The Traitor's Bones

by Evelyn James

  Coppens paused for a second, thinking to himself.

  “Please, just a moment,” he raised a hand to emphasise his words then went to the door of the room.

  Coppens called for his wife and when she appeared they had a hasty and hushed conversation in French. Then she departed and he returned to Clara.

  “My wife knew better than I did,” he gave an embarrassed smile. “There is an old woman who was the neighbour of the Devereauxs. She now lives in a home for the elderly up the hill. Her name is Madame Smet. I can give you the address. She may be able to help you.”

  “Thank you, that would be most useful.”

  Clara and Annie departed the Coppens’ home with a parcel of documents and photographs wrapped in brown paper, and more questions than answers. Clara felt as if her head was spinning with information, but none of it seemed relevant just yet. There was still much to discover, still a lot more secrets this town was clutching onto.

  After a quick check of the time and a map Annie had bought in a shop, they set off for their next stop. Maybe Madame Smet could offer them some fresh ideas.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Colonel Brandt and Tommy arrived at the local police station and asked if it would be possible to see the person in charge. Colonel Brandt used his rank to press home their request, also hinting that they were investigating a military matter from during the war. Lound’s supposed treachery was certainly something the military were interested in, so the suggestion did not seem unreasonable.

  After a short wait, they were introduced to the Belgium police force’s equivalent of a Chief Inspector. He was a man by the name of Peeters, and he invited Brandt and Tommy into his office.

  “What is this matter that concerns you so?” He asked once they were all seated.

  “Five years ago, a man disappeared from this town, his name was Father Lound and he was suspected of being a traitor to the British,” Tommy explained. “He was never located and we have been asked to investigate the matter further and to determine whether he was guilty of treason, or whether his good name has been unfairly sullied.”

  “As you may appreciate, it has taken several years post-war to catch up with all these affairs,” Colonel Brandt added, acting like the good military official he had once been. “Father Lound’s case was fairly low on our case list, we have only just got around to it.”

  “I understand,” Peeters answered. He was a young man for his role, probably only just reaching his late thirties. He had very dark hair and an elegant moustache. He seemed quite serious, but was also most polite and proper. He was easily old enough to remember Father Lound’s disappearance. “I will be glad to help settle this matter for the British. I did not realise Father Lound’s loyalty was still under investigation.”

  “It has been kept very quiet,” Colonel Brandt elaborated. “For the sake of the family. There was not enough evidence at the time to prove for certain the father was a spy, and it would be a terrible thing to label him a traitor without good cause. The damage to his family would be simply unbearable. Father Lound vanished before a proper investigation could be carried out and there was not the time nor the resources in 1917 to pursue him. It was thought best to let the matter drop. Now we have the time and, perhaps more to the point, the interest, to discover the truth.”

  “I only knew of Father Lound vaguely,” Peeters continued. “I was an inspector back then. I was always very busy, but not directly with Albion Hope. That place caused us no problems. No, I seemed to always be running about after thieves in those days. People thought they could rob some of the abandoned houses, and the not so abandoned ones too. Then there were the minor crimes, fist fights, quarrels gone too far, occasional trespassing or vandalism. Nothing serious, usually.”

  “Was Father Lound’s disappearance reported to the police?” Tommy asked.

  Peeters leaned back in his chair, making it creak slightly.

  “It was. By a priest,” Peeters tried to drag the man’s name from his memory with visible effort. “I am sorry, the details do not spring to mind, but there will be a case file. I do recall the inspectors were sent out to search for the man. There was a great concern as it was very out of character for the father to simply disappear. The fact his suitcase was gone suggested he had runaway for some reason. I believe it was loosely linked to the disappearance of another family in the town. The Devereauxs.”

  “Yes, that is what we heard,” Tommy concurred. “Father Lound knew the family, especially Ramon Devereaux who worked at Albion Hope from time to time.”

  Peeters’ eyes sparkled and he leaned forward to speak to them as if they were conspirators.

  “Now, Ramon Devereaux I knew. His was a name every inspector had heard of at some point.”

  That attracted Tommy and Brandt’s attention.

  “Why was that?” Tommy asked keenly.

  “The boy could not stay out of trouble, simply put,” Peeters’ shrugged his shoulders. “I understand that the family were in dire straits, but Ramon tried to handle the situation in a way that was unacceptable. He would break into houses and steal money, we caught him red-handed once or twice, but sympathy for the family’s situation made us generous. He was given a warning on both occasions and the house-breaking did stop, as far as we knew, at least.

  “His other problem was his temper. He had a bad one. He was often getting into fights with soldiers, usually because of his sister. She consorted with the soldiers and was prostituting herself. We turned a blind eye, again because of the family’s situation, though we had warned her once or twice. Ramon would accost any soldier he saw talking to his sister and this usually resulted in a fight.”

  Tommy was intrigued. Very little had been said about Ramon Devereaux before, Janssen had only referred to him vaguely, almost as if he was irrelevant. That had given the impression that he was quiet and unassuming, someone who got on with their life without causing much of a ripple. Now they were learning this was far from true.

