An Exhibition of Murder

by An Exhibition of Murder (retail) (epub)

  Chapter Fifteen

  Jasper stood outside the house, feeling like he had just been punched in the gut. The therapist hired by Sir Peter Treemore to study his daughter’s troubled dreams was Kurt Baum. The very man he had met at the museum, looking into Sir Peter’s death, claiming that he could tell criminals by their pattern of thought.

  Had he listened to Sir Peter’s worries and believed Violet might have a criminal mind? Had he assumed her guilt right away when Sir Peter had been murdered and had he approached Jasper at the museum to prove it?

  Jasper could just kick himself that he had given the man any kind of information. At the same time, anger washed through him that someone who worked with vulnerable people and had access to their deepest thoughts would callously use what he had learned in a private conversation to satisfy his curiosity or his need for data in his research.

  He wasn’t about to accept this and decided to visit the man in question right away.

  But before he could give the address on the card Iris Phelps had provided him with to a cab driver, a man assaulted him by jumping at him and seizing his arm. The scent of alcohol wafted in his face as the man breathed, ‘I have to talk to you. In private. I know everything.’

  Jasper recognised the reporter who had buzzed about the murder scene and had been told by Herziger to leave. What was his name?

  Rupert Rohmann.

  ‘Mr Rohmann?’ He pulled a wry expression. ‘You smell as if you’ve been drinking for quite some time.’

  ‘Just a drop of cognac in my coffee. Nothing more.’

  Jasper didn’t detect coffee. Just alcohol and lots of it. But he wasn’t about to argue with a tipsy man. ‘I see. The coffee in Vienna is said to be very good.’

  ‘The best, the best. You must come with me. Yes, try Punschkrapferl, a local speciality.’ Rohmann gestured for a cab to halt and dragged him inside while mentioning an address.

  Having just heard about Kurt Baum’s duplicity, Jasper didn’t feel like consuming anything at all, let alone something with the name Punschkrapferl, but he did acknowledge he might learn something here and leaned back against the cab’s seating. ‘You must know all the best places, Mr Rohmann.’

  ‘Yes, I meet sources everywhere. I’m first class.’ He poked Jasper with an elbow.

  Jasper felt disgust mingled with pity for the man who had obviously lost touch with reality.

  They whisked past a four-storey hotel with palm trees in front and a frieze on top featuring figures and animals, tiny to behold from down here. Everything seemed to tower over the man in the street, creating an extra sense of grandeur.

  Rohmann grinned. ‘This is nothing like London, eh, Jasper? Vienna is really cospomo—, cosmipol—’

  ‘Cosmopolitan,’ Jasper supplied. With the moment he regretted his decision more. This man wouldn’t make any sense at all.

  They halted at a coffee house with an elegant wrought-iron sign reading Café Herzog and Rohmann staggered inside, waving him along. Jasper tried not to feel too embarrassed to be seen by the other guests as he followed the drunken reporter. Fortunately, most of them were reading newspapers from stands placed in front of them on the tables, beside cups of coffee and delicious-looking pastries.

  Rohmann led him into a private room away from the crowd, turned to him and said in a perfectly normal tone, ‘There, welcome aboard, Jasper. Coffee?’ He snapped his fingers at a waiter. ‘Two Wiener Melange and two apfelstrudel.’ The man hurried away with enough deference to clarify to Jasper that Rohmann was by no means an unwanted guest here.

  Rohmann said, ‘That about the Punschkrapferl was just a joke. No man should ever be forced to eat pink glazed confections. The apfelstrudel is much better, especially here.’

  Jasper surveyed him for a moment. ‘You are not drunk.’

  ‘Not even a little.’ Rohmann sat down and leaned on the table with his elbows. His eyes were sharp and probing. ‘An act, in case that shrewd bitch was watching from the window.’

  ‘Pardon me?’

  ‘Iris Phelps. The ears and eyes of Vienna. She knows everything. But if word of our meeting gets back to her, they will say I was drunk and making no sense.’ He pulled a hurt expression. ‘I do hope you realise, my dear man, how much I have to lose here. I’ve carefully restored my reputation and convinced people I’m no longer touching a drop, and then this.’ He clicked his tongue.

