by Bill Kitson
Ten minutes or so after our arrival we saw Michael and Chloe, who, along with the curator, the caretaker and the removals man were carrying a large rectangular object out of the museum and loading it onto the van. Although it was draped with a blanket, the dimensions and the number of people needed to carry it suggested that it was the right size and weight. If someone had been trying to get hold of that container, they would hopefully assume that it was now about to leave the museum for its new resting place.
With the ‘object’ placed in the van and the tailgate secured, Michael stood talking to the curator and his assistant for a moment before shaking hands with them. It was obvious that he was thanking them for their help with the loading.
As Michael climbed into the van, we switched our attention to nearby vehicles. My suspicion that one of them was occupied was confirmed immediately. When I’d looked before, the sun had made it impossible to be certain, but now, with a passing cloud obscuring it, the interior of the car was clearly visible. I passed the binoculars to Eve, pointing out the vehicle in question. She had a quick look before handing them to Jäger. ‘I think that’s the man we’ve assumed to be Lumsden,’ I commented.
Jäger agreed, and any remaining doubt vanished when the car edged out into the line of traffic some distance behind the van on its short journey to St Mary’s Church, where Michael had arranged for assistance to offload the cargo.
I waited until both vehicles were well out of sight before I drove into the museum grounds. In line with the curator’s instructions I ignored the car park and drove round to the rear of the building, where a roller-shutter door opened as we approached. I reversed up to the door. There was just enough space for the container to be propped up in the boot, and having thanked Evans and the caretaker we set off in the opposite direction to that travelled by our decoy.
Rather than driving directly to Laithbrigg I opted to take a more scenic route along a series of narrow winding country lanes. ‘Why are we going the long way round?’ Eve asked.
‘I want to make certain we don’t have unwelcome company. There were a couple of cars that I had doubts about earlier, but they both turned off.’
By the time we reached the outskirts of the village I was certain we hadn’t been followed but, to make doubly sure, when we reached Eden House I reversed the Range Rover into the garage. Once Eve had shut the doors, with some effort the three of us lifted the contents from the car boot so we could inspect them.
After only a few seconds Jäger spoke, his voice cracking with emotion.
‘He remembers this extremely well,’ Eve told me. ‘He used to sit in his father’s workshop watching him make this.’
‘His father was obviously a master craftsman, because this is a superb piece of work. I think we ought to wait until Michael and Chloe return before we examine it further, though.’
Curbing our impatience to search for the secrets within the container was a testing experience. However, in order to allay suspicion as to the true whereabouts of the box we had arranged for Michael and Chloe to wait until the following day before returning to Eden House. This was intended as part of the subterfuge to throw others off the scent. Although I didn’t believe that Lumsden was responsible for the murders it was clear that mine was a minority opinion. Both Eve and Jäger were convinced that the Stasi agent had killed Bennett and Harfleur.
‘It is part of the indoctrination process the Communists subject their agents to,’ Jäger told us. ‘They intend all their operatives to place no value whatsoever on human life. He would have been trained to wipe out anyone who was in his way or who threatened him without any more feeling than if he was swatting a fly.’
‘That may be so, but I don’t believe their brainwashing techniques would blind their agents to common sense. Lumsden would have nothing to gain and everything to lose by committing those murders. Furthermore, how would he know that Bennett and Harfleur were involved in Kershaw’s scheme to hide whatever is in that container?’
‘If he didn’t know about it, how come he was watching as Michael and the others loaded that pallet onto the van, and why follow them unless he thought they had something of value in it?’
‘That doesn’t prove anything. He might have been drawn to the museum simply because Harfleur’s body was found there.’
‘That doesn’t make sense, Adam. If he didn’t know that Harfleur and Bennett were involved there would be nothing to lead Lumsden to believe the museum held anything of value or interest to him.’
Eve had a point, but I was still reluctant to yield to my original theory and I was determined to prove that I was correct. Unfortunately, Eve’s description of my attitude was far less than flattering. Eve can be a fierce critic at times.
What neither of us had considered was the third possibility, that Lumsden might have been aware of what was inside the museum, but hadn’t committed the murders.
Unfortunately, next morning I had to phone Michael and Chloe and ask them to defer their visit. The reason was the shock news brought by Johnny Pickersgill, who arrived at our house shortly before ten o’clock.
I let him in but knew immediately that something was seriously wrong, not only by his expression but by his refusal of my offer of tea. ‘I’ve been sent to fetch you and Eve,’ he told us. ‘DI Hardy wants you to come to Elmfield immediately.’
My first thought was that something untoward had happened either at the vicarage or at Chloe’s house. The news Johnny gave us was even more shocking. ‘Tom Fox’s cleaning lady went to his cottage this morning. She found his body in the lounge.’
‘Oh dear!’ Eve responded immediately. ‘I assume from the fact that Hardy asked us to go there that it wasn’t a heart attack that killed him?’