  “What about the Devereauxs’ disappearance?” Tommy asked.

  “Happened at the same time the priest vanished,” Peeters recalled. “No one reported it at first, though we were all aware of the gossip. Then an old woman called and said her neighbours had gone in the night without warning. Seeing as the whole family had gone and they had taken their belongings, there seemed no reason to think there was anything particularly sinister about it. We did investigate, but there was no sign of a crime taking place. There was a rumour the eldest girl was pregnant and we unofficially suspected this was the cause of their departure. The mother was very self-conscious about the family’s fall from grace, so to speak. She probably could not bear the shame of the daughter bearing a child out of wedlock in a town where she was known.”

  “You never discovered where they had gone?” Tommy asked.

  “We never looked that hard,” Peeters admitted, though he did not seem abashed by this revelation. “We were shorthanded and with a lot else going on. There was no reason to pursue them as far as we could tell and, I confess, it was a relief to have Ramon out of our hair.”

  “What about the skeleton found in the woods about a year later?” Tommy pressed on. “Was that linked to the disappearances?”

  “Ah, yes, the bones!” Peeters became more enthusiastic. Murder was a rare thing in the town, and it was something more interesting than housebreaking and brawls. “I was a Candidate Chief Inspector by then. I remember the investigation well. The bones had not been disturbed by animals, which was fortunate, though we never found all the finger and toe bones. They are very small and easily lost in the ground.

  “The grave was unexpectedly deep for a hasty burial, usually these things are shallow due to the time it takes to dig them. That did make us speculate that more than one individual was involved in the crime. Heavy rain had revealed the corpse. The grave was on a slope and the rain had washed a large chunk of the top soil down. Enough, at least, to reveal the skull. This was at the shallowest point of the grave.
We worked out that the victim had been buried in a sitting position. It seems the grave was deep but not long, and the body had to be folded up, with the head nearest the top.

  “There was no real evidence of who the victim was, aside from a gold necklace, which later proved to be a crucifix, and a rosary. The body was also wearing the remains of shoes, but the acidity of the soil had eaten away any other clothes. If you want to know more I can put you in touch with the surgeon who examined the bones for us.”

  “That would be helpful,” Tommy nodded. “Did you link the body to Father Lound at all?”

  “It crossed our minds,” Peeters admitted. “A priest goes missing and then we find a skeleton with religious items. We couldn’t prove it was him, however. And, of course, there was the bullet hole in the back of the skull. That made us stop and think. Someone killed that man. If it was Lound, he was probably dead before we were even alerted to him being missing.”

  Colonel Brandt was growing restless and clearly wanted to speak.

  “There was no indication of the murderer?” He said.

  “None,” Peeters answered smartly. “Of course, things like footprints would have been washed away long before. There was no gun, or anything like that. Truly a mystery. We did what we could, but there was nothing to work with. If it was Father Lound, no one could suggest a reason someone would want to kill him.”

  “Did you think it was significant he was buried near the path to the shrine of St Helena?” Brandt asked.

  Peeters folded his hands on his desk.

  “Maybe. There was the obvious link between the religious trappings of the skeleton and St Helena’s shrine. That made it seem even more likely the body was of the priest. However, Lound supposedly took his suitcase with him and that has never been found,” Peeters seemed to consider this important. “The shrine was also a popular meeting point for secret rendezvous in the war. It was a good place to stake out if we were looking for someone dabbling in black market goods. If the statue in that shrine could speak, she would have all manner of tales to tell about people meeting there. I’m not sure if anyone actually ever went to pray at the shrine.”

  Peeters found this amusing and smirked.

  “Could we see the files?” Tommy asked.

  Peeters only now hesitated.

  “They are supposed to be sealed until the case is either solved or so much time has passed that they can cause no harm to anyone living who is mentioned in them. I cannot just show them to civilians.”

  “They may be the key to proving or disproving Father Lound was a traitor, surely that is reason enough to make an exception?” Brandt suggested, somehow managing to sound even more ‘military’ than before. “It is important to wrap up this case for the sake of the family. I could ask for some sort of official authorisation from the military, if you would like?”

  Peeters did not speak at once. It was plain he was torn. Brandt’s demeanour and obvious military links were making him think twice about denying them access to the files. But there was still police procedure to consider. He scratched at his head.

  “Father Lound may have sold secrets to the Germans in the war,” Brandt pushed him. “Or he may have been a victim of a misunderstanding, it is important we learn the truth. The war left us with many loose ends and it would be preferable if this was not to remain one of them.”

  “The British government desires this?” Peeters asked uneasily.

  “The British military desires this,” Colonel Brandt said, in the understanding that he was part of the British military, despite being retired, and thus his statement could not be considered a lie. “It is part of their post-war work. There are many stories like this, as you may appreciate.”

  Peeters came to a decision.

  “I’ll let you look at the files, but only here at the station. Also, I cannot let you make transcripts, understood?”

  “That is very reasonable,” Colonel Brandt assured him. “I truly hope we can bring peace to the family of Father Lound by learning what really happened to him, and what he was doing during the war.”

  Peeters did not seem convinced, but he was willing to give them the benefit of the doubt.

