An Exhibition of Murder

by An Exhibition of Murder (retail) (epub)

  It was high time Jasper found his way to the elusive Anton Müller. But he assumed the man would not be advertising himself.

  Although…

  Jasper’s eyes went wide. Of course!

  He turned the light on and jumped out of bed. Red sat up with an indignant look as if he wanted to say: you don’t have to rush now, he’s already gone.

  But Jasper patted his head and muttered, ‘If this worked, it would be brilliant.’ He ran out of the room to find the old newspapers, reminding himself in the last instant to close his door quietly so as not to wake the other inhabitants of the house.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Anton Müller closed his eyes a moment to concentrate fully on his next move. He liked the early morning when everything was quiet and nobody was in the theatre to break his concentration. He stood on the small stage balancing his weight as if feeling his way around a new environment. The scent of wood and dusty fabric was heavy on the air. He needed to attune to the atmosphere of the building. He needed to feel one with the place. Only then he could perform his magic and astound the audience.

  But his mind wasn’t fully focused. How could it be when so much was going through his brain? Agonising questions of how the police were doing with the investigation, if they had already found his fingerprints on the mask, if they would come for him here.

  It was madness to stay in Vienna. But he had been booked to perform here for ten days and he couldn’t break his contract. He needed the money. He needed to keep his reputation intact, that he was reliable, otherwise no one else would ask him to come. This was his career, which he had built with his own hands by hard work…

  He opened his eyes and looked at his hands. Once he had been proud of them and of their accomplishments, but these days he wasn’t so sure anymore. Why had he let emotion carry him away? Emotion over a dead father who had never cared for him? Who had cruelly condemned his life’s choices and cut him out of his will?

  Why had his death mattered so much that he had risked everything for it? His career, his freedom, his neck…

  He took a deep breath but his heartbeat wouldn’t slow down. If he didn’t manage to regain his calm, the performance would be a disaster and his name would suffer.

  ‘The Magnificent Müller?’ a voice called out to him. He looked down the aisle in between the rows of seats. A man came over to him.

  ‘Yes?’ His nerves were tense. It could be an admirer, or even a rich man asking him to perform at a private party. A welcome source of extra income. But it could also be a policeman coming to arrest him.

  ‘I saw your name in the paper and I wanted to come and see you.’

  ‘At this hour?’ Anton tried to sound light but his unease increased. A rich man would be in bed, sleeping off a late night with friends.

  His visitor made a dismissive gesture. ‘I like to get up early. It gives one a head start.’

  For what? Anton wondered.

  ‘You have such an amazing reputation. You appear out of nowhere and you disappear into thin air.’

  ‘If you want to know my tricks, I cannot reveal them. It’s against our code.’

  The man was close now and turned right to the steps leading up to the stage. ‘I wouldn’t dream of asking you to break any code.’ He ascended the steps and came over to Anton. ‘I’m not interested in what you do here in the theatre. I wondered if your abilities ever come in handy in real life.’

  Anton burst out laughing. ‘My dear sir, you are not the first to approach me in this manner. You want to learn the ability to appear and disappear quickly so you can escape your creditors or your angry wife. But I can’t teach this to you. It’s an ability that requires much practice and you can’t use this kind of illusion at will, for your own ends. You have to believe in it to make it happen.’

  ‘Oh, I can imagine situations where I would want to believe.’ The man halted before him. ‘If my life depended on it.’

  Anton took another breath. The man was tall, broad, with a determined face. Older than he was and probably stronger. He wasn’t looking for any confrontation with him. ‘I don’t follow.’ Was he perhaps an escaped criminal who wanted to evade the police? Or a bank robber who thought Anton could make him appear inside the safe so he could steal to his heart’s delight?

  The man said, ‘You were at the museum…’

  Nein! Anton turned away from him, intending to flee down the other end of the stage and run for his life. But the man caught his arm and twisted it behind his back. Anton cried out in pain.

