The Haunted Lady

by Bill Kitson

  ‘What information do you have that you consider is either important or urgent enough to interrupt Inspector Hardy?’

  I’d had as much of this character’s dismissive attitude as I could take. ‘Please give him a message. Tell him that if he wants to learn the identity of the person who has committed the three murders he’s been investigating, he can read it in tomorrow’s paper.’

  I hung up, but not before I heard a squawk of protest from the other end of the line.

  ‘Did you enjoy that?’ Eve asked.

  ‘More than the guy who answered the call will enjoy the rest of the day once Hardy gets to grips with what I told him.’ I explained what the man had said to upset me.

  ‘What do you intend to do about it?’ Eve asked. ‘Are you really going to phone the press?’

  I glanced at the clock. It was a few minutes after ten o’clock. ‘I’ll give Hardy until one o’clock to work out who the call was from. Let’s see how good his deductive powers are. If he hasn’t called by then I will ring the press. Not locally, though, I’ll give Paul Faulkner the story and Hardy can read about it over his bacon and eggs.’

  ‘I never suspected you had such a sadistic streak in you.’

  ‘Do you think I’m wrong? Should I reconsider?’

  ‘I didn’t say that. The answer is no, and no. By all means go ahead with your threat if you haven’t heard from Hardy.’

  The phone call didn’t come. Instead, Hardy arrived in person. Not only that but he brought DS Holmes and Johnny Pickersgill with him. The ‘posse’, as Eve termed them, arrived shortly after eleven thirty. Once she had let them in, Hardy asked her, ‘Was it you that phoned Dinsdale station and tried to get to speak to me earlier this morning?’

  ‘Actually it was Adam, but he got fobbed off by some pretentious twerp who refused to disturb you and that really got Adam’s back up. What was it that meant you couldn’t be disturbed? Were you trying to do the crossword or filling in your football pools coupon?’

  I might have a sadistic streak as Eve suggested, but she definitely possesses a rich vein of sarcasm.

  ‘No,’ Hardy replied, ‘I take it you haven’t seen this morning’s headlines? We were busy trying to get to grips with the motive for the suicide of a wealthy and prominent local figure.’

  ‘Yes we have,’ Eve responded. ‘And if you had a more cooperative receptionist we would have been able to tell you much earlier not only the motive but the killer in your other cases.’

  I had observed the exchange from the study doorway. During all this Johnny was studying the wallpaper with the interest of someone keen on DIY. At the same time, DS Holmes seemed preoccupied with his fingernails, and was possibly working out if they needed trimming.

  Up to that point I hadn’t spoken, because Eve seemed to be doing well enough without assistance, but now I thought it time to intervene with an explanation. I stepped forward. ‘We’ve known, or rather suspected for some time who committed the murders, but we couldn’t say anything before because we had little or no proof to back up our theory. We still don’t, come to think of it. But luckily, I don’t believe a dead man can sue for slander, so we can tell you what we believe happened.’

  Hardy gave a deep sigh. ‘Would you care to explain that, because I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about?’

  When everyone was supplied with a drink we began our tale. I led off, knowing that it would take some time. Despite this, we felt it was important that they should learn all the background and so we tried to get every possible fact across to them.

  ‘As we’ve suspected all along, this dates back to the late fifties and into the early sixties, when Chloe Kershaw’s father Andrew was working as a British agent behind the Iron Curtain in East Germany. At some point during that time, which was prior to the construction of the Berlin Wall, Kershaw met and fell in love with Devorah, a young East German girl of Jewish descent.’ I deliberately left out her surname, an omission I was glad of later. ‘After several months, knowing that she was pregnant and only too aware of the precarious nature of his mission, they decided to try and cross the border to the West. The consequences if Kershaw had been revealed as a British spy can only be imagined. Having planned their escape carefully they brought with them six works of art that Devorah’s father had entrusted to them. These were concealed in a piece of cunningly wrought furniture. Two of them were later sold on Kershaw’s behalf by Mark Bennett, and our understanding is that the money raised from this would be used to pay for the freedom and escape of the rest of Devorah’s family’s. The money was, in fact, nothing more or less than a ransom. Sadly, the plan failed and Devorah’s family remained in exile in a Russian camp where we understand they almost all died. They were probably disgraced because the authorities frowned on Devorah’s liaison with a westerner.’

