An Exhibition of Murder

by An Exhibition of Murder (retail) (epub)

  She frowned. A kind passer-by? So she had really been out. It hadn’t been a dream. But what about the man who claimed to love her? Why hadn’t he helped her? Had he not seen she had collapsed?

  Jasper said, ‘I’m sorry this is such a hard time for you. I know you blame me—’

  Iris cleared her throat and signalled him not to continue but he did anyway. ‘I know you blame me and I can understand that you said so in a moment of high emotion. I even blame myself that I didn’t stay near your father all of the time. I wanted to tell you straight away but it seemed better to wait until you were calmer.’

  ‘Calmer? My father is dead. How can I ever feel calm again?’

  ‘I mean to say…’ Jasper drew breath. ‘I wanted to give you time to think about it. But when I heard about your collapse, I thought it was better to come and see you. Speak about it. That might ease your mind.’

  ‘Ease my mind?’ she repeated. ‘I can’t imagine how anything could ease my mind. I knew my father was under threat from this madman who accused him of murder and I did nothing to stop him.’ She closed her hands into fists and fixed her eyes on him with a direct stare. ‘Yes, I did do something, I asked you to help, but that was a mistake.’

  Jasper flinched and she continued quickly, ‘I should never have asked you. You owe me nothing. Now please leave.’ She turned her head away and closed her eyes.

  ‘You heard the girl,’ Iris said. ‘She must rest.’

  ‘But I want to explain to her—’

  ‘Are your selfish needs to explain yourself and get her forgiveness more important than her wellbeing? If you know what is good for her, you will leave. Right away.’

  * * *

  Jasper hesitated a moment. The news about Violet’s collapse in the street or rather her arrival at home in a shocking state of confusion and disarray had travelled quickly via a talkative maid of the Treemores who had thought up an errand right after it had happened and rushed to speak to her aunt who was a cook at the Herzigers. Beate who had entered the kitchen to discuss the evening meal had overheard them talking and immediately brought word to Jasper. The revelation had shaken him and convinced him it had been wrong not to discuss Violet’s feelings with her at once. She had earlier struck him as a very sensitive girl and he didn’t want her father’s death to destroy her. But now that he was here, he wondered if the presence of the man she blamed for her father’s death would in fact worsen her condition.

  Iris Phelps touched his arm. ‘Please leave.’ Where she had sounded indignant before, her voice was now more concerned. For him, it seemed, as he peered into her brown eyes. He followed her out of the room. In the corridor she said, ‘I can understand you want to speak with her, Inspector. But it is no use. She is too distraught. Her father was all she had and… the realisation he will never come back to her is only just sinking in. You must give her time.’

  ‘I’m worried for her.’ Jasper brushed back his hair. ‘Why was she alone in the street? She could have been hurt.’

  Iris’s eyes widened. ‘Do you think the killer who came for her father wants to harm her as well? But why? I heard from the police they are looking for a burglar who is supposed to have slain Sir Peter when he caught him trying to steal the golden mask of death.’

  ‘Yes, but I don’t agree with their theory. I think the killer wasn’t a burglar he happened upon. I think it was someone he knew.’ Someone he trusted even, judging by his non-defensive attitude when he had died.

  Iris raised a hand to her face. ‘You can’t mean that, Inspector.’ She looked back at the door of the room in which Violet rested. ‘That will undo her even further.’

  ‘Then don’t tell her. But I’m telling you. I need to know if you felt any tension in the days before Sir Peter died.’

  To his surprise she began to laugh. ‘Tension, Inspector? Sir Peter was like a caged animal when he was preparing for something major. Whether it was an excavation or an exhibition, he was highly strung and difficult to deal with. I can’t say if it was any worse than other times.’

  ‘And do you recall one morning over breakfast, a letter arriving and Sir Peter banging the table with his fist in response?’

  ‘He was often angry when a prospective sponsor told him no. I can’t recall a special occasion. Why?’

  ‘He might have received a death threat.’

