The Three Locks by Bonnie MacBird (learn to read books txt) 📕

She nodded.

‘Ah, yes!’ Holmes enthused. ‘A beautiful woman. And that voice—’

‘Holmes loves the opera,’ I interjected, attempting to cover this insensitivity.

Catching himself, Holmes turned to the police detective. ‘But never mind. I suggest you send your men to the station after all, Lestrade.’

‘On the trail of a dead man! Now why should I do that? Borelli’s clothes are still in his hotel room.’

‘Expensive tastes, remember? Look for that velvet jacket. It will be gone, I wager. In his room you will only find cheap replacements bought for the illusion. And it is indeed an illusion, worthy of a conjuring star. I can prove the body in the cauldron is not Dario Borelli.’

Lestrade snorted. ‘“Data, data,” as you like to say. The buckles?’

‘Certainly. Borelli broke his ankle last week, Dr Watson here set it, and the man could not have been wearing two shoes when he entered the cauldron. He could not get a shoe on over that splint. Ask your audience that. Some will remember.’

Lestrade blinked. ‘No one could pull that off: get in, and then leap out and put another person in! His own stage manager said he did not emerge.’

‘Yes, have you found Falco Fricano yet?’

Hamilton appeared behind Lestrade. ‘No Fricano,’ he said.

‘I expect he was Borelli’s accomplice. There was much to arrange, and in a short time. Madame Borelli is no easy mark. Lestrade, I suggest you put more men on it. Fricano cannot have gone far.’

Lestrade paused, then to his credit, agreed. He turned to Hamilton and a young constable. ‘Find the stage manager! Now!’ Realizing this left the lady unguarded, he quickly handcuffed her to the chair.

‘Mr Lestrade!’ I exclaimed, finding this remarkably insensitive.

He stepped away, presumably to request reinforcements. Holmes flashed me a small smile.

Lestrade returned, and Holmes continued. ‘Consider these facts. Someone went to a great deal of trouble to disguise the identity of the body. That man was soaked, painted perhaps in some kind of highly flammable liquid or gel. All identifiers including clothes and facial features would be destroyed. Of course, they wanted everyone to think it was Borelli, and so they selected someone of a similar stature. Planted the buckles and the ring.’

‘But,’ said Lestrade, rubbing his chin, ‘how did they get this “other person” into the cauldron? And who is he?’

‘Borelli entered the cauldron and then immediately exited the back, as usual. Fricano, who was complicit, lied about that. I believe you will discover the corpse is that of a man named Santo Colangelo. Presumably he was drugged and covered in this chemical, then loaded in. The back hatch, which usually opened easily, was then secured with the newly added latch. The front as well.’

‘Then he was unconscious, or he would have struggled. But screams were heard.’

‘Colangelo must have come to at some point. Oh, and some kind of kindling substance, highly flammable, was added. That caused the “foof” described to us. And, sadly, the demise of the poor young lady.’ He squinted. ‘Powdered magnesium and potassium chlorate would be my guess.’

‘What is that?’

‘Quite a new thing. “Blitzlicht” it is called. It is used by photographers. You have been no doubt temporarily blinded when you were captured by a camera in service of the newspaper men?’

Madame Borelli moaned slightly at the thought.

Lestrade was still not convinced. ‘Who added the latch – er, the latches – then, if not this clever woman?’

‘Fricano, or Borelli himself. Both have the skills. And while Madame was on her errand earlier today, he worked very quickly to pack the bare minimum of his own things – his favourites, no doubt – and replace them with cheap substitutes to make you think he had never left. He and his accomplice, for it must have taken at least two to manage all of this, drugged the lady and set her here in the manner you found her.’

‘Yes, and I do not even drink the gin,’ offered Madame.

‘Applied to your lips, Madame Borelli,’ said Holmes.

‘Then what, Holmes?’ said Lestrade.

‘The act proceeded as normal, with the newly trained assistant, poor Miss Durgen, none the wiser. She lit the match and dropped it in, sealing both Colangelo’s fate and her own. Perhaps more flash powder than was needed had been introduced and that killed her. I doubt that she was an intended victim.’

Lestrade hesitated. No one likes to be topped, even by Sherlock Holmes. ‘Plausible, Mr Holmes, but I am not convinced the corpse is not Borelli’s,’ said he. ‘The body is the same size; it has been confirmed.’

‘Check his teeth. They will have survived. The man I mentioned, Santo Colangelo is a rival conjurer. He has a small diamond embedded in his left canine.’

Lestrade nodded at the young officer guarding the cauldron. ‘Look at his tooth.’

With a shudder, the fellow leaned into the deadly sphere. A retching noise echoed within it, and he backed out quickly. ‘Ugh. It’s there, sir.’

‘Dario Borelli is responsible for tonight’s drama. I suggest you wire Berlin,’ said Holmes.

Lestrade sighed. To his credit, he knew when he was beaten. ‘All right, Mr Holmes. But you must give me this. I do know when to call you in.’

Holmes smiled, a little too self-satisfied, I thought, in the face of all this tragedy.

‘Please unlock Madame Borelli. She has suffered enough today,’ I admonished. The poor woman was pale with emotion, her eyes closed. She opened them suddenly and handed Lestrade his handcuffs, having freed herself while we had been looking elsewhere.

‘What?’ exclaimed Lestrade.

Holmes shrugged and smiled insouciantly. ‘Child’s play, Mr Lestrade. I warrant your gaol could not have held her. Good evening.’

I turned to Madame. ‘Do you have somewhere to go, Madame, to take comfort?’

She waved me off. ‘I will be fine,’ said she. ‘I have friends here in London.’

CHAPTER 27

Vanished

Once again back at Baker Street, now near midnight, we were surprised to find Mrs Hudson still awake. ‘That young lady, Mr Holmes. She would not stay. Insisted on returning to Cambridge, even at such a late hour. I tried to convince