Death in Damascus: A 1920s Murder Mystery with Heathcliff Lennox

by Karen Baugh Menuhin

  ‘And was Fontaine in the room with you?’

  ‘Yes, he watched me at work. I even cleaned out the makeup jars to see if anything had been pushed into them, but there hadn’t.’

  ‘Did you find out anything about the bracelet?’ I realised that I’d forgotten to ask Dreadnaught the same question.

  ‘Yes, he said it had been returned to its rightful owner.’

  ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘I have no idea. He refused to tell me anything more.’

  Hamid arrived with a bow. ‘May we offer another refreshing serving, effendis?’

  ‘No, thank you. Just coffee,’ Swift ordered before I could even open my mouth. ‘Two, please.’

  ‘Swift!’ I protested, then gave it up.

  A waiter returned on the instant with a tray. The coffee was accompanied by sweet confections of honey and chocolate formed into little balls and encased in crushed nuts.

  ‘Fontaine must be searching for the medallion Persi gave me,’ I said.

  ‘Obviously!’

  I leaned forward. ‘It’s a treasure map.’

  ‘Nonsense.’

  ‘Humph.’ I straightened up. ‘What do you think it is then?’

  It was his turn to sigh. ‘I don’t know. It’s just one damn mystery after another.’

  Chapter 12

  ‘Did you see Persi while you were up on Ladies Row?’ I asked.

  ‘No, Fontaine says she’s not allowed to leave her room and the Arab guard won’t let any man pass without the Colonel being present.’

  ‘Could one of the other women give her a message?’

  ‘Possibly.’ Swift paused then added, ‘But I don’t trust them.’

  ‘Hum.’ I sipped my coffee. ‘Which room is she in?’

  ‘Fontaine wouldn’t tell me that either. Josephine Belvoir’s suite is the third door along and it’s kept locked. Fontaine has the only key.’

  ‘Talking of lock and key, did you discuss Langton?’

  ‘Yes, the Citadel is guarded by the local militia and if we go near the place we’ll excite all sorts of trouble. He said Langton is being held as a foreigner and has certain protections. He implied that his condition may have been exaggerated.’

  ‘What?’ That made me sit up. ‘You mean we’ve come all this way to save the man and now he was supposed to be perfectly safe?’

  ‘My reaction was the same as yours, I was furious. Once I’d calmed down he explained that Persi had probably heard the terrible reputation the Citadel has and she assumed the worse.’

  ‘Huh!’ I didn’t believe a damn word. ‘Or he’s trying to drive a wedge between us and Persi by implying she’s hysterical or lying.’

  Swift nodded agreement. ‘Possibly, but he sounded sincere.’ He sighed. ‘Look, his job here is to keep the peace. I think Langton’s situation may have actually been over-stated, but he’s right about this city – it is a powder keg and we all need to tread carefully.’ He turned the subject. ‘Anyway, where have you been?’

  ‘The souk.’

  That didn’t impress him. ‘Lennox, we need to concentrate on the murder.’

  ‘I am! I questioned Dreadnaught while I was there,’ I retaliated without actually admitting the circumstances. I told him the tale of Beatrice Langton’s fate and Josephine’s treachery. It brought a crease to his brows.

  ‘Why would Josephine have betrayed her?’ He asked.

  ‘He didn’t know, but if it’s true, it gives Langton an overwhelming motive to murder Josephine Belvoir,’ I replied.

  ‘If Langton knew what Mammie had said.’

  ‘Agreed, and Bing said he was certain Josephine hadn’t betrayed Beatrice.’

  ‘We can’t take his word for anything, he’s barely sober and his emotions waver one moment to the next.’ Swift stated.

  ‘But, if someone did feed the story to Langton, could they have done it in order to use him?’ I mooted.

  ‘As a pawn in their game? I suppose it’s possible, but we only have Dreadnaught’s word for it.’ He ate one of the honey and chocolate balls as he thought about it. ‘We need to question Mammie as soon as they return from filming.’

  I nodded. ‘Dreadnaught was pretty cut up, you know.’

  ‘Enough to murder Josephine?’ he asked.

  That gave me pause. ‘No, I don’t think so. He only met Beatrice once.’