  I paused to allow them time to dwell on what I’d told them so far, aware that there was much more to follow, before continuing by telling them how much the Bellini miniatures fetched.

  ‘The agent was Mark Bennett, who, along with Casper Harfleur, was also instrumental in helping Kershaw secrete the other artwork inside Dinsdale museum, hidden in a diptych recently re-hung in St Mary’s church. Thus far almost everything I’ve told you has been factual. The rest is mainly speculation, but much of it could be classed as informed guesswork.’

  I looked across at Eve who was ready to take up the narrative. My nod was sufficient cue for her to continue. The first part had been agreed beforehand in a telephone consultation between Eve and Chloe. The reason for this, Eve had told her, was to avoid any mention of Chloe’s uncle, or, wherever possible, details about any of her mother’s family.

  ‘We believe,’ Eve told the detectives, ‘that when Chloe attempted to establish her identity, her research alerted someone to her whereabouts. This provided the link they needed to the family that had owned the art treasures. I’m referring to the man everyone refers to as “Lumsden”. Adam’s previous career gave him many valuable contacts, some of them in very secretive organisations. Adam used one of those contacts to discover that Lumsden was, in fact, Hungarian by birth. He had served in the Hungarian secret police before transferring to the Stasi, the East German intelligence unit. We believe that Lumsden, either acting on his own or with the knowledge and approval of the East German authorities, came to Yorkshire to recover those hidden paintings. It’s quite probable that he sought the assistance of a double agent living in retirement in this area.

  ‘As the agent in question tried to discover the whereabouts of the paintings, he encountered first Mark Bennett and later Casper Harfleur. One or both of them gave him clues as to the location before they were killed, which explains the failed break-in at Dinsdale museum. Luckily, we retrieved the paintings before a second attempt was made – not that I think they’d have been discovered anyway, they were so cunningly concealed.

  ‘Meanwhile, Tom Fox became aware that a former agent he had known of during his time in Special Branch might be involved in the murders. Sadly,’ Eve said as she ended her part of the tale, ‘it might have been Adam and I who alerted him to the situation. We are fairly sure that Tom began asking questions and that caused the attack on him.’

  I took up where Eve had left off. ‘Before he collapsed, Tom Fox provided a clue as to the identity of his assailant but sadly none of us realised it until too late. As to Lumsden’s murder, we’ll never know whether he threatened to expose the agent as an East German spy or whether he witnessed one of the murders and tried to blackmail the killer. For whatever reason, the killer silenced him.’

  ‘You still haven’t told us whom you suspect or what the clue was that Tom left,’ Hardy complained.

  ‘First of all let’s clear up the problem you were wrestling with this morning. When you got here, you told us you’d been trying to work out why a prominent local resident committed suicide. Would you care to give us all the details you can about the event?’

  ‘I will, but I don’t see how it will hel
p. The dead man was Scott Martin, the solicitor. According to the pathologist’s report, Martin committed suicide at some point during the evening before last. His secretary discovered the body when she opened the offices yesterday morning. Martin had swallowed a lethal dose of cyanide.’

  ‘In that case, I think it’s safe to reveal that Scott Martin is the man we believe committed the murders. We think he realised that the game was up when he heard that the art treasures had been found and were to be auctioned. Knowing they were out of his reach must have been the last straw. He was also probably aware that his secret life as a double agent was in danger of being exposed and took his life to avoid the disgrace and a possible life sentence for murder.’

  As the trio of police officers stared in shock at my allegation, only Hardy seemed capable of speech. ‘Have you any proof to back up that claim?’

