The Traitor's Bones

by Evelyn James

  “People do strange things when emotions are involved,” Tommy said, though he was not entirely sure what he was aiming at by attempting to defend Father Lound. He just rather felt he ought to, considering they were there on behalf of Lound’s sister.

  “No, there is never a good excuse for protecting a criminal,” Mercier was adamant. “The traitor should have faced justice. I am sorry he didn’t.”

  Mercier had finished his cigarette and put out the stub in a nearby ashtray. He had become sullen and uneasy. Finally his eyes flicked up to the two men.

  “I think it is about time you explained what you are doing here, don’t you?”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Clara and Annie walked back into the hotel and were greeted by the ever friendly Janssen.

  “Ladies, you are in time for a late luncheon,” he beamed. “My, you do look dusty!”

  Clara glanced at her skirt for the first time and realised it was coated in an inch of grey dust, her shoes were even worse and she suspected the filth had penetrated her stockings and her lower legs would be covered with it. Annie was looking at her own clothes aghast.

  “I said not to go to Lugrule,” Janssen winked at them. “Did you meet with your friend?”

  “Sort of,” Clara answered vaguely.

  Janssen seemed to assume this was a normal English answer and did not question it further.

  “I’ll arrange a pot of tea for you both and some sandwiches. Find a seat in the front parlour.”

  Janssen headed off before Clara could tell him they were going to get changed first. She looked to Annie who shrugged.

  “This dust is not going to come off anytime soon,” Annie said with the weariness of someone who knows about cleaning clothes. “We might as well get something to eat first.”

  Feeling as if Annie had rather given her permission to eat in dusty clothes, Clara followed her friend through to the front parlour, which was thankfully deserted.

  “You know what I have been thinking?” Annie said as they both sat down by a window.

  “Would you like me to guess, or was that rhetorical?” Clara asked.

  Annie gave her a look.

  “I was thinking, probably what you were thinking, that Ramon was killed by someone who knew him and the location, the timing, and the fact he had Father Lound’s rosary in his hands, rather suggests that the good priest was involved.”

  “I had considered that. It is awful to contemplate that Father Lound was a murderer.”

  Annie’s eyes widened.

  “I wasn’t thinking that!” She said in astonishment.

  “Then, what?” Clara asked.

  “I was thinking that maybe Father Lound followed Ramon that night to stop him committing more treachery and they both got themselves killed. Probably by the Germans Ramon was helping. Ramon was a liability after the discovery and Father Lound was a witness to it all.”

  “But there was only one body in the woods. Ramon’s,” Clara pointed out.

  “There is only one body we know about,” Annie corrected her. “Just because one grave was found, doesn’t mean another can’t be hidden there.”

  Clara found herself suddenly pausing. Annie’s interpretation could be right. Except…

  “Father Lound went missing before Ramon,” she said. “And his suitcase was gone. He missed mass.”

  “This is how I see it,” Annie explained. “He was planning to get Ramon away from town, knowing that Colonel Matthews was looking for a traitor and that the penalty for treason is death. He had to be discreet to avoid alerting the military. He packed his suitcase and left Albion Hope early, to make it look like he had run away and put everyone off the scent.

  “Later that night he tracked Ramon into the woods, meaning to persuade the boy to leave town. He knew he would have to go too, or else be sentenced to death in Ramon’s place. He would not betray the boy, but Ramon might have a crisis of conscience and confess. Either way, they both had to go. Only, Father Lound did not realise Ramon was heading into the woods to meet with his contacts and explain that he could no longer bring them information.

  “He stumbled on the meeting. The Germans could not risk a witness. They captured him and decided it would be best if both Ramon and Lound disappeared without a trace. They shot Ramon first. Father Lound gave him the crucifix and rosary to hold to bring him comfort in his final moments. Then he was shot. There were two graves dug and the bodies placed in them. Only one was disturbed by heavy rain and discovered.”

  Clara looked out the window. Truth be told, it was as good a solution to the mystery as any she had postulated. It was certainly better, from Emily’s perspective, if her brother was a victim rather than a murderer.

  “There is lot of ground to cover in those woods,” Clara mused.

  “I would hazard a bet they dug each grave close to one another to save time and effort,” Annie replied.

  Clara smiled at her friend.

  “You seem to have suddenly developed a worrying insight into the burial practices of murderers,” she teased.

  Annie blushed.

  “But it is a very sound idea,” Clara quickly corrected herself. “One we must surely act upon. We ought to go straight to Chief Inspector Peeters and propose he conduct an exploratory search of the woods.”

  Clara was beginning to stand, as Janssen appeared in the parlour with a tray of sandwiches and a large pot of tea. The look of longing on Annie’s face, and the disappointment that followed when she saw Clara stand, was too much to bear. Clara resumed her seat.

  “After luncheon,” Clara said. “We’ll go after luncheon.”

  About an hour later they were heading towards the police station. Neither of them had so far met with Chief Inspector Peeters, but they had heard all about him from Tommy and Colonel Brandt. Clara was hopeful that he would not be difficult to persuade to help them.