  The man hissed, ‘You’re not going anywhere, Mr Müller. We are going to talk about Sir Peter Treemore, about your father and about the golden mask of death.’

  Anton’s head went light with the pain in his arm and the hopelessness of his situation. He should have fled Vienna anyway. But he hadn’t wanted to. Not just for his career or for money, but…

  ‘Anton! Darling! No! You’re mistaken. You don’t understand at all. Let go of him.’ Quick footfalls raced over, pounded up the steps to the stage and then she was beside them, a flurry of disarrayed dress and wild hair, wide eyes, waving hands.

  The man released his grip a little, and surprise lined his voice as he said, ‘Violet, what are you doing here?’

  * * *

  Jasper stared in disbelief at the girl who clawed at his arm to make him release the illusionist. She kept screaming that he didn’t understand and he should let go. She was about as hysterical as she had been after her father’s murder. But now she was here at the theatre where the Magnificent Müller performed. She was here, with her father’s killer, defending him.

  What is this? Jasper tightened his grip on the young man. ‘I’m not letting him go. He murdered your father. He should be brought to the police station.’

  ‘He didn’t murder my father.’

  ‘Then why do I have an eye witness who saw him bent over the body, his hands on the mask of death?’

  ‘I wanted to take the blasted thing.’ Anton Müller spoke in an agitated, breathless voice. ‘I had come to take it, you understand. It belonged to my father. He gave his life for it. I went in and Treemore was already lying on the floor, the mask over his face. I didn’t understand what had happened and closed in. I leaned over to take the mask. Then I saw the blood on his chest. I panicked and ran. I didn’t kill him.’

  ‘A likely story,’ Jasper growled. He looked at Violet. ‘Do you believe this?’

  ‘Of course. I know Anton couldn’t kill.’

  ‘You know? But you told me your father was being threatened. You asked me to keep an eye on him.’

  ‘I knew Anton wanted to steal the mask and I wanted to prevent that. I never wanted him to go to prison.’ She burst into tears.

  Jasper blinked. ‘You knew of his plans? But how?’

  ‘We met. I love him.’

  Now Jasper was truly dumbfounded. ‘You love the son of the man your father allegedly murdered?’

  ‘My father didn’t murder anyone. Demain did that. We wanted him to get scared and confess.’

  Jasper shook his head. ‘I don’t believe one word of it. Demain is not dead. Sir Peter is.’

  Anton sighed. ‘That was never supposed to happen. No one was supposed to die. We wanted to scare Demain into giving us the mask. Or money.’

  Violet provided, ‘So we could elope and marry and be happy.’

  ‘With money you had taken by force?’ Jasper shook his head. ‘How could you believe you could be happy for even a single moment?’

  ‘I would have been happy,’ Violet said with emphasis. ‘I love Anton and I want to be with him. I would have done anything for him.’

  Even kill your father? Jasper wondered.

  He suddenly felt very tired and very empty. He still held Anton but not as tightly anymore. ‘You were seen standing over the body. That means you are in deep waters.’

  ‘I know. My fingerprints are also on the mask. I should never have touched it. Or I should have taken it along after I had, but…
I was so upset that he was really dead. I…’ Anton swallowed hard. ‘I had wished him dead, I can’t deny it. And there he was, as if my wish had come true. As if the mask had killed him for me. I couldn’t take it. It’s an evil thing.’

  Jasper was certain the mask had not stabbed Sir Peter, but he didn’t say so. ‘You are a man who can do the impossible. Perhaps you need not use physical force to kill.’

  Anton hissed. ‘I told you people would take it like that.’ He eyed Violet desperately. ‘We illusionists are seen as evil conjurors. I should never have—’

  ‘Don’t talk nonsense.’ Violet stood up straight. ‘Your tricks are no more than sleights of hand, like Papa used to perform to get money off his friends. An illusion, a trick of the eye or the mind. They are not real.’

  Jasper looked her over. ‘But you are real. You are here, with the son of the man who died on your father’s expedition. Sir Peter would never have allowed you to be together. For many reasons. Now you are free to do as you please. You even have all the money you can ever want.’