  Jasper eyed him. ‘You could have chosen a less dramatic way to contact me.’

  ‘How? You’re staying with Herziger. I don’t want him to know. Or his daughter. I had to pick you up someplace.’

  Jasper pursed his lips. He wondered if the shrewd reporter had been following him around. Did he know of his visit to the theatre? Of Violet’s undone condition as he had taken her home?

  Rohmann said, ‘And I’m especially wary of Iris Phelps as she is in league with Demain.’

  ‘Excuse me?’ Jasper said, thinking he had misheard this. Iris had just made it very clear to him that she despised Demain and the idea of a possible match between him and her protégée. He had even been thinking of her as the murderer, had it been Demain who had died.

  ‘They’re in league. They work together.’ Rohmann sounded impatient, as if this was an obvious point which Jasper should have detected long ago. ‘Phelps wants Demain to marry the girl so she can stay in the archaeological world.’

  ‘She, meaning the girl or Miss Phelps herself?’

  ‘Well, both of them of course as they’re about joined at the hip.’

  The waiter brought coffee with milky froth on top and delicious-looking apple cake. Jasper realised he was actually hungry. Especially for more information from this intriguing man. Picking up his fork, he said, ‘Go on.’

  ‘It has never been a secret that Iris Phelps is ambitious. I personally believe she wanted to marry Sir Peter. It was a setback to her when he went after Beate Herziger. Phelps was worried that after the marriage took place, Beate wouldn’t like a daughter around to share her husband’s affection with and she would persuade Sir Peter to leave Violet and the Phelps woman at home. To prevent herself from being cut off from all excitement, she set up with Demain to have him marry the girl so that she could still come on the expeditions.’

  Rohmann gestured at Jasper with his fork. ‘Clever bitch, hey.’

  ‘I think you should treat her with a little more respect.’

  Rohmann chuckled. ‘I do respect her, Jasper. I give her credit for her sharp mind. She understands women. Beate Herziger never liked Violet. Or the other way around. They are polite to each other of course but… Phelps had every reason to think Beate would cut off Violet as soon as she could.’

  Giving Violet yet another reason to kill her father and prevent this situation from materialising, Jasper thought.

  It seemed the things he learned strengthened the motivation Violet might have had for wanting her father dead and out of the way. Instead of sitting at home like a rejected tool, she would have been far away, free with Anton Müller.

  Only it hadn’t turned out that way.

  Rohmann said, ‘I do wonder though if Beate would have married him. You must have heard Sir Peter was rather fond of the ladies.’

  ‘I heard that, yes. What do you know of it? Not rumours, please, facts.’

  ‘Facts are hard to come by in such cases, as the parties involved tend to be discreet.’ Rohmann looked less amused now, almost serious.

  ‘Was he seeing Isobel Maurin, the singer?’ Jasper suggested.

  ‘She denied it. I’m not so sure.’ Rohmann dug into his cake with fervour.

  ‘And other names?’ Jasper wasn’t about to mention Anna Liebknecht himself in case he would start a fire he couldn’t put out again.

  ‘Are you thinking of a jealous husband as the killer?’ Rohmann shook his head. ‘No way.’ He leaned over closer. ‘Demain is your best bet.’

  ‘If you are not drunk, how did that alcohol stench get on your breath?’

  ‘I washed my mouth
with it. I spit it out again. What a waste. But all for the good cause.’

  ‘And what is the good cause? Incriminating Demain? Have you got anything against him?’

  ‘Yes. He used me.’

  Jasper had asked merely to keep the conversation going, not expecting an admittance. He stared. ‘You have something against him? Enough to accuse him of murder?’

  ‘I know for a fact he did it. Else he need not have set up the whole charade.’ Rohmann became animated again, waving his fork so wildly a raisin flew through the air. ‘Demain fed me the story.’

  ‘What story?’