‘No,’ Johnny replied. ‘Sorry, I put it badly, but we’re all upset. Uncle Tom isn’t dead – not quite. He would have been if he hadn’t been a smoker. Someone attempted to kill him, but instead of being stabbed through the heart, the blow was deflected by the cigarette case he was carrying in his shirt pocket. The blade nicked a blood vessel and he’s critically ill, but the doctors are hopeful that he’ll pull through. By the look of it, the attacker is the same person who murdered Bennett and Harfleur.’
The news was horrifying. We both liked Fox, whose cheerful demeanour masked a dedicated public servant, both in his role as a police officer and latterly as a councillor. We travelled to Elmfield in silence, reflecting on this latest near-tragedy. We had little doubt that this crime was connected to the mystery surrounding Andrew Kershaw and his family, but could not work out what that link was. Two basically decent local inhabitants had been ruthlessly murdered and, but for luck, Tom would also have perished, for which there could be no valid motive.
Hardy was waiting outside the house. ‘We can’t go inside yet until our forensic people have finished. Tom’s already been taken to the hospital.’
‘Any news of his condition?’ I asked.
‘Touch and go, so I was told, and it might be a long time before he’s able to describe what happened here, even if he pulls through.’
‘Where was he found?’
‘He was sitting in his armchair, as if he was waiting for his favourite TV show to start. The cleaner thought he was asleep until she saw the blood. His shirt and trousers were soaked in it and there was a trail all the way from the front door to the lounge. I think he was stabbed by the door and dragged himself to try and summon help, but passed out before he could reach the phone.’
‘Didn’t the cleaner see the blood in the hallway?’ Eve asked.
‘No, she let herself in by the back door so she didn’t notice it until she walked into the sitting room.’
‘What makes you think he tried to summon help?’
‘The side table alongside his armchair was overturned. The phone was on the floor as if he’d knocked it over while reaching for it. You can see the blood smear on the side.’
‘This wasn’t quite like the other murders then, if Tom survived that long
. Those deaths were instantaneous.’
‘Tom’s would have been too if it hadn’t have been for that cigarette case.’
We had to wait a further hour before being allowed into the cottage. Once inside, Hardy led us to the lounge. It was a comfortable room; that of a man at ease with himself and the world. If ever a room reflected the character of its owner, I thought, this one does. The centrepiece of the far wall was a brick built fireplace surrounded on either side by shelved recesses that were crammed with books.
Close to the armchair where Tom had been found, the side table had been replaced, presumably the act of the forensic officers. In addition to the phone there was a small reading lamp and a book entitled Observations of Wildlife marked with a bloody fingerprint. I found this mildly surprising as I hadn’t been aware that Tom was at all interested in the subject. I dismissed this thought as irrelevant and tried to concentrate on the rest of the scene.
‘It’s a bit early to form theories,’ Eve suggested.
‘I realise that,’ Hardy responded, ‘and normally I’d agree but for the comments you made when Johnny and I came to your house. You told us that Tom Fox had made some sort of cryptic remark that intrigued you, and that it might be connected with Andrew Kershaw, the chap who died years ago.’
‘That’s all we know,’ I spoke quickly to prevent Eve blurting anything out regarding our house guest or the contents of our garage. ‘We were talking about Andrew Kershaw who was a boyhood friend of Tom’s and he told us that Kershaw worked in intelligence and that there was someone else in this area with a similar background. That’s as far as it goes.’
‘You didn’t ask him to explain that statement or expand on it?’
‘I’m not certain whether he would have been able to, given the Official Secrets Act, but in any case the situation didn’t arise. We did try to contact him, more than once, but without success.’
‘That’s probably because he was away.’ The interruption came from Johnny. ‘My missus was talking to him on the railway platform the same day that we came to see you. She was on her way to Leeds shopping and he told her he was going to London for a few days on business.’
I was struck by a sudden, strange thought. Was it coincidence that Tom had chosen that point in time to go to London at the very same moment that David and Valerie Kershaw were in the capital?
Before leaving home, I had phoned the vicarage both to update Michael on the terrible event and to postpone their visit to Laithbrigg. While I was on the phone Eve had gone into the lounge to explain the reason for our departure to Jäger. She related the gist of their conversation to me as we drove back home. ‘Herr Jäger was asking about you. He seemed very impressed by your grasp of things. I told him all about your career as a correspondent and that you only gave it up because your first wife had died. Then he said a really curious thing that I didn’t understand.’
‘What was that?’
‘He said, “So Adam has been married before, has he?” and when I told him yes, he said, “I do hope her name wasn’t Lilith”. What do you think that means?’
‘It means that Jäger has a deep knowledge of the Talmud and Jewish folklore.’
‘Now it’s your turn to baffle me. Explain, please.’
‘According to the Talmud, Lilith was Adam’s first wife until she was dispossessed by Eve, and according to Jewish folklore she is a female demon who preys on babies and very young children. There is also some mystic legend in Judaism that suggests the name Lilith is the symbol of sexual lust.’
‘Where on earth did you learn all that?’
‘We had a lesson at school examining the origin of names, both given and family ones. Naturally the teacher was keen to concentrate on mine given the biblical connection, and went into great detail about it.’
‘Sometimes I think you have a mind like a sponge.’