  Violet’s eyes flashed. ‘How can you say such a heartless thing?’

  ‘It’s true.’

  ‘Not really, because Iris will never let me go. She’s attached to me like glue. She thinks she knows what is best for me. I’ve only managed to leave the house because she fell asleep by my bedside and I could slip away without her noticing. But she’s just an old maid who doesn’t know what love means. I don’t want her advice.’

  Jasper didn’t like the callous way in which she disposed of a woman who had cared for her all of her life, who sat by her bed at night worrying over her, while Violet plotted how to evade her and meet this young man.

  Violet continued, turning red, ‘I don’t need her or anybody else. I will marry Anton and we will be happy.’

  There was too much emphasis in the statement, as if she needed to convince herself she would indeed be happy. That she could be, after what had happened. Jasper said softly, ‘Anton is under suspicion of murder.’

  She looked at him, seemingly in denial, and then her features crumpled and she sobbed in her hands. ‘Why can I never be happy? Am I not allowed to be happy? No, I am not. I am not.’

  She sank to her knees and beat the floorboards with her hands. ‘I’m never going to be happy. Jane. Jane.’

  Jasper looked at Anton. ‘Who is Jane?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ But something in Anton’s eyes told Jasper he had an idea or he had at least heard Violet mention this person before. He also saw the helplessness in the young man’s features as he watched Violet throw herself to the floor and thrash about. As if this wasn’t the first time she had unravelled like this in his presence.

  Jasper eyed him sharply. ‘You were with her when she collapsed. You placed her in a carriage and paid the driver to take her home. You pretended to be only a passer-by.’

  ‘To evade that witch who guards her. She believes she can control Violet. She never lets her do anything on her own. She even encourages these thoughts that Violet will never be happy. That she is guilty of something.’

  Violet sobbed even louder.

  Jasper said to Anton, ‘If I let go of you, will you run?’ He added, squeezing his arm, ‘I tell you it would be very unwise. I may be able to help you, both. But you must trust me.’

  Anton looked at Violet. ‘I have little choice. I’m not leaving her here in this state.’

  Jasper believed the sincerity in his eyes and let him go. He couldn’t arrest him anyway, and the evidence that he had stood over the body wasn’t a clear proof he had killed Sir Peter.

  Still, the shock of finding Violet here and at her revelation she loved Anton Müller rushed through his veins. Something was wrong, and he intended to find out exactly what it was.

  Anton knelt beside Violet and patted her on the back. Her violent sobbing turned to silent crying and then she turned over and lay staring up at the ceiling, her face very still. As if she were herself dead.

  Jasper shivered looking down on her. He asked softly, ‘How did you meet Anton, Violet?’

  Anton replied, ‘We met here in Vienna. I had booked a string of performances at this theatre and I knew Sir Peter had a house here in the city. I walked past it several times to look up at it, wondering if I should confront him about my father’s death. I wanted answers, but I also expected Sir Peter wouldn’t want to give them. He had never liked my father and he certainly wouldn’t like me. My father had told everyone who wanted to hear I had betrayed him by choosing to become a travelling illusionist.’

  He smiled bitterly. ‘I walked up and down the street, and then this lovely young woman came out of the door. I realised it had to be his daughter and saw a way in through her. She wasn’t alone though, but with an elderly lady who accompanied her to the shops. After I had followed them for some time, they went into a tearoom and the companion left her there for a while. I went over to her and told her who I was. She startled, of course, but wanted to hear my story. We agreed to meet in the park, the Prater, where it is always busy.’

  Violet spoke in a low toneless voice, ‘I knew Iris would not want to come to the Prater. She doesn’t like walking for the sake of walking. For her it always has to lead somewhere. I could convince her to let me go on my own. It wasn’t easy. But I wanted it and I can get my way if I want something.’

  Like freedom through your father’s death? Jasper wondered.

