The Hangman's Lair (14 page)

I flashed him a cheesy grin. ‘Hello,’ I said weakly.

‘Good afternoon to you, Mr Frye,’ cried Uncle Raphael, scuttering out from behind the bar and skipping over to him like an eager puppy. ‘Saxby here has been quite the theatrical critic.’ He laughed, too long and loud.

‘Indeed,’ said Godfrey Frye. ‘I’ve never received quite such a cutting review. I’m glad I only heard the end of it.’

Uncle Raphael laughed again, and again it was too long and too loud. The cousins and the restaurant chef seemed to have vanished into thin air. Izzy was looking sheepish.

‘How was the remainder of your evening yesterday, after our little head-to-head, as it were, Mr Frye?’ gushed Uncle Raphael. ‘And I trust today has been a restful one?’

‘Thank you, yes,’ said Godfrey Frye. ‘The spirits have allowed me some peace since breakfast time.’

‘Splendid, splendid,’ said Uncle Raphael.

I thought about the way Godfrey Frye had been so cold-heartedly fooling people with his stage act. There was no way I was going to let the likes of him scare me. I gave a sort of half-huff, half-snort.

‘Do you have a cold, Mr Smart?’ said Godfrey Frye.

‘No, I’m snorting with derision,’ I said. ‘Spirits, eh?’

‘I have encountered many sceptics during my years of contact with the departed,’ said Mr Frye with an icy smile. ‘I have yet to meet one whom I could not convince in the end.’

‘Well, you have now,’ I said. ‘I’m sorry, but it’s all trickery. And quite simple trickery, at that.’

‘You accuse me of deception and yet you lied to me about your identity,’ said Mr Frye. ‘Which one of us is the trickster?’

Uncle Raphael laughed so long and loud I thought he might burst a blood vessel. ‘Let’s leave Saxby and my niece to their own devices, shall we? If you’d like to follow me, Mr Frye, I have your contract ready with regard to the, ahh, business matter we discussed yesterday.’

‘But Uncle Raphael!’ cried Izzy. ‘Have you not listened to what Saxby’s said? Haven’t we proved to you that Godfrey Frye’s stage act is just that? An act?’

Raphael shuffled uncomfortably on the spot. His gaze flicked around the room, resting everywhere except on us and Godfrey Frye. ‘Not at all. You’ve shown me how
you
would
pretend
to have Mr Frye’s psychic abilities, but Mr Frye himself has clearly demonstrated to audiences, in public, night after night, on that stage over there, that his skills bring wonder and joy to all who witness them. And that’s good enough for me.’

Godfrey Frye took a step towards me. His piercing eyes glared into mine. It took every bit of selfcontrol I had not to look away.

‘Young people show such a lack of trust these days,’ he hissed. ‘Such a lack of faith. It’s quite disappointing, quite upsetting.’

‘Come along, then, old chap,’ said Uncle Raphael to Godfrey Frye. He began to lead Frye away, his arms waving this way and that, as if Frye was a bad-tempered goose that might wander off at any moment.

‘The, er, special event I mentioned,’ he said, as they moved away towards the backstage corridor. ‘It’s scheduled for tomorrow night, at ten.’

‘You’ve spoken to Mr Green?’ said Godfrey Frye.

‘I called him late last night,’ said Raphael. ‘It was only early evening over there, of course, because of the time difference. I told him about my idea and he was very keen, very keen. He arrives later today.’

They vanished from sight, Raphael still herding Godfrey Frye like a nervous shepherd.

‘Right, that’s it,’ muttered Izzy. ‘We have to tell my uncle we know what he’s planning. There’s no other way now.’

She hopped off her stool. I grabbed her arm before she could chase after him.

‘Wait!’ I said. Then I said ‘wait’ again, because no other words would squeeze out of my brain.

I was staring into mid-air. If I’d been able to drop-stretch my lower jaw to the ground with a mighty clang, I definitely would have.

‘Good grief,’ I gasped, finally. ‘This whole case. I’ve got it completely wrong. I’ve been looking at it back to front the entire time!’

‘What do you mean?’ said Izzy

I gawped at her. ‘Your uncle is not the one who’s set this situation up.’

‘But this card game was his idea,’ said Izzy.

I shook my head slowly. ‘Oh no it wasn’t. Godfrey Frye’s been behind it all along. What’s more, Frye is in league with this American gambler, this Mr Green. Frye and Green are in it together, to con your uncle out of all that money.’

‘But how do you know?’ said Izzy.

Hurriedly, I took out my notebook to check that I was right. I read through yesterday’s conversation between Uncle Raphael and Godfrey Frye, the one I wrote down behind the sofa.

‘A couple of minutes ago,’ I said, snapping my notebook shut again, ‘Godfrey Frye said something which gave himself away. Your uncle didn’t spot it, but I did.’

‘What was it?’

It was only a small detail. But it was something Frye couldn’t have said, unless he and the American were working as a team.

Have you spotted it too?

‘Frye mentioned the American gambler by name,’ I said. ‘He referred to him as Mr Green. But your uncle had never told him what this man was called. Last night, he only mentioned that the gambler was an American. And he hasn’t spoken to Frye since last night, as was clear when Frye came in just now.’

‘I see what you mean,’ said Izzy. ‘Frye must know who this Mr Green is.’

‘Why didn’t I see it earlier?’ I cried. ‘This is a deliberate con. Frye travels around doing his psychic act. Quite often, he’ll come across daft suckers who believe he’s genuine. Now and again, he’ll come across a daft sucker who also has a pile of cash.

‘At which point, he alerts his friend, Mr Green. Mr Green comes along, as if by coincidence, and just happens to let slip to Daft Sucker With Money that he’s a professional gambler. At which point, Daft Sucker With Money thinks to himself, a-ha, I’ve got a clever idea.

‘Ahhhggh! Frye must have been delighted when he met your uncle. The Pig and Fiddle is the perfect set-up for a con like this. A theatrical venue, attached to a hotel. These two con men make Daft Sucker With Money think it’s all
his
idea, so when it all goes belly-up, he doesn’t even realise he’s been conned. Frye has his ready-made excuse for losing – ooooh-er, the spirits were angry – and Green just has to nip in, win the money and nip out again.’

‘So Green will be cheating anyway,’ said Izzy

‘Absolutely,’ I said. ‘Any card game you like. They can let Daft Sucker With Money pick whatever he wants to play, it won’t matter.’

‘Right,’ said Izzy. ‘Now we really can go to Uncle Raphael. We can expose Frye and stop the game from happening.’

I thought for a moment. ‘No. We can’t do that. Frye and Green – huh, if those really are their names - might have been pulling scams like this for years. If we send Frye packing, he’ll only go and start up somewhere else. We have to put them out of business.’

‘How? Frye’s on to you. Your cover’s blown.’

‘Er, not sure yet.’

‘Shouldn’t we just tell the police?’ said Izzy. ‘On second thoughts, we can’t do that either. For one thing, a con man as sharp as Frye might well smell a rat. And for another thing, my uncle might still get into trouble for setting the game up, even if it wasn’t really his idea.’

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

T
IME: 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.