  ‘We do know that Martin was stationed in Germany at the time Andrew Kershaw was active. Martin’s cover was as a legal attaché to the British Embassy, but we do know that wasn’t his real purpose – and crucially we also know that he wasn’t using his real name. At the time, all British intelligence operatives were given what is known as “Trade Names” to shield their identity and to protect their families. Believing, as we do, that Martin was a double agent, his so-called legal role would have put him in prime position to handle, and to embezzle the ransom money. Because Martin was working under a Trade Name, his identity was known to only a few, and one of those was Tom Fox, who acquired that knowledge during his time with Special Branch. If you recall, when Tom was found there was a book nearby. Although we overlooked it at the time, that was a significant clue. The author’s name is Peter Scott. That was what Tom was trying to tell us when he left his fingerprint on the cover, indicating Scott.’

  ‘What was Martin’s motive?’ Hardy asked.

  ‘It certainly wasn’t from love of art. We think he wanted to sell the paintings. With Kershaw and others connected to him being long dead, he must have believed he would be safe to do so, having eliminated the two men who could have challenged his right to them, i.e. Bennett and Harfleur. When we attended the reopening of the museum, Johnny said something along the lines of “that guy will do pretty much anything so long as he can see a profit at the end of it”. I don’t think even Johnny anticipated Martin going as far as committing three murders, though.’

  ‘It’s a fascinating theory but I don’t think we’ll ever be able to prove it one way or the other,’ Hardy responded.

  ‘You’ll probably get proof, if only of the negative kind, if the murders cease now that Martin is dead,’ Eve commented. ‘And hopefully Tom Fox will confirm it all when he recovers.’

  ‘Alternatively, you might get more definitive proof if you were to conduct a search of Martin’s offices and home,’ I added. ‘My bet is you find the murder weapon.’

  Hardy glanced at his colleagues. Surprisingly, it was Holmes who seemed keenest. ‘I think it would be worth taking a look,’ he urged. ‘If we find the knife we’ll be in position to solve all the murders and the attack in one go and that would do wonders for our clear-up statistics.’

  After some discussion Hardy agreed to go along with the plan and promised to keep us in touch with developments.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  It was late the following afternoon when Hardy phoned us. Eve had been plying the vacuum for several hours and was taking a shower when he delivered the news.

  ‘We found it,’ he announced triumphantly. ‘We found a knife with traces of blood in the hilt. It was in a tool box in the garage at Martin’s house. We haven’t got the blood tests back from the laboratory as yet, but the pathologist has confirmed it is the murder weapon. In addition, we checked with Martin’s secretary and she said he was out of his office when all the attacks took place. That appears pretty conclusive to me. However, because of Martin’s position locally, and as he cannot be brought to trial, the chief constable wants the facts to remain out of the public domain. The chief said he’d been contacted by someone called Cooper from Whitehall who suggested it would be in the national interest for the files to be closed and sealed. That suggests your theory about Martin’s past was correct. A note will be placed in each of the victims’ files but that is all.’ Hardy paused and then added, ‘The chief constable asked me to request your cooperation in this. He seems to be worried that you’ll be phoning Fleet Street the minute this call is over.’

  I thought it over quickly. ‘I think Chloe Kershaw and her family should know some of the truth, if not all of it,’ I told him. ‘Apart from that, I’d be happy to oblige, on one condition.’

  ‘I don’t think it’s unreasonable to tell Miss Kershaw,’ Hardy agreed, ‘but what’s your other condition?’

  ‘I’d like you to tell me more about Martin’s suicide.’

  ‘Why do you want to know that?’

  ‘Call it idle curiosity, linked to a journalistic desire to have all the loose ends tied up. A bit like police officers do.’

  ‘OK, so what can I tell you?’

  ‘Did Martin’s secretary say what frame of mind he was in the day he died? Was he acting normally?’

  ‘He was fine. She said he even had an appointment with a new client which was the reason he stayed behind after she left. Apparently she was usually the last to leave.’

  ‘Did she say anything about the client? Did she see him – or her?’

  Hardy gave me what facts he knew, after which I asked him about the poison. Once I’d gleaned everything I wanted, I reiterated my promise to keep quiet and ended the call. It was ten minutes later when Eve came downstairs. She spoke to me, and when I failed to respond asked me if something was wrong.

  ‘Sorry, I was deep in thought. I’ve had Hardy on the phone while you were showering.’ I repeated most of what he’d said, omitting only the last part.

