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A Free Sample of The Mysterious Death Of Martini The Magician

Chapter 1 – The Mysterious Death Of Martini The Magician

NOVEMBER 1949

Martini the Magician peeped through the worn red “velvet” curtains that were draped across the small stage, that was at one end of the basement level “Ballroom”. The word “Ballroom” was a rather grand name for the somewhat dilapidated room, that was housed in an even more dilapidated Manor, on the outskirts of Bodmin Moor in the English County of Cornwall. The Manor had served many different functions over the years but presently it was acting as a somewhat remote hotel.

As far as Martini could tell, as his darting eyes surveyed the audience before him, the entire population of guests from the hotel had gathered in the Ballroom. Some he knew, of course, but quite a few of them were not familiar to him. He found himself wondering how some of them had heard about this “Prelude” to his new “Magic Show”. Certainly, he had invited a few chosen members of the audience. Highly intelligent people with analytical minds had been sought out and invited to witness his new act. He hoped that, despite their demeanor, they would not be able to work out how his illusion was achieved and therefore endorse its effectiveness.

It was strange, he thought, that the room had at least twice as many people in it, than he had invited. He was completely ignorant about the fact that a huge wall of resentment resided on the other side of the curtain, it may have been somewhat dispersed amongst some of the guests around the room, but it was there, nonetheless. It was bitter, it was twisted and poised in an attack position, ready to pounce. If Martini had known it was there, in such abundance, he would not have gone ahead with the show, and the whole weekend would have been cancelled long ago. His ignorance of this resentment was of his own making. He had gone to great lengths not to mix with anyone else staying at the Manor. He prided himself on his professional detachment, and successful isolation, leading up to this moment.

One of the two showgirls, that were accompanying him for this performance, asked him if he was ready. Martini nodded as he stepped back into the wings. The show started, as she stepped to centre stage and introduced him. He marched on stage, to replace her, as the audience politely applauded, and he launched himself into his opening address.

A few minutes later the music, playing on the large gramophone, started to intensify. Martini was now handcuffed and chained. His bonds were checked by the show girls as he stepped into a “man-size” illusion box, and they closed the door behind him. The girls had already made a big thing of turning the box around in a full circle, to demonstrate how solid it was.

The music started to grow to a crescendo, as both girls knelt down and picked up two swords, one in each hand. Then they took turns thrusting the swords into their side of the box with growing gusto. Each sword penetrated the box and continued all the way in, where Martin stood, until the tip was thrust out the other side. It was a most effective illusion, it looked like Martini had no way of avoiding being speared by the long swords and the audience gasped on every thrust. Some even looking away as they feared the worst. Then, with much panache, the girls grabbed the box and turned it all the way round until the door was back where it started, facing the audience. They then, in turn, pulled the swords, one at a time, back out of the box and laid them on the floor. The music was now in its final throws and about to come to an end, as the audience watched on the edge of their seats. The showgirls unbolted the door, and then slowly opened it.

They were supposed to reveal that Martini had disappeared into thin air, leaving the illusion box completely empty. Unfortunately, something had gone wrong! Instead, the door had opened to reveal Senor Martini, still stood on his feet, but slumped unconscious against the side of the box. Someone in the audience screamed and, as the girls hurriedly opened the door, he fell out, face first, flat onto the floor. Both of the show girls let out a blood curdling scream as the motionless man lay on the floor. His body was not punctured and there was no blood, but a quick examination showed him to be quite dead. The audience froze in horror, most of them wide eyed with shock, but someone in that room had known what would happen. Someone in that room had arranged the whole thing. Someone in that room had caused the mysterious death of Martini the magician.

Chapter 4 – The Mother of Invention

FOUR YEARS EARLIER - SEPTEMBER 1945

In a small camp in Burma, the Bombardier admired his moustache in the cracked mirror, hung inside his tent. It was exceptionally bushy at the moment. It gave him an extra air of authority which he found very satisfying. “Jolly good show!” he thought. His final address to the men at the end of this long and unforgiving conflict would be stirring and rousing, showing off his immense leadership skills to best effect. He took great pride in his military prowess and great care of the fortunate chaps that served under him. He was well liked by his troops and commanded everyone’s respect. His cunning military tactics had saved lives on numerous occasions and also advanced the cause of the campaign. He took a moment to reflect, literally, as he stared into the mirror one last time before carrying out his last duty as a military man.

The flap of the tent flew open and Pimms, the Bombardiers Batman, rushed inside and saluted very strongly. His eager hand was held rigidly against his forehead.

“Sergeant Stout says the men are all lined up, ready for you Sir!” Pimms announced. “Do you need any help with any last-minute tweaks with your dress uniform Sir? Be glad to assist Sir!”