  Her eyes widened again. ‘Really? But would he not have mentioned such a thing? To the police or to Herziger or Demain? They were involved in the exhibition with him.’

  ‘You immediately assume the death threat has to do with the exhibition.’

  ‘Oh, excuse me.’ She flushed. ‘It may of course have been personal but… It seemed more logical it was about the mask. The newspapers were writing about this curse and…’

  ‘The accident at the expedition. Were you present when Karl Müller died?’

  ‘I heard there had been an accident and that they were trying to rescue him. I didn’t go to watch. Violet went to ask how they were progressing.’

  ‘She wasn’t disturbed at the idea of a man buried alive?’

  ‘Oh, no, she was quite positive they would save him. It was a blow to her when they weren’t able to. She had put such confidence in them. She always believed her father could do the impossible.’

  ‘Did Violet like Karl Müller?’

  ‘She didn’t have much to do with him. Every now and then he talked to her about a discovery or something interesting they were hoping to find. But he kept to himself really.’ She hesitated a moment and added then, ‘He wasn’t in the same league as Demain and Sir Peter. He had experience, yes, but no money to back his efforts or influential names. That was why he needed to go on another’s expedition. He was really just a workman.’

  ‘I see. And do you have any idea how the accident might have happened? I heard there was an English journalist on the site who might have gained illegal access to the excavation area? Could his behaviour have caused the collapse?’

  ‘I have no idea. I don’t think he came anywhere near it. But when it was hot, the excavation site was almost deserted. Only Müller kept working all hours.’

  So he would have been there alone, Jasper thought, and the others would have known that. Still, he wasn’t quite sure why Müller needed to die. After all, if he was just a workman, as Iris Phelps had put it, there on another’s credit, why would he have to be eliminated? He surely couldn’t have taken credit for the discoveries.

  ‘Did you notice anything odd in the days before the accident? Did Müller argue with anyone?’

  ‘Oh, he argued all the time. He was never content with how the work was carried out. He was particularly angry at one local worker whom he accused of careless conduct and of breaking things. He got him dismissed. Perhaps he came back and…’ She tilted her head. ‘You don’t believe it was an accident, do you? Else you would need not ask me all of these questions.’

  ‘It may have been an accident. But someone thought otherwise and came after Sir Peter because of this mistaken assumption. I’m trying to establish who that might have been.’

  She frowned. ‘I can’t imagine anyone took Müller’s death so hard. He was nothing but a workman to Sir Peter and Demain, and a virtual stranger to Violet and Herziger who came to visit the site with his daughter. I did see Beate speak with Müller on one occasion, away from the others, but he was probably just pointing out something to her.’

  Jasper made a mental note to look into any contact between Karl Müller and Beate Herziger before they had met on the excavation site. Perhaps there could be a lead there.

  He smiled at Iris Phelps. ‘Thank you for your time. You must get back to your patient. I hope Violet will quickly recover.’

  ‘She will from the physical strain. But mentally…’ Iris sighed. ‘She never got over her mother’s death, poor girl. And now her father gone too. A full orphan. With a great deal of money. Men will line up to take advantage of her. I can’t bear to think what will happen to her if she marries
the wrong man.’

  ‘Is there anyone particularly interested in her at the moment?’ Jasper asked. Did the motive for her father’s murder lie in her status as heiress after his death? Had someone seen a way to money?

  ‘I wouldn’t know.’ Iris hesitated a moment. She looked down.

  ‘Come, come, you are her close confidante. You must know something.’

  ‘It’s rather that she doesn’t tell me things. For instance, why she wants to go out alone.’

  He leaned over. ‘You suspect her of meeting someone?’

  ‘Suspect is not the right word. The possibility occurred to me, but I dismissed it. Violet is too innocent for secret rendezvous. And how would she have met anyone? She was always with her father. Going to the opera and concerts.’

  ‘So you can’t give me the name of a man who might be interested in marrying her now that her father is dead?’

  ‘Not a concrete name, no.’ Iris waited another moment. She shifted weight uncomfortably. ‘I really wouldn’t want to cast suspicion on anyone who has been so good to us.’

