice crept after him. It would be no problem to creep up behind him in the dark and slip the pills from his pocket where he habitually kept them, thus ensuring there would be no possibility of Mark swallowing some to alleviate the severity of his panic. A panic which the murderers were planning to dramatically intensify. Staged spectres of Egyptian princesses and whispered curses emanating simultaneously from both behind and in front would be child’s play to any actor with easy access to a props room. Manoeuvred to stand with his back to the top of the stairs, one final ghostly apparition would be all that was needed to produce a massive surge of adrenaline which caused Mark’s sudden death.’
‘The proof, Prof. Let’s have it and get this charade over and done with,’ cried Walter, a sigh of contempt and exasperation escaping from his lips. ‘You have no proof of all this whatsoever.’
‘You are wrong, Walter. I have concrete proof. Proof, which I admit escaped me until this very night. From my deductions, I knew who the murderer was. I knew the motive. I knew the method. But the cunning of the murderer may have allowed him to escape unpunished but for one factor. And it was the murderer himself who betrayed himself by one ruse too many, supplying me with the concrete proof that I needed – a spontaneous action of his which ironically was entirely unnecessary. Without this ruse the murderer would have committed the fabled perfect crime. As I have said I had all the pieces of the puzzle yet they didn’t fit. Some essential ingredient was missing – an ingredient I found when I read the list of Mark’s personal belongings that was brought to me from the hospital. I found that ingredient because it wasn’t there.’
‘For God’s sake you’re talking in riddles again.’ said Walter keeping his voice down with conspicuous effort.
‘That’s as maybe. I’ll try to be very clear in what I say next. What I was looking for that wasn’t there was Mark’s box of pills. That clinched it. Only the murderer could have removed them. Although it’s likely his pills would have no medical effect that would help Mark, his nephew wouldn’t be aware of that and would have removed them to be certain they couldn’t be used. That clinched it.’
‘Can I ask a question, Giles?’ asked Cindy. ‘What possible reason could either of the twins have for killing their own uncle?’
‘Indeed Cindy, that concerned me for some time as I was convinced that all the inexplicable things that had happened here in this theatre were connected. I had to look for a motive and it was only when I recalled the first time I ever met Mark that the motive became evident. He told me that his young sister had died in childbirth. That sister was the mother of the twins and as they grew up they learned that their mother died believing she was a victim of the curse that beleaguered the entire family. The fear of that curse was, I believe, fostered unwittingly through the years by Mark himself by his constant assertion that the curse had dire consequences for the family. Ironically it was Mark’s own paranoia, increasing year by year which fostered the twins’ hatred for their uncle.’
Cries of disbelief sprang from everyone’s lips.
‘You are surprised?’ said Giles, mildly. ‘Such devoted nephews who showed such loving concern for their uncle’s welfare? False! Rather they held him in bitterest contempt. Mark’s constant anguish and his irrational fears were taken by the twins to be a manifestation of his guilt – guilt at having destroyed their mother. Mark was a murderer. An elaborate plot was hatched to end his life. A plot which would be fortuitously aided by several days in the ghostly setting of this very theatre. Their motive, ladies and gentlemen, was revenge.’
Giles paused in response to the collective gasp from his audience. He looked enquiringly at DS Miller who indicated he should continue. He was aware that Cindy wished to speak and with a motion of his hand invited her to have her say.
‘But the pills,’ Cindy spoke in almost a whisper. ‘Where are they now?’
‘DS Miller will no doubt find them in the pocket of either Dicky or Cyril.’
As the detectives moved forward, Dicky leapt to his feet brandishing a pistol. ‘Damn you, Giles. May you rot in hell!’ he yelled.
‘No, no. For God’s sake no!’ screamed Laura, throwing herself in front of Giles.
Staggering from the force of Laura’s body Giles’ head jerked backwards as the shot rang out. He felt Laura stiffen, convulse once, twice, then slacken in his arms. Gently he carried the body of his beloved Laura to the sofa, the last time he would ever hold her in his arms. Framing her face with his hands, he kissed her tenderly on the lips. Numb with devastation he allowed Freddie to guide him to a chair. Freddie, weeping freely for the tragic death of Laura and for the grief of his greatest friend, struggling to find the impossible words of comfort, he grasped Giles’ shoulder, muttering, ‘I don’t know what to say, I…’
‘There are no words, Freddie.’ Giles’ voice was flat, emotionless. ‘There are no words.’
NOTES FOR CURIOUS MINDS
1. The Theatre Royal, Dumfries was built in 1792 and is the oldest working theatre in Scotland. The Theatre is owned by the Guild of Players who bought it in 1959, thereby saving it from demolition.
2. Guild of Players – The Guild’s aim is to promote the tradition of live theatre in Dumfries, for the enjoyment of members and the public alike. It is the venue for the Guild of Players’ own productions and for performances from visiting companies.
3. Mostly Ghostly Investigations is Dumfries and Galloway’s first paranormal team and creators of the Dumfries Ghost Walk and Haunted Theatre Tour. Mostly Ghostly are primarily interested in all things ghost, spirit and ‘entity’ related. The four people in the team are united by their close friendships and determination to explore the unknown.
4. The tale of the Curse of the Egyptian Princess of Amen-Ra and legendary connection with the sinking of the Titanic has been told many times. The wooden coffin lid purported to be that of Amen-Ra is known as the ‘Unlucky Mummy’ and is the most popular exhibit in the British Museum.
MY THANKS TO
Guild of Players (Owners of the Theatre Royal, Dumfries) for their unstinting efforts to show me round the theatre and explain what the theatre was like in 1967. And for allowing me to use their theatre as the location for my plot in The Cinderella Murders.
Mostly Ghostly for extensive information about ghostly happenings in the theatre during their investigations.
The Cinderella Murders Page 23