The Bombardier smiled to himself, Pimms was the best Batman he had ever known. He was always so devoted and keen to assist. The Bombardiers perfectly pressed dress uniform was a credit to the man, how on earth had he found a way to iron the Bombardiers shirt, here in the middle of the Jungle? And the creases in his trousers were spot-on. Pimms was just so exceptional, he decided. The man undertook each task the Bombardier gave him with such enthusiasm, and aplomb. How on earth would the Bombardier manage without him once they were both demobbed. It would be a tragedy to lose such a useful assistant.

“Thank you Pimms, I think I’m ready!” he turned towards his Batman. “What do you think?”

“Oh Sir!” exclaimed Pimms excitedly as he looked the Bombardier up and down “You look splendid Sir, a credit to the uniform Sir! You will make the men so proud Sir!” He saluted again. The Bombardier looked at Pimms and was suddenly saddened that this would be their last day together and felt compelled to say something.

“Pimms?” The Bombardier started, slowly pacing around the batman like an inspection was taking place, “What are you planning to do when you return to Blighty?” Pimms looked at him puzzled,

“Well I hadn’t really thought about it sir!” He lied as his head suddenly studied the ground

“Haven’t you?” replied the Bombardier.

“No Sir, I haven’t liked to think about it!”

“Really?” said the Bombardier “Whys that?”

“Well Sir, he stuttered nervously “I...I...I..er...I...I ...er.... was rather enjoying....  serving under you, Sir!” his right foot kicked the ground completely unnecessarily, “So I have just... er.... concentrated on.... attending to my duties, Sir!” He paused apologetically “Not really thought about anything else Sir!”

“Well yes, yes” returned the Bombardier, “I understand that it's been vital for both of us to focus on matters in hand.” He paused for thought “Afterall, this has been a bit of a tricky campaign and it was vital for both of us to be at our best, especially for the men!”

“Oh ra-ther Sir!” replied Pimms with sudden pride.

The whole platoon had been through hell and back and thanks to the Bombardier they had nearly all made it back alive. It had been daring, dangerous and at times horrific, but after all that, only the Bombardier would be modest enough to say it had just been “a bit tricky”. Pimms felt so privileged and honoured to have served with this enormously brave man, this towering leader, this astounding commander... this phenomenal.....

“But!” added the Bombardier, interrupting Pimms thoughts. “The time has now come for ALL of us to consider our futures!” Pimms saluted, “...and it’s in that vein, that I address you now Pimms!”

Pimms mind started to summersault in turmoil, he knew this day would come, of course it had to come. The entire troop knew that they would all be together until either death or glory brought the association to an end. That was the way of warfare when you were an invading platoon. It was simply how it was. Nothing to discuss. But to Pimms the thought of being separated from his beloved Commander was truly devastating. And now here it was. He was about to be reminded of their imminent separation. The moment he had dreaded was upon him. Pimms held his breath to stop him himself from exploding with despair. He made a deliberate effort to slow down his breathing and regain control of his inner turmoil.

It was only then that he realised that the Bombardier had continued talking, while Pimms mind had wondered off into his own thoughts. For the very first time, since he had been under the Bombardiers command, Pimms hadn’t been listening to his commanding officer when he was addressing him. Just the thought that he wasn’t been attentive sent him off on another round of self-beratement, causing him to miss even more of the Bombardiers speech.

Suddenly he was brought back to the moment. “So, what do you say Pimms?”

“Sir?” Pimms grimace did little to hide his confusion but the Bombardier had been pacing up and down in his usual fashion when delivering his oration. He not seen the pantomime that had just taken place on his Batman’s face.

“Would that be agreeable to you Pimms?”

“Well, er.. er.. I expect so Sir?” He replied.

“You expect so Pimms?” said the Bombardier abruptly.

“Well Sir I er…!”

“Honestly Pimms, if you’d rather not move in with me and assist me in my next venture. I would much rather you said so directly, rather than be hesitant about it.”

“Sir?” said Pimms excitedly, not believing his ears had just heard the very last thing he had expected the Bombardier to say.

“I could take offence at that you know, I didn’t think I was that hard to bunk down with, after all we have lived in a tent together for the last year and i thought we got on rather well! But if you’d rather go off to “Civvy Street” on your own, I suppose that’s your choice, after all…..” He continued his rant, but he may as well not have bothered because Pimms was hearing none of it. His mind was soaring in delight at the prospect of continuing his association with the Bombardier, his fondest hope had come true. It had actually come true. They would have a future together. If only Pimms could now find a way to calm the Bombardier down and convince him that his Batman was not hesitant at all. That he would be delighted to be his assistant in the new venture. To do that all Pimms had to do was to challenge the chain of command and correct his Commanding Officer. Unfortunately, in the military, that was a Court Martial offence.