  ‘Yes?’ Jasper encouraged her.

  ‘Well, of course, Erneste Demain is a bachelor.’

  Jasper jerked upright. ‘Demain? He must be as old as her father was.’

  ‘He is in his late forties. But many a man his age has married a much younger wife. And he has never hidden that he thinks Violet very accomplished.’

  Jasper’s thoughts raced. Had Demain sent the letters with the death threats himself? To make sure that it was known that both he and Sir Peter were the targets of a killer? So that after Demain himself killed Sir Peter, suspicion would never fall on him, because he was cast as the next victim and never as a potential murderer?

  It was an intriguing idea.

  But did it quite fit the facts? Sir Peter had believed there was an actual man lurking to strike at them. Anton Müller, Karl’s son.

  Then again of course, this piece of information had been provided to him by… Erneste Demain.

  Jasper couldn’t be sure Sir Peter had actually told Demain the things Demain claimed he had. He needed to consider better what had been said to him and what Jasper actually knew to be facts.

  Trouble was, that he knew very little that was factually true in a sense that he had proof of it.

  This was a very complicated case which got more intricate by the minute.

  Iris Phelps put her hand on his arm. ‘Please Inspector, you mustn’t mention to Demain that I told you this. Perhaps it’s just my interpretation of his behaviour around her. You know how they say spinsters want to see a romance everywhere.’ She smiled apologetically. ‘I have no illusions that we can carry on together, Violet and me. She will need a male protector. It’s logical to assume this will be Erneste Demain. I want to stay with Violet, continue as her companion. I cannot afford to alienate him.’

  Erneste Demain, sole surviving partner in the expedition, guardian of the fabled golden mask, and possibly future husband of Violet Treemore. It seemed Sir Peter’s death had given Demain all he could ever have wished for.

  Had his hand planted the dagger into Sir Peter’s heart?

  Iris Phelps pleaded, ‘Promise me, Inspector, that you will not mention to him that I said—’

  ‘Of course not. I can always attribute it to society gossip. If I need to discuss it with him at all.’

  She nodded. ‘Thank you. I’ll now go sit with Violet again. This is just like when she was little. I was so afraid for her, wondering whether she would ever recover. She was so confused and frightened.’

  Jasper wished her all the best and walked away deep in thought about Demain. He had seen him in the back of the audience towards the end of Herziger’s speech. But he could have gone up to see Sir Peter and stab him, only to return to the crowd acting like nothing had happened. Demain had visited him to impress upon him that he was afraid for his life. A clever bit of acting?

  * * *

  Jasper awoke with a shock from a dream in which he travelled by carriage through Vienna looking for the golden mask which had been stolen. Every time he saw it, on a house front, or over the face of a statue, he couldn’t grasp it. It vanished and he had to look for it again.

  But now he was wide awake, disturbed by some sharp sound coming from his bedroom window.

  Red sat up beside the bed, growling low.

  A voice said in a sharp accented English, ‘Tell your dog to stay where he is, Inspector. I have something very important to tell you.’

  Jasper blinked. Red’s growling intensified and he told the Labrador to be still and lie down. The dog didn’t seem to think this a very good idea because Jasper had to repeat the order two more times before Red obeyed.

  The voice from the window said, ‘Very good. I will keep this short because I am not in a comfortable position here.’

  Jasper pushed himself up in the pillows. ‘Are you the Lynx?’

  ‘Well deduced, Inspector. Although it wasn’t really that hard. How many visitors do you usually get in the middle of the night, via your bedroom window?’

  ‘What are you doing here?’ Jasper queried.

  ‘I’ve come to tell you something important about Sir Peter Treemore’s murder. I read in the newspapers I’m suspected of having committed this deed. I can tell you I’m innocent.’

  ‘Tell that to Marktherr. In fact, we could arrange for a meeting—’

  ‘No, no. I’m not a killer. But I am a thief. I’m wanted. I won’t show my face to anyone in daylight.’