We had been absent for about three hours, possibly slightly less, but by the time we returned Jäger was in a highly agitated state of mind. We managed to calm him down, principally by Eve explaining that we were regularly consulted by the local police force. Whether he believed her or not I can’t be sure. However our safe return coupled with the fact that nothing sinister had happened during our absence seemed to settle his nerves somewhat. My comment that a further twenty-four hour delay before Chloe came to Eden House would be a good idea also helped ease his mind. ‘If someone is watching Chloe and she doesn’t dash straight here they will be less inclined to believe we’re hoarding something meaningful.’
Chapter Twenty-two
It was one thing feeling certain that the box, or table as we now knew it to be, contained something of value, but finding those contents was quite another matter.
Having parked the car on the drive to give us room to work, we opened the box and removed the diptych. We stared at the two halves of the table so cunningly wrought by Chloe’s grandfather. Despite the far superior illumination provided by the neon lights in our garage, there was no indication of a hidden compartment of any description, no matter how small.
We examined the two leaves that formed the top surface of the table minutely, both before and after removing the end and side pieces which formed the legs. They provided no clue, so we then assembled the component parts to form the object they had been designed as. The result was an exquisite piece of furniture, but nothing more than that. Our inspection would have revealed even something the size of a postage stamp. The disappointment was clearly visible in everyone’s expressions.
‘Where do we go from here?’ Michael asked.
‘I think we ought to look at the facts that we know, or at least those that we believe to be accurate. We assume that Andrew and Devorah must have brought the works of art to this country, otherwise Bennett could not have found a buyer for the two Bellini miniatures. That leaves the other two miniatures and the Vermeer paintings unaccounted for.’
‘Perhaps my parents hid the other paintings somewhere inside Elmfield Grange,’ Chloe suggested.
Her theory was the logical answer and, as we stared at the table, everyone was convinced this had to be the solution. ‘I think we ought to search the house,’ Chloe continued, ‘because there are parts of the building that have been closed off for years. I don’t think anyone apart from me has been in some of the rooms for as long as I can remember. I used to explore them when I was a child.’ She paused and gave a mischievous grin. ‘There are even a couple of rooms that nobody else but Uncle David and I know exist. I found them by accident one day when I was about eight years old. When I mentioned them he told me the story behind them. Apparently my ancestor was a very jealous man and was married to a much younger woman. He suspected she was carrying on with a neighbour so when he had the house built he ordered those two secret rooms so he could spy on her.’
‘What happened?’ Eve asked, her curiosity distracting her from the main subject.
‘Apparently he was totally wrong – about his wife, that is. All he discovered was that his son was sleeping with one of the housemaids.’
The story provoked some very unsympathetic chuckles from her audience, which died away as Chloe continued, ‘I always thought that part of the buildings was where I would see ghosts.’
‘Did you find any?’
‘No, just a lot of furniture covered in dust sheets and that musty, closed-up smell you get when a place hasn’t been used for a long time.’
I recalled a time recently when Eve and I had helped search an empty dwelling for treasure. That hunt had cost us many fruitless hours when the truth had been staring us in the face all along. Had I or any of my companions the sense to realise it, history was about to repeat itself.
‘Why don’t we wait until your aunt and uncle are back from London,’ Eve suggested. ‘If your father took anyone at all into his confidence about the hiding place of those paintings it must surely have been his brother?’
‘They’ll be back tomorrow so I could ask them then.’ Chloe paused and looked at each of us in
turn. ‘Would you please come along when I ask them? I’d rather you were present because you have been so helpful that I feel you have a right to know the outcome. Also,’ she looked at Jäger and smiled, ‘I’d like them to meet my mother’s brother.’
Jäger returned his niece’s smile even before getting the translation. At the time, I thought nothing of that expression other than a normal exchange of friendly gestures.
In one sense the meeting with David and Valerie Kershaw was a great success. In another, it was totally frustrating. After hearing the outline of Jäger’s past they greeted him like a member of the family which, in a way, I suppose he was. Even the language problem proved no barrier to the warmth of their welcome. As a detached observer I was struck by the more relaxed attitude they both exhibited. Somehow, their fears, if fears they were, had been eased. Had their trip to London something to do with that, I wondered, and if so what reassurance had they gained from their visit to the capital.
The first demonstration of this came when David apologised for their lack of frankness when Eve and I had questioned them about Chloe’s parents. ‘The truth is that we had no hard evidence to give you. Certainly nothing we felt would help in your search. What little we did know or suspect was strictly taboo. Andrew insisted on that but I can now explain some of the lies we had to tell you.’ He turned to Chloe, pausing to allow Eve to translate before continuing. ‘We didn’t like deceiving you, but it was for your own protection. We did know your mother; she was devoted to you and loved you very much. Your father asked us to consider returning here to help him. He needed us to assist with looking after your mother in her final days and then to act as your parents. He was very persuasive, and although we knew that his occupation was secret, he told us enough to prove he wasn’t being paranoid when he said that if the truth about his activities came out and “certain people” discovered his true identity he would be dead within weeks.’