  ‘Of the curse!’ Rohmann threw his fork with a clank on the plate. ‘Have you not been paying attention at all, man? There’s supposed to be a curse going around. First Karl Müller was killed at the dig, then Sir Peter is stabbed here. The mask is killing people who are violating its sacred heritage or something like that. I believed when Demain gave me information he was just being helpful and… Well, I wanted the story. But now I realise his plan. To have me write about the curse as cover for the murder he wanted to commit all along. He wanted to stab Sir Peter and came up with this curse to divert suspicion.’

  Like he came to me with the story about this letter he received threatening him without being able to show it as he had allegedly conveniently burned it.

  But I know that letter did exist. Anton Müller told me he sent it.

  On Violet’s behest.

  Jasper didn’t show what he was thinking, but continued to eat in silence.

  Rohmann said, ‘Who is the big winner after these two deaths? Demain. He is asked to lecture. He has fame. He can marry Violet. He has it all now and he might have killed to get it. Twice.’

  ‘We can’t prove what happened at the excavation site. It’s too long ago. And here… Jasper frowned. ‘Did you see Demain near the scene at the time of the murder?’

  ‘As a matter of fact I did.’ Rohmann smiled. ‘I had watched Sir Peter go into the room. I waited to see what he was doing there all alone. He was admiring the mask and even talking to it. Then Demain came in and started a fight with him. He must have killed him then.’

  According to Demain he had tried to convince Sir Peter they were both in danger. Sir Peter had laughed it off and Demain had left in anger.

  ‘Did you see Demain leave? Have you ascertained Sir Peter was dead?’

  ‘Unfortunately no.’ Rohmann hung his head. ‘An acquaintance called me away.’

  ‘That’s regrettable.’ Jasper couldn’t keep the irony out of his voice.

  ‘You don’t believe me? Look into Demain. He hated Karl Müller. He hated Sir Peter. He only used them to get to his ends, like he used me. He is your killer. You must look into it. You can’t let that poor girl Violet marry a killer.’

  She herself might be the killer. Jasper put his fork down. The apfelstrudel was delicious, but he didn’t want any more cake. He had to focus on this conversation while at the back of his mind he was already confronting Kurt Baum who had used him…

  Yes, he could fully understand Rohmann’s anger about Demain using him with the curse story. He felt that exact same way about the young psychology enthusiast. But that didn’t mean Demain was a killer. Or that Kurt Baum was a killer. He had to keep his thoughts rational and cool, collect evidence and connect clues.

  ‘What exactly did Demain tell you about this curse? To me he acted like he was afraid of it.’

  ‘Afraid? He doesn’t know the meaning of the word. He’s a unscrupulous man who would do anything, anything at all, to achieve name and fame as an archaeologist. He doesn’t have the knowledge Müller had or the charm Sir Peter could muster to open doors to museums and connections. He needed them but he looked down on them. He thought he was better even though he only supplied the money to pay for the costs of travelling and excavating.’

  Rohmann snorted. ‘I wasn’t about to correct him. Vain people are easy to play. I told him that just by reading the reports about the excavation, I had known he was the real genius behind it all. He smiled broadly and said he had even told Müller where to dig for the mask.’

  ‘Did he give Müller instructions more often?’ Jasper asked. Like where to dig on the day he had been accidentally buried?

  Rohmann shrugged. ‘He claimed he did but I can’t tell if it was true of course. You’d have to ask people who have been actually there. All I know is that Demain wasn’t very sorry to see Müller leave the scene in a coffin. It gave him a good story to tell on his lectures.’

  ‘He spoke about Müller’s death? To me he acted like it was a subject best left untouched.’

  ‘He didn’t mention him by name but he alluded to the difficult circumstances, the veil of doom the expedition had been under. Big words to impress his eager audience.’ Rohmann shook his head. ‘Perhaps you should attend one of his lectures to hear him speak and judge for yourself.’

  ‘That might be an excellent idea.’ Jasper finished his coffee. ‘Is there any more you can tell me about the players in this drama?’

  Rohmann seemed to want to say something. He took a deep breath as if steeling himself. Then he exhaled and shook his head. ‘Nothing.’

  Jasper rose. ‘Thank you for introducing me to this excellent coffee and apfelstrudel but I have more to do.’