  Jasper reached for the switch of the bedside lamp but a sharp reprimand stopped his hand. ‘If you put the light on, Inspector, I will be gone. Not only will you not see my face, but you will also not learn what I have to tell you. Is it worth it?’

  Jasper retracted his hand. ‘I’m listening.’

  ‘Sensible. You see, I’m the man you need to solve this whole thing. I’m your eye witness.’

  Jasper sucked in air. ‘You saw the murder?’

  ‘Not the actual stabbing but the moment right after where the killer placed the mask of death over the man’s features.’

  ‘Tell me all about it. In detail.’

  ‘I had decided to steal the mask while the opening speech was given downstairs. I have no use for a mask really – I’m more of a necklace and bracelet man – but I liked the challenge of it: the opportunity which comes only once in a lifetime to take something so rare. I scaled the building at the rear and reached the window of the room where the mask was kept. It was already open. That made me suspicious and I thought about retreating. It might have been a trap. The police are eager to catch me and perhaps they anticipated my interest in the mask. But I’m a man who likes to cross swords with the police so I climbed on and looked in. I saw a man bent over a prostrate body, his hands on the golden mask which was on the body’s face. I realised immediately it was a murder scene I was looking at. I pulled away, climbed down and left the scene. That is all I can tell you.’

  ‘Not quite all. You’ve seen a man bent over the dead body. His appearance is imprinted on your memory. Tell me about him.’

  The Lynx laughed softly. ‘You put it well, Inspector. But you are right. In that moment of shock I took in many details. The man was young, no older than thirty.’

  Jasper’s eyes widened as this excluded both Demain and Herziger.

  ‘He was very blond and lean built. Tall I would say, although as he was bent over, it is hard to tell exactly.’

  Jasper’s thoughts raced. He didn’t see anyone in the case who fit this description. But one person might do. The elusive Anton Müller. He asked, ‘Have you ever seen a photograph in the papers of the deceased expedition member Karl Müller?’

  ‘As a matter of fact I have. That nosy prig Rupert Rohmann has written about him.’

  ‘You don’t like Rohmann?’

  ‘He also wrote about me, once upon a time. But an addiction to alcohol after his wife left him ruined his career. He was reduced to writing about meaningless char
ity events where he invited himself as no one wanted to have him. He thinks writing about Müller’s death and some curse can put him back in business.’

  ‘So you saw a photo of Müller. Would you say that the man bending over the dead body of Sir Peter Treemore looked anything like Müller?’

  ‘That is hard to tell as the photograph didn’t tell me whether he was blond or not. But his facial features bore some resemblance, yes. What are you thinking, Inspector? Dead men do not come back to murder their partners.’

  ‘No. I thank you for dropping by’ – he couldn’t quite keep the irony out of his voice – ‘to tell me this. Of course I have to take your word for it. You could be lying to avert suspicion.’

  ‘Come, come. I’ve been active for many years. I’ve never killed anyone. I wouldn’t have killed this man either. I’m here to give you the information that might lead you to the real murderer.’

  ‘Wait.’ Jasper shot upright in bed. ‘Why me? Why not go to Marktherr?’

  ‘This house is much easier to scale.’

  ‘I don’t believe you. Why me?’

  There was a moment’s silence as if the Lynx was seriously considering his question. ‘Like policemen gather information about criminals, we collect information about the men who may hunt us. I know your reputation. I even heard of the case you solved on the Riviera. I know you love a puzzle and you want answers. If anyone can solve this murder, it is you.’

  ‘Thank you for flattering me.’

  ‘It’s true. You were here for a reason, were you not?’ A soft sound indicated his visitor was leaving.

  A reason, Jasper wondered. Had Herziger invited him for a special reason? Had he known his future son-in-law was in danger? Had he wanted Sir Peter to be watched and saved, for the sake of Beate who wanted to marry him?

  Or had Herziger been afraid his daughter would do something rash and he hoped that the presence of a former policeman would keep her from it?

  But the Lynx, if he could be believed, had not seen a woman leaning over the dead body, but a man. Young, blond, resembling Karl Müller.