  ‘Hum.’ He seemed lost in thought.

  ‘He’s not a bad chap, Swift.’

  He snapped out of his reverie. ‘It’s not a question of good or bad, it’s about uncovering their actions. You can’t judge their guilt based on how much you like or dislike them. You have to learn to remain detached,’ he lectured.

  Typical Swift, he was like a damn terrier at a rat when detecting and treated me as if I was some sort of minion. I was half a mind to go to my rooms, but the waiter brought another pot of coffee and more confections, so I stayed.

  Swift eyed me while I was licking my fingers. ‘Lennox.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You haven’t… ummm.’ He cleared his throat. ‘You haven’t taken advantage of any of the services offered by the Bathing ladies, have you?’

  ‘What?’ That made me sit up. ‘Why on earth would you ask that?’

  ‘Well… well, I wondered if you could bribe one.’ Colour rose in his lean cheeks.

  ‘To do what?’

  ‘Find the whereabouts of Persi, of course and pass on messages. What else would you do with them?’

  ‘I…’ One or two ideas flashed into my mind, but I shook them off. ‘Why me? You could do it just as easily.’

  ‘I’m married Lennox. What would Florence think if she heard about it?’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous, who on earth is going to tell her?’ I demanded.

  ‘I don’t know. Anyway, you could ask Jamal to arrange something,’ he insisted. ‘It may be our only chance.’

  ‘For heaven’s sake, Swift, there must be something better we can come up with.’

  ‘Short of dressing up as a woman, no there isn’t. Don’t be so damned prissy, man. You’re only offering a bribe, it’s not as if you’re going to make use of them.’

  ‘How do you know?’ I retorted. ‘I can take up the services of a Bathing lady if I want to!’

  That raised his brows.

  I heard a giggle behind me and we swung around in our seats.

  Genevieve and her Aunt walked in. We scrambled to stand up in greeting.

  ‘I didn’t, not that I meant… I wasn’t…’ I spluttered.

  ‘Really, Major Lennox, you do not need to offer an explanation. No doubt you consider yourself a man of the world,’ Lady Maitland remarked haughtily, and sailed off to a table as far away as possible. Genevieve followed, throwing me a sparkling smile as she went.

  ‘I… I… Damn it, Swift,’ I cursed.

  Swift had the grace to laugh. ‘We’d better go.’ He set off.

  ‘Where?’ I had to put on a quick pace to catch up with him.

  ‘We’ll have a look at your medallion against my map,’ he told me as we trotted upstairs.

  His rooms were orderly and he seemed to know where everything was. He pulled the map from a dresser drawer and unfolded it carefully on his desktop.

  I took out the freshly polished medallion and placed it on the out-spread sheet next to Damascus in the creamy-yellow coloured country of Syria. The diamonds around the medallion’s rim glinted in the sunlight streaming through the window.

  ‘What have you done to it?’

  ‘Cleaned it!’ I remarked, thinking he really did ask the most ridiculous questions.

  He shook his head then pointed on the map to the Lebanon and then the medallion. ‘Here, look, the etched black line represents the edge of the Mediterranean. See how the coastline is shaped lik
e an inverted ‘J’. And these small, red spots look like ports.’ He returned his finger to run along the paper. ‘Tyre, Byblos, Sidon, they’re ancient cities. Perhaps the gems were the items they traded. The star shaped mark by the punched hole is probably the North Star, that’s what most seafarers used for navigation.’

  ‘Oh.’ I felt rather deflated.

  ‘It’s probably a symbolic token worn by ships’ Captains or some such.’ Swift pulled his magnifying glass from his jacket pocket. ‘If it belonged to Hanno the Navigator, it may have been his ports of call.’

  ‘Or where he kept his harems of dancing girls,’ I remarked glumly. ‘What about the dead camel – it could be Hanno’s house? Or Damascus?’

  ‘Ummm… it’s the right place for Damascus, but the images on the medallion are far too stylised to be a proper map of any sort.’ He handed me the magnifying glass.

  I took a closer look, but was losing heart. ‘We need to ask Persi.’

  ‘Ummm,’ he agreed, his concentration on the medallion.