  “I’ll need to have the files pulled from our archive. Could I ask you to return this afternoon?”

  “That would be fine,” Tommy promised. “Thank you.”

  Peeters showed them out of the office and they found themselves on the street with a couple of hours to spare. Brandt pulled out his old pocket watch and assessed the time.

  “Maybe we could find something to eat?” He suggested.

  Tommy was agreeable to this. They walked along, looking for a café.

  “I think Father Lound was the man in that grave,” Tommy said suddenly. “I don’t think he disappeared of his own accord. I think someone murdered him.”

  “Who, and why?” Brandt asked.

  “I don’t entirely trust that Colonel Matthews,” Tommy said sinisterly. “In times of war, even officers do strange and awful things. He might have thought he could not prove the case of Lound being a traitor, or maybe he just thought it was quicker and simpler to be rid of him. If he really had committed treason, he was going to be executed anyway.”

  “Matthews was my subordinate and a man I respected,” Brandt said carefully, and with a slightly reproving look directed at Tommy. “I don’t believe him a cold-blooded murderer.”

  “You weren’t here during the war,” Tommy countered. “You don’t know the way things were. No one started out as a cold-blooded murderer, but this place changed them, changed us. The war made you think differently and act out-of-character. I think it is possible.”

  Tommy looked about the town, his face suddenly grim.

  “Just being here brings back thoughts I have not had in years. I start to feel the hate bubbling again. The hate for anything German, the hate for anyone who would not do their duty, the hate for someone who would betray us.” Tommy came to a halt, his mouth was dry, a sensation of deep and painful emotion creeping up his throat and threatening to choke him. “I would have done it. I would have killed a man I thought was a traitor.”

  “I don’t think you would have, Tommy,” Brandt said gently.

  “I would have,” Tommy contradicted him. “I would have done it. Given the chance. And I wouldn’t have regretted it, either.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  The home was at the top of a steep hill, which Clara felt was slightly ironic considering its clientele were all elderly or infirm. She noticed a nurse valiantly pushing an old man in a wheelchair up the hill and pointed her out to Annie.

  “Shall we help?”

  The two ladies went over and Clara asked in French if they could be of assistance. The nurse started to hesitate and then accepted. They pushed the chair together up the remainder of the slope.

  “Quite a hike!” Clara declared as they finally reached the top and the ground levelled off.

  “Oui, it gets no better,” the nurse laughed, patting the shoulder of the old man in the chair. “But monsieur must have his daily air.”

  The old man made a mumbled murmur, whether it was relevant to what the nurse had said was difficult to tell.

  “We have come to see if we might visit with one of your residents, Madame Smet,” Clara explained as they walked with the nurse to the door of the house.

  “You have never been before,” the nurse said, taking a good look at Clara. “You are English?”

  “Is it the accent?” Clara asked.

  “I spent time in England,” the nurse smiled. “Before the war, when I was just a girl.”

  “Well, you are right, we have never been here before. I am Clara Fitzgerald, I work in England as a private detective. I am looking into the case of an Englishman who went missing in Belgium during the war.”

  “A solider?” The nurse became crestfallen. She knew as well as anyone else that many young men went missing during the fighting, never to be found. Somewhere in the Belgium soil their bones l
ay, waiting to be discovered once more.

  “Not a soldier,” Clara said. “He was a priest in this town. Father Lound.”

  The nurse didn’t recognise the name.

  “I only came here after the war,” she said. “I am not local. Maybe I have heard the name in passing, but, no, it doesn’t ring a bell.”

  “Father Lound had a connection with the Devereaux family who lived in this town, they also left. Madame Smet used to be their neighbour and I hoped she would be able to tell me more about the family.”

  The nurse glanced towards the house. It was a large chateau with beautifully kept gardens. Probably it could house eight or ten residents in luxurious comfort. It was the sort of place that straddled the line between hospital and hotel. The patients had all their medical needs attended to, while surrounded by doting staff who served fine meals, made sure the rooms were tidy and that the residents had all they could desire to make them happy.

  “Madame Smet is not keen on visitors,” the nurse said at last. “I can ask her for you, of course.”

  “That would be most kind,” Clara agreed. “I realise she might not care to speak with us. But, please explain that I am trying to help Father Lound’s sister to discover what became of him.”

  The nurse nodded.

  “Just let me sort out…” she tipped her head to the old man in the wheelchair who was now making odd humming sounds to himself and sucking his lips in.

  They followed the nurse into the hall of the house and she disappeared with her charge. Annie glanced around the interior with an approving look.

  “Very clean,” she said. “It seems all right.”

  “What did you expect?” Clara asked.

  “I wasn’t sure,” Annie replied. “I guess I was remembering the old workhouse that used to be near Brighton. Do you remember that place?”

  “I never went there.”

  “When I was a girl, I sometimes went over with my father to help with the pigs the workhouse kept. I remember going inside and it was so bleak, and there were children my age in there. I shuddered looking at them. That place is closed now, but I saw all the old people who had nowhere else to go dumped there. They were cold and hungry, and miserable.”