  The fellow on the front desk hesitated when Clara explained who she was and her purpose. Little did Clara know of the fraught encounter Brandt and Tommy had had that morning with Peeters. But the man on the desk did know and he was uncertain about setting more of these strange English people on his superior. In the end, however, it was plain Clara was not going to leave without seeing him and the man gave in.

  Clara reflected that this was remarkably similar to her usual experiences with the Brighton police and almost smirked to herself. Perhaps it was her.

  Peeters blustered down the stairs after his subordinate when he heard there were more nosy foreigners in his station. He took a good look at Clara as he appeared. Clara didn’t feel it was a friendly look and was beginning to think Tommy had sugar-coated his description of Peeters.

  “Chief Inspector,” she greeted him warmly, nonetheless, “I apologise for the disturbance. You have been speaking with my friends, I believe?”

  “I have,” Peeters did not return the warmth. “Are you the woman who spoke to my sister and upset her? Can’t you leave all that in the past?”

  “Murder is not something easily forgotten,” Clara replied firmly. “Your sister may have learned to live with the trauma, but she had certainly not consigned it to the past. Nor will she ever have the chance to attempt to heal when there are so many unanswered questions. Namely, where is Father Lound? You must know, Chief Inspector, that when a person is missing it eats away at those who care for them. Only discovering what became of them, knowing if they are dead or alive, can bring them the peace they need and deserve. While your sister has a small glimmer of hope Father Lound is still alive, she will never be able to truly move on.”

  Peeters narrowed his eyes.

  “She was doing very well, until you showed up.”

  “Do you really believe that?” Clara asked him. “For I saw a woman whose heart still ached for a man most likely long dead. Do not kid yourself that as she no longer speaks about things she has actually forgotten them. I think your sister is in a very bad place, and without assistance she may get worse.”

  “Who ar
e you to judge my sister?” Peeters snapped.

  “I am judging no one, just offering my observations. I also wish to offer my help. There is another woman who cannot rest and who is struggling to live her life because of what happened here in 1917. Emily Priggins asked me to find out what happened to her brother. She had to defy her father to do so, no easy matter if you knew who her father was,” Clara hoped she was appealing to Peeters’ sense of moral duty and to his empathy. “She has gone out on a limb, and I owe her a duty to do the same. I am not questioning your policing skills. I am fully aware that trying to trace a missing man in the middle of a war is a thankless task. It’s difficult enough in peacetime.”

  Peeters seemed slightly mollified. He had not lost his frown, however.

  “I have done all I can. Allowed your friends to look at the case files and answered all their questions. I even agreed to make enquiries concerning the rosary and crucifix,” Peeters paused and looked slightly embarrassed. “I asked my sister. She is certain the items belonged to Father Lound.”

  “I feared as much,” Clara nodded. “If we could bother you for a little longer, my friend Annie has come up with an idea concerning the events of that night when Lound disappeared and I would like you to hear her out. We may be able to resolve this mystery at last.”

  Peeters glanced at Annie, who was looking uneasy. She did not understand what Clara and Peeters were saying, as it was all in French, but she recognised her name and she blushed even deeper when Clara nodded to her and she realised they were discussing her theory. Peeters’ stern look made her want to run away. Annie did not like dealing with the police, she was only just getting used to Inspector Park-Coombs back in Brighton.

  “I do have other work,” Peeters grumbled to Clara, but he sounded less fierce than before.

  “I shall not disturb you for long,” Clara promised. “I need not mention that there is also a military matter to consider with this case. And if Annie’s theory is right, we shall solve both in one move.”

  That, at least, appealed to Peeters.

  “Let’s go to my office,” he agreed.

  Once upstairs, Clara explained Annie’s theory. Annie sat mute during the proceedings, looking mildly worried by everything. Peeters listened patiently and his frown lifted as the theory took root in his mind. It was all very plausible. When Clara had finished, she waited for his response.

  “It does seem very likely that Ramon is our skeleton, now you know he never left the town,” Peeters said. “And the way he died is very much the way a military agent would execute someone. During the war I was sent to other areas of Belgium when mass graves were uncovered and a large police presence was needed. These graves were the work of German troops who had executed random Belgium citizens as they marched through the country. Many of these victims were shot through the back of the head.

  “Ramon would not surprise me as a traitor either. He was always looking to make easy money and was not against breaking the law to do so. I despaired for his future. Somehow, I always thought he would end up dying in some miserable fashion.

  “And that brings us back to Father Lound. He did seem to be fond of helping the Devereauxs. He had sympathy for them when no one else did. My sister said it would do him no good. Looks like she was right.”

  “It is just a theory without proof,” Clara pointed out. “I wouldn’t want our idea to be taken as the likeliest solution and prevent other options being explored. I know finding the culprits for this crime is probably never going to happen. If they were not captured and killed during the war, these agents must have made their way back to Germany. We shall never be able to bring them to justice, but we may at least be able to give Ramon and Father Lound proper burials and offer some peace to their friends and family.”

  “I don’t think there is such a thing as peace for the Devereauxs,” Peeters said grimly. “Especially in Lugrule. Why have they gone to such a pit?”