  ‘We could take a look at the walkway below hers,’ I suggested, having given it some thought. ‘We might be able to climb up the vine or the supporting pillars, somewhere the guard can’t see us.’

  ‘It would have to be after dark,’ Swift looked dubious.

  ‘Yes, but we could reconnoiter now, then we’ll know what we’re facing,’ I said with growing enthusiasm. ‘And surely the guard goes home at some time?’

  ‘I asked Hamid about him. He’s got a brother, they take it in turns. Apparently they’re newly appointed by Colonel Fontaine, they sacked the old one after Langton’s failed attempt to shoot Josephine.’

  ‘The bath-draw boy?’

  ‘Yes,’ he replied briskly. ‘He was demoted, and now you’ve shot him. I suppose we may as well take a look at the walkway, there’s no-one around to interview. Just a minute.’ He turned and walked to a wardrobe, pulled out his trench coat, shrugged himself into it, tightened his belt and said, ‘Come on.’

  I grinned, tucked the medallion back in my jacket, shoved my hands in my pockets and followed.

  We were on the second floor below Ladies Row. Both of us leaned out, backs against the bannister rail to peer up at the floor above. We had advanced as far as we could along the walkway where it ended in what looked like a servants’ door. I’d tried it, it was locked.

  Creepers and vines clung to the balustrades and pillars which supported each walkway. I tugged on a trunk over two inches thick, causing leaves to fall and flutter away.

  ‘Feels pretty firm,’ I said and climbed up onto the bannister rail to balance on top, trying to find a hand hold among the creepers. It worked, so I climbed higher.

  ‘Wait,’ Swift hissed. ‘We can’t go up until nightfall.’

  ‘I know,’ I hissed back. ‘I’m testing it.’ I went up another couple of arm lengths and realised I could reach the tiles of the walkway above with my outstretched hand. I pulled myself up a little further, causing more leaves to rustle and fall away. A head and shoulders appeared over the walkway rail.

  ‘Oh, how daring! What are you doing, Major Lennox?’ Genevieve smiled down at me.

  ‘I… um.’ I gazed up at her. ‘I’m looking for Miss Carruthers room, actually. Couldn’t help, by any chance?’

  ‘Haha, you are keen, aren’t you!’ she laughed. ‘It’s the fourth from the end, but don’t let either of the brothers Grimm catch you. They’re a fearsome pair!’

  ‘The guards?’

  ‘Yes,’ she giggled. ‘Our unlikely guardians. Do be careful, he’s watching as I speak.’

  Genevieve disappeared and another figure appeared in her place.

  ‘Ah, Major Lennox.’ Lady Maitland gazed down at me. ‘And what, may I ask, are you doing now?’

  ‘Ermm… I am attempting to reach Miss Carruthers, for… erm, well, I need to talk to her…’

  ‘How very fervent of you, Major Lennox. I really must commend your ardour,’ she drawled, then promptly withdrew.

  ‘Raarghhhhh,’ a terrible yell bellowed out, followed by the thudding of pounding boots.

  I half fell, half clambered down and pushed Swift back against the wall.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Shush.’

  There was loud grunting and slashing of foliage to be heard, then the stamping of feet and sabre rattling.

  ‘Lennox, you idiot,’ Swift hissed.

  We waited while the boots tramped around and eventually went off.

  ‘Not sure that’s going to work,’ I said, brushing myself down. ‘I think he’s gone, now.’ I stepped back into the light.

  ‘Why must you be so damn…?’

  ‘Oh, give it up, Swift!’

  ‘Who were you talking to?’

  ‘Genevieve. She told me Persi’s rooms are fourth from the end.’

  ‘Humm.’ He calmed down and looked along the passage. ‘Isn’t this the floor the Vincents are housed on?’

  ‘Yes, along with their equipment room.’

  ‘We could have a look around,’ he suggested.

  I stared at him. ‘Seriously, Swift? You are actually proposing that we sneak around their rooms without permission?’

  ‘Sometimes it’s necessary to break umm… bend the rules,’ he muttered.