  Anton picked up the tale again. ‘I met her there and we talked about my father’s death. I soon discovered she was distraught about it and didn’t believe her father had anything to do with it. She convinced me it had been Demain and he should pay for it. That we could use money he might pay us to have a good life. Together.’ He threw Jasper a pleading look from his knelt position beside Violet. ‘I fell in love with her. Is it so hard to see why? She’s beautiful.’

  And vulnerable, Jasper supplied silently, and wild. A young woman who is like a horse running free. Gorgeous to behold but hard to capture.

  Did Anton have any idea of who Violet really was?

  Jasper himself had been easily beguiled by her ways, her smile, her plea to help her father. Only later he had realised he had acted on words that he had no proof of, assumptions that were not supported by facts. Even he, a trained inspector, had fallen for her charms. Could he blame Anton for his affection for her?

  ‘You believed Demain had killed your father and you sent the letter threatening him. But why also to Sir Peter?’

  ‘I never sent one to Sir Peter.’ Anton’s eyes went wide. ‘Why would I? I knew he wasn’t involved.’

  Jasper looked at Violet. ‘You told me he received such a letter.’

  ‘He did.’

  She had known the word choice from the letter sent to Demain by Anton. She could have invented the letter her father supposedly had received. But why? What for?

  The obvious reason coming to mind was to create an illusion he was under threat from an outsider, and to get away with the murder she herself wanted to commit. But by drawing the attention to a vengeful party related to the accident on the excavation, she was setting up Anton to be blamed for her father’s murder. Anton, the man she claimed to love.

  Claimed.

  Jasper stared at the beautiful still face, the wide-open eyes seeing nothing around her. What were they looking into? The distant past? Or the recent days when she had stabbed her own father to death?

  He shivered again. He had met cold-blooded killers throughout his career, but it never got any easier to look into the face of evil, especially if it was one as lovely as this.

  He reminded himself he didn’t know she had actually done it, but how else could he explain the letter sent to her father?

  He frowned hard, trying to grasp some element of an answer that eluded him when he tried to close in on it. Something someone had said? Something he had seen?

  No, it was out of reach.

  Anton said, ‘I only sent the letter to Demain. We had decided that we would
give him a scare at the opening when I turned up and he would glimpse me among the crowd. People say I look like my father. We wanted to have him believe it was a warning.’

  ‘And then?’

  ‘He would agree to give us money and we would leave Vienna.’

  ‘That’s not what you said before. You were in the room to take the mask.’

  ‘Yes.’ Anton stood up straight and faced Jasper. ‘I wasn’t content with a little money. I wanted the discovery my father had made to be credited to him. I couldn’t bear the idea of the mask being presented to all those people attending the opening as if it was Sir Peter’s and Demain’s. During Herziger’s speech, I decided on an impulse to go up and take it so the display cabinet would be empty when the people came upstairs to see the mask. It would be the talk of the town. Of course, the cat burglar called Lynx would be blamed and Violet and I could hold on to the mask—’

  ‘I would never have wanted to take it with us,’ Violet suddenly sat up and looked at him with a deathly pale face. ‘It’s an ugly thing, an evil thing. It would have ruined us. Driven us apart.’ She scrambled to her feet. ‘I can’t stay here. I must go home. Iris will be angry with me that I left.’

  Jasper looked at Anton. ‘I want to speak to you again, soon. Keep yourself available. Don’t leave Vienna.’

  Anton shook his head. ‘I won’t leave Violet behind.’

  She was walking down the aisle and Jasper suppressed the question he wanted to ask Anton: whether he believed her capable of having killed her own father. What answer did he expect from the man who claimed to love her? These two would defend each other…

  Which meant they might have done it together and be clearing each other with their convincing emotional act… Could he take anything they had said at face value?

  But there had been a letter sent to Demain. Demain had received it and burned it.

  Jasper frowned hard. He said to Anton, ‘We will speak again.’ Then he rushed after Violet, who was already in the lobby.