  ‘So what were you pondering so deeply that you went temporarily deaf?’

  ‘I was debating how much we ought to reveal to Chloe in the light of my promise to Hardy. We obviously can’t give her chapter and verse, but apart from anything else they need to be reassured that they are no longer in any sort of danger. Why not give Chloe a call and arrange for us to go over to the Grange. We might as well get it out of the way and then we can move on with married life.’

  Eve’s eyes sparkled, a reflection of her lovely smile. ‘Now that is one of the best ideas I’ve heard for a while.’

  The meeting was arranged for the following day, when Chloe, Michael and her aunt and uncle would all be available. We sat in the drawing room, where the first thing I noticed was that the paintings, most of which I guessed were Kershaw family ancestors had now been replaced. Obviously they had taken her promise that all danger had passed to heart.

  I mentioned the reappearance, to which Chloe replied, ‘Yes, we spent all morning putting them back.’

  We explained that the motive for the murders had been to get hold of the art treasures Andrew had taken such pains to hide. ‘He also secreted some highly sensitive intelligence information he gathered during his career in the secret service,’ I told them. ‘Those papers represented danger to you, because of your connection to him. I am assured that much of what is contained in those papers is still extremely sensitive, and they are now in the safe keeping of MI5.’

  ‘Is it really true that the danger is finally over?’ The hope in Valerie Kershaw’s face illustrated the stress she and those close to her had been living with for so long.

  ‘Yes, it is, and there is no longer the slightest element of risk. The man who committed the ghastly murders, has now paid the ultimate price for those crimes. There is nobody left who has the slightest inkling of your family’s involvement in espionage. We have been instructed by the authorities not to reveal any further information we are privy to.’

  ‘I think it’s safe to say that what you have told us is more than enough to satisfy us. We would probably feel uncomfortable if we were given full chapter and verse. I think
it’s a classic case of too much knowledge being a dangerous thing. Ignorance is bliss, that sort of thing,’ David told us.

  I turned to Valerie. ‘One thing that still puzzles me,’ I asked a trifle tentatively, ‘is those rumours about your meetings with Bennett.’

  Valerie looked at David, who nodded imperceptibly. She hesitated slightly before telling us, ‘One of the other things Andrew said was that we should keep in touch with Bennett and Harfleur. He didn’t say why, but stressed it was important. He said if there was going to be trouble, they knew something that would help. That was all, but it was enough to ensure I met them occasionally. David usually left it to me to contact them because he was busy running the estate. Recently I had to meet Bennett more often.’ Valerie grimaced as she added, ‘Last year was a disastrous one for the estate. The harvest was poor, and in addition one of David’s investments crashed which lost us more than was comfortable. Mark was in the process of finding buyers for some valuable china ornaments we decided were surplus to our needs. We don’t display them because they’re too fragile to be kept in proximity to a couple of energetic boys like our two.’

  We stayed for afternoon tea, a decorous form of celebration, during the course of which Michael revealed that they had advanced their wedding plans. ‘Now that we have the required documents we can go ahead, and as far as we’re concerned, the sooner the better.’

  ‘Will you come to the wedding?’ Chloe asked. ‘We thought it best to consult you to ensure the date we’ve chosen is convenient for you. After all, if it hadn’t been for your investigation we might never have been able to tie the knot. We owe you so much that we really want you to be there.’

  ‘Chloe’s right, we’re all deeply indebted to you,’ David added, ‘not only for making Chloe and Michael’s wedding possible, but for everything else you have done.’

  It was early evening when we drove back to Laithbrigg. During the journey, Eve asked the question I had expected from Hardy. ‘One thing that puzzles me is why Scott Martin killed himself? You said it yourself – there was no proof, no concrete evidence to point to him as the killer, not unless someone authorised a snap search of his garage, which was highly unlikely because he was seen as a reputable local solicitor. Even if he did fall under suspicion, all he would have to do is get rid of the murder weapon by either throwing it in the river or burying it in the back garden and nobody would have been any the wiser. So why did he commit suicide?’