  ‘Fine.’ I stepped over to the nearest door and tried it. It was locked, but I had with me my favourite detecting device, a set of lock picks I’d confiscated from a petty thief at Bloxford Hall. I’d spent quite some time in the interim mastering the art of their application; the lock turned as I fiddled about on my second attempt. I could see Swift was impressed.

  Beyond the door was a sumptuous set of suites, it made even my rooms look insignificant. Huge mirrors were set in gilded frames above spindly legged sofas, upholstered in yellow satin. The bedroom was stately, with green silk hangings falling from a centre point to frame the huge bed. More chairs and sofas of similar hue were arranged in a group before the window. We picked through cupboards and drawers, finding all the usual outfits and geegaws everybody takes along whilst travelling. There were two handheld still cameras and rolls of film and whatnots of that sort as well.

  I found a stack of photographs in a briefcase stamped with Vincent’s initials. The top set were of Josephine, she was posing in various diaphanous frocks and in one picture she was wearing a rather fetching bathing suit. She had signed them all in a scrawled hand. Dreadnaught and Bing made up a tidy handful and there were half a dozen of a lady I didn’t recognise. She’d been photographed in poses similar to Belvoir’s, her name was written neatly at the base; ‘Maria Finch’. I assumed her to be the actress sent home after succumbing to some illness or other.

  There were some older photos underneath, slightly dog-eared with their gloss worn off. They were of a pretty girl – large, expressive eyes gazing into the camera, a half-smile playing on her lips, hair gathered up in a loose bun with long curls falling around a gentle face. There was no artifice about these, they were simple, natural images taken with what I’d have guessed was a loving eye. Beatrice Langton’s name was written across the bottom-right corner. I passed them to Swift. He gazed at them, a shadow crossing his sharp features, then I put them back and snapped the briefcase closed. We exited feeling rather flat.

  ‘We should search their storeroom too,’ Swift told me. ‘We may as well be thorough.’

  I can’t say I was keen and, upon entry, we took one glance around the place and abandoned the plan. It would take a small army to rifle through the trunks, boxes, and bags set haphazardly around that spacious room which was awash with rails of costumes, feather boas, hats and props of unlikely sorts.

  Swift picked up a coil of rope and stared at it. He tugged on one section, as though testing its strength, then looked at me.

  ‘Lennox,’ he said. ‘I have an idea…’

  It was a ridi
culous idea. We argued about it all the way up the stairs, giving the guard a wide berth, and crossed the roof garden from the walkway to the outer wall.

  ‘Swift we should wait until dark.’ I said.

  ‘Then we won’t be able to see anything,’ he replied. ‘And it’s dangerous enough as it is.’

  ‘Exactly. I really, really think you shouldn’t do this,’ I repeated firmly. We were standing next to the ledge which ran around the perimeter of the roof garden, scrutinising the drop to the nearest windows against the length of rope. The street below was teeming.

  ‘It’s quite simple.’ Swift sounded determined but unconvincing. ‘We’ll tie the rope to this seat, you sit on it to make sure it doesn’t move, and I’ll climb down and knock on Miss Persi’s window.’

  ‘It’s suicide, Swift. If you fall, it’s a forty foot drop to the pavement.’

  ‘Nonsense, I can do it,’ he had knotted the rope to a wrought-iron couch and was even now wrapping the other end around his waist. He leaned over the wall then suddenly stepped back. He swayed and fell onto the seat, white as a sheet.

  I peered at him. ‘No head for heights?’ I remarked.

  He spluttered a bit then said. ‘Not really, not that sort of drop anyway.’

  I sighed. I hated heights too, which was always a bit of an impediment for a pilot. ‘I’ll do it.’

  ‘No, it’s my responsibility.’

  ‘You’re about to be a father, Swift. Breaking your neck isn’t going to help your wife or child. Just give me the damn rope.’

  It took further persuading but he finally handed it over. I tied a series of knots along its length before looping it around my waist. I’d been forced to do some mountain climbing by my school and knew roughly how it worked. I gazed down the wall to the ground again, felt dizzy, perched on the ledge and took a deep breath.

  Chapter 13

  ‘Swift?’ My eyes were fixed on the crowded street below.

  ‘What?’ he replied from the iron-framed couch.

  ‘I forgot to ask which end.’