The Three Locks Bonnie MacBird (best non fiction books to read .TXT) 📖

‘Santo and I, we were once engaged to be married. He was, is, a good magician. He was looking for a pretty woman to assist him in his act. He hired me from many girls because I do more than assist. I invent, direct, improve. He quickly saw my value.’

‘How did you gain your skills, Madame?’ Holmes asked.

‘But the finger!’ I exclaimed. ‘What of this finger?’

She ignored me. ‘My father and my uncle. Both magicians in Sicily. We had a library of books, all of them I read. I improved their acts. At twelve years old.’

She had clearly captured Holmes’s interest. ‘Yes, go on,’ he urged.

‘Most men do not listen to a girl. But I did not care, and I made them hear me. I went to Rome, working as assistant to famous magician, and helping him too. My reputation grew. Then I met Santo. Together we form a great act, and he does mind-reading and also the hand magic.’

‘Hand magic?’ asked Holmes, opening one eye. ‘Do you mean close-up magic?’

‘Yes. You can stand very close and look carefully, and still you cannot see how is done. I gave him many ideas, so he is very, very good. Very fast, the hands. Coins, cards, even things on fire, he hides quickly. Dangerous. I designed all this. We were good partners.’

‘But this finger …’ I said.

Holmes gave me a sharp glance. ‘Stolen from a cadaver, most likely, Watson. A theatrical touch but not one of interest to us at this precise moment. Isn’t that right, Madame Borelli?’

The lady waved her hand dismissively, then put a finger her lips. True or not, she was not about to say.

‘You were in love with Santo, working with him and helping him with his act, then you met Dario?’ prompted Holmes.

The lady smiled. ‘Yes. Dario and me, one year ago, we were in love, even from the first seeing. The first seconds. It was instant. It was perfect. But Santo … he saw, of course.’

‘Yes, a mind reader,’ said Holmes sardonically.

‘You mean an actual mind reader?’ I asked.

Holmes sighed. ‘There are no actual mind readers, Watson. Dear God, what happened to you in Bath? This Colangelo is probably just observant. And for performances, there are devices. Spies who provide advance information. Codes to convey facts without others noticing. It is all rather simple.’ He turned to the lady. ‘In any case, Santo did not miss the attraction. Go on.’

‘Dario and I, we married a month later. Two days after wedding, Santo threatened Dario. Nothing came from this, but eight months later Santo made mistake while performing, and he lost the tip of a finger.’

Holmes leaned forward. ‘How?’

‘Yes, how do you lose a finger while mind-reading?’ I asked. The two of them had vexed me beyond all patience.

‘Another part of show: the close-up. Santo has a little guillotine. Is a device Dario sold to him. Very common trick, but I have changed it and made much more exciting. But something … something went wrong. It chopped off the end of Santo’s finger. And this for him is a tragedy. The close-up magic relies on the quick fingers.’

‘Did you examine the device after?’ asked Holmes.

‘No. Santo did not allow.’

‘You said Dario sold him the device, which you had improved. In what way did you make this trick more exciting?’ persisted Holmes.

‘A real human finger come out. With real blood.’

‘Ugh,’ I said.

‘The children love it!’ said Madame.

‘More fingers! And how does one manage the sheer volume required?’ I asked.

‘Purchased, Watson!’ Holmes asked. ‘As this one no doubt was!’

I wondered about the black market in body parts for stage magicians. ‘Perhaps you could patronize Madame Tussaud!’ I suggested.

‘Many tricks are dangerous,’ said the lady. ‘And complicated. They require skill and courage. Especially those of the Great Borelli. Mi Dario is the escape-artist king. He goes chained into the ocean or a big tank of water. We set fire to a big copper pot while he is tied up inside. Or in a box which falls from great height. Tricks require great skill, great courage. Otherwise, everyone would do them.’

‘Back to this finger,’ Holmes said. ‘This Santo Colangelo fellow is vengeful. He believes Dario carried out this sabotage. So just now he sent you a finger. A warning, perhaps?’

‘That is what I would like you to find out.’

Holmes did the calculation. ‘This accident that ruined Colangelo’s finger? Three months ago, then?’

‘Three months, yes.’

Holmes offered a cigarette to the lady. She declined and he lit one for himself. ‘You have been married only eleven months. And yet already you have fallen out of love with your new husband.’

She stood up abruptly. ‘You! You are a real mind reader. How you know this? How you see this?’

‘Oh, do sit down,’ said Holmes irritably.

I stood and gestured politely. This was an excitable lady. ‘Please,’ I added. I poured her another tea. At least one of us had manners. ‘Have a biscuit.’

She eyed the platter, took one, and sat down.

‘I merely observe,’ remarked Holmes. ‘You are twisting your wedding ring constantly and flicking it with your finger. Dismissive. You wish to be rid of it. You wish to be rid of Dario. Those bruises are exactly what we first surmised. Your husband is rough with you. He does not appreciate you. But aside from all that, you have come here for help.’

‘All right, yes. I want you to find who hurt Santo, causing him to lose a finger. It is not Dario Borelli, I am sure. If we learn the truth, Santo will no longer threaten Dario. Then … only then … I can leave Dario, happy because I know he will be safe.’

Holmes and I exchanged a glance. This was a formidable lady who not only improved her lovers’ magic acts but protected them, as a mother might look after a wayward child. Fickle, perhaps, but she could afford to be. Ilaria Borelli defined, I suppose, a bold new kind of woman. I briefly wondered what being married to such a