  “I think they are hiding,” Clara answered. “Madame Devereaux knew her son was engaged in criminal activities, maybe she even knew about his treachery. When the British military started to investigate she could have panicked, especially when Ramon vanished. Fearing the consequences for herself and her family, she fled to somewhere she thought no one would come looking.”

  “Lugrule is certainly a place people go to disappear,” Peeters agreed. “It is also the place for the destitute and despondent. Without Ramon, Madame Devereaux would have had little source of income. Lugrule is at least a cheap place to live.”

  “Now I have outlined our theory, would you be willing to have the woods searched for Father Lound’s body?”

  Peeters had become side-tracked with thoughts of the Devereauxs’ unhappy existence. He suddenly realised he was being asked a question, and one that would require men and resources. His frown returned.

  “That is a big operation. I couldn’t just recall all my men and march them to the woods. We would need shovels and things.”

  “What if we asked the townsfolk for help?” Clara suggested. “They would surely turn out to assist?”

  Peeters looked wary of the idea, though it would be less of a drain on his own resources and he wouldn’t have to pay the townsfolk. He glanced out of the window, looking at the afternoon sun and Clara could almost see him calculating in his head how many hours of daylight they had left to accomplish their task.

  “You are not going to leave me alone until I resolve this, are you?” Peeters said.

  “You are quite right,” Clara smiled at him.

  Peeters sighed.

  “I shall have a message sent out to ask the townsfolk to help us search the woods. Give us about an hour to gather volunteers and then we can set out. I’ll call on Dr Jacobs too, he will need to be there if we find any remains,” Peeters became silent for a moment. “You are right, about my sister. She is still suffering. If we find Lound’s remains, do you think it will give her peace?”

  “Not at once,” Clara explained honestly. “But it will stop the questions rolling in her mind. It will bring an end to that period of her life. It will help. I can’t guarantee she will suddenly be back to the person she was before, that is very much up to her.”

  Peeters gave a wry smile.

  “I rather thought you would say that.”

  “You can’t cure everything,” Clara sighed. “If only we could, but we can make things bearable. It will be better than her imagining Father Lound ran off and abandoned her.”

  “Will it?” Peeters chuckled humourlessly. “I am not so sure about that.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  “What a complicated business,” Captain Mercier said after Tommy had finished the lengthy explanation for their being in Belgium. “I knew Father Lound reasonably well. All the military men did. After he vanished and we all assumed that indicated his guilt, we endeavoured to forget about him. It never crossed my mind that there must be people out there who cared about him and wondered what had happened. His sister can’t accept he was a traitor?”

  “She, and others who knew him well, believe it would have been entirely out of character.”

  Mercier snorted.

  “I heard things like that all the time during the war. When men deserted or committed suicide, or did something more mundane like cheated others out of their money. There was always someone who said that was not like them at all, that they would not possibly have done things like that,” Mercier shrugged. “I came to the conclusion that war makes men do things that they never otherwise would have done. How many of the soldiers out there would ever have shot a man in ordinary life? Yet in the trenches it was a regular occurrence. I know I would never have considered myself a murderer before the war, but I soon became one when my life was in the balance.”

  “That’s a difficult ethical question,” Tommy said uneasily. “Shooting the enemy is not the same as murdering someone.”

  “Isn’t it?” Mercier asked him sharply. “The law says if you kill a person by a deliberate act
of violence, and with the intention of doing so, it is murder. All of those things apply to what we were doing in the trenches. Was it because we had been ordered to do it, or because our comrades were doing the same that it made things easier? Was it because we were protecting our families and our countries that justified it to us? I don’t know. But I do know that, dress it up as you like, we all became murderers when we stepped on that battlefield.”

  Tommy didn’t like such talk. He had struggled with a lot of demons after the war, but he had not fought with himself over whether what he had done was self-defence or murder. He had never considered that he had been wrong in shooting the enemy. They would have shot him. The commanding officers and the propaganda they were regularly fed reminded them that the Germans were monsters, quick to kill and maim and rape. They were animals rather than men. You ate that sort of stuff up at the time, as it meant you could sleep at night – well, almost. Tommy had made a conscious effort not to think about those things ever since. He wasn’t entirely happy about Mercier bringing the subject up now. After all, what else could he have done?

  “That is by-the-by,” Colonel Brandt interrupted. “I agree that a loved one saying a person could not possibly have committed a crime is no evidence they did not, however, we do have to always listen to those peoples’ concerns, especially when the proof that a person did commit a crime is just as vague.”

  “Finding stolen papers in a man’s office and then him running away is hardly vague,” Mercier snapped. He was beginning to dislike the way the Englishmen were trying to defend Father Lound.

  “My point is, something very odd happened in the town that day, something that has left a lot of questions in its wake. We only want to answer those questions.”

  Mercier reluctantly accepted this explanation. Then he relaxed a fraction.

  “If I can do anything more to help, I shall. I am not a heartless man, I appreciate Lound’s sister is struggling to understand all this mess and has further questions.”