  Rohmann looked overtaken. ‘But… what are you going to do about Demain? You must accuse him somehow, bring the police to suspect him. I didn’t invite you over here for nothing. I just told you how I risked—’

  ‘I appreciate it.’ Jasper walked away. He had a niggling feeling Rohmann had acted with a clear purpose in mind. Just incriminating Demain or more?

  Did he have another connection to the case?

  If so, what was that?

  Chapter Sixteen

  Kurt Baum sat in his study, leafing through a French publication on dreams, when the door burst open and a man appeared on the threshold, followed by an apologetic servant who said something about not being able to retain him. The man barged into the room and halted in front of Baum’s desk. ‘You lied to me.’

  ‘Ah, former inspector Jasper.’ Baum gestured at his servant. ‘In Ordnung.’

  The servant looked doubtful but retreated closing the door.

  Baum smiled at his unexpected guest. ‘What exactly have I lied about? I told you I research the relationship between psychology and crime. And I do.’

  ‘You didn’t mention you have a personal connection to the case.’

  Baum hitched a brow. ‘Meaning?’

  ‘You are the therapist of the victim’s daughter.’

  Baum tutted. ‘You must learn to express yourself more accurately, Jasper. This statement is far too general. I am not her therapist as I hadn’t started treating her yet.’

  ‘Don’t play word games with me.’ Jasper’s eyes sparked at him. ‘You tried to gain my trust with half-truths and now—’

  ‘I’m glad you have already changed ‘lies’ to ‘half-truths’.’ Baum pointed at the straight-backed chair Jasper was standing beside. ‘Do sit down so we can talk about it.’ He folded his hands in front of him across the publication he had been reading. ‘You must understand that I’ve never actually treated Violet Treemore. Her father had asked me whether I would take an interest in her case—’

  ‘You call it a case. So you believed there was something wrong with her?’

  Baum’s eyes narrowed. What exactly did Jasper want to know? How dangerous would it be to tell him a few things? He would have to appear willing to cooperate or Jasper might become suspicious.

  He smiled. ‘The expression “something wrong with her” suggests that there is also something like right. I mean, normality versus abnormality. But we’ve only just begun to dig into the deepest recesses of the human mind. We can’t tell what is normal. There might be a lot of people like her.’

  ‘You told me that you were investigating the relationship between psychology and crime. Do you think Violet Treemore has criminal tendencies?’

&
nbsp; ‘What a direct question. I hadn’t expected you to show your hand to me quite so clearly.’

  Jasper leaned back and stared at him. ‘You are the expert in this matter. I’m consulting you.’

  ‘You stormed in here claiming I had lied to you. Now you trust me enough to consult me?’ Baum was certain something was off here and Jasper had an ulterior motive. If he played this well, he might gain access to information he didn’t have yet.

  Jasper shrugged. ‘You say you had not treated her yet. Perhaps you didn’t think it important enough to mention to me when we spoke outside the museum.’

  ‘I’m not at liberty to divulge information about the patients I work with or am about to work with. The family of those in need, who seek my assistance, are very particular about that. You see, needing help with the mind is still seen as something irregular. But I believe it will become more accepted. Because the mind is a part of the human being and it must be treated well. Not everyone knows how to treat his own mind.’

  Jasper seemed confused and Baum was happy to explain further. ‘You see, people tend to accept only a certain way of life as acceptable, as a standard for all. They measure the others by this standard. And when one doesn’t conform, one feels… excluded and alone. But I want to show my patients that there are many ways in which the human mind forms from birth, because of experiences and trauma, and that one can help the mind by acknowledging its structure and supporting the ways it has found to express itself.’

  Baum was now really getting into his argument and leaned forward supporting his hands on his desk. ‘Violet Treemore is a very interesting case. You see, her mind suffered several traumas on top of one another and it adjusted in the only way it saw how. By venting in the night. Dreams are the mind’s way of letting off steam. Her vivid imaginings keep her mind from getting overwrought. Instead of being afraid of them, she should encourage them, embrace them.’

  ‘You were going to teach her how to embrace her dreams?’ Jasper sounded slightly cynical.

  ‘As a practical man this might sound odd to you. How do you value your own dreams, Herr Jasper? Do you think they are important? Or just meaningless images in the night?’