An Exhibition of Murder

by An Exhibition of Murder (retail) (epub)

  ‘I’ve never really given it any thought.’ It sounded dismissive.

  Baum smiled. ‘That is how most people think. “I have never given it any thought so it must be unimportant.” But your dreams might also be an expression of your mind, your inner being. For all of your life you hunted criminals. You saw dead bodies and you heard confessions of brutal crimes. Your mind must have suffered from exposure to so much evil. It must have looked for a way to deal with this.’

  * * *

  Jasper blinked. Yes, he had known his work was taxing and sometimes he had felt extremely tired and even doubtful whether he really wanted to keep doing it. But a good night’s sleep had always revived his spirits and… A good night’s sleep as in a rest for his body, his tired muscles or aching back. But had the night also revived him because of dreams he had had? The way of his mind to deal with his profession?

  He almost shook his head at this preposterous idea. Still, he could recall several occasions where he had had especially pleasant restful dreams about walking in Cornwall or being back at his grandparents’ house where he had spent long childhood summers, and how restorative those images had been. Like a long hot soak in the tub for his mind.

  Baum studied him. ‘I see you are not immediately waving it off but considering it.’

  ‘I want to know about Violet Treemore.’

  ‘Yes, of course. I talked to her father at his house. He explained to me what he had in mind.’

  ‘Did he expect you to be able to stop the dreams?’

  ‘No. Why would you think that?’

  ‘I got the impression the dreams are a sort of mental torture for her.’

  ‘Not at all. Sir Peter believed – and I think he was very insightful to believe so – that her dreams told of some truth. That they could reveal things. About the past.’

  Jasper sat up straight. His heart beat faster. ‘What exactly did he want to know about the past?’

  Baum frowned. ‘I don’t know if I am at liberty to tell you. Sir Peter is no longer alive, it’s doubtful whether I will start treating Violet Treemore now and—’

  ‘Why is that doubtful?’

  ‘Because that companion of hers will prevent it. She’s so worried I will discover something terrible about her charge.’

  ‘You mean Iris Phelps?’

  Baum nodded. ‘She’s overprotective of the girl. She believes she must keep her away from everything, even from the inner workings of her own mind. As if one can be protected from oneself. That is what one has to live with.’

  He moved some things around on his desk. ‘No, I doubt I will now have a chance to treat Violet. That is truly regrettable. In fact, I believe this woman is a bad influence in her life. She’s sheltering her far too much.’

  ‘So you might have advised her to step away from Miss Phelps?’ Jasper wondered if Baum really hadn’t met Violet and given her this advice. Would it not fit perfectly with her sudden choices? Her support of Anton Müller, her plans to elope with him? Why else would a young woman who had always done her family’s bidding suddenly rebel?

  But Baum was a wily man who wouldn’t tell him everything he knew. In fact, Jasper suspected him of telling only exactly that which he wished him to know.

  Baum said, ‘I would have analysed her dreams to see what they spoke of.’

  ‘Did Sir Peter tell you about the contents of her dreams? He asked his daughter to keep a dream book in which she had to write down all of her dreams. Did you see this book?’

  ‘No.’ Baum closed a book he had on the desk and rose to return it to the shelf. ‘Regrettable, as it might have been very telling.’

  ‘He didn’t show you the book while you were at his house?’

  ‘No.’

  Jasper wasn’t sure if Baum was telling the truth. He wanted to explain to him how important this was, but that would mean giving him a lot of information he might use to his own ends. That would be dangerous, for Violet, for Anton Müller. Jasper took a deep breath. ‘Do you have any idea where the dream book is now?’

  ‘No.’ Baum turned to him, still standing at his bookcase. ‘Does she not have it?’

  ‘Apparently not.’ Jasper tried to read something in the other’s expression. ‘You are certain it is not here?’

  ‘No.’ Baum came back to the desk and seated himself. ‘I can’t give it to you, Inspector. Even if I had it, I would not. It is really none of your business what is written inside.’

  ‘Violet asked me to help her.’

  ‘Violet asked you to protect her father and he died. You failed her. She doesn’t trust you anymore.’

  ‘Is that what she told you? You did see her. You are treating her.’

  ‘I’m not treating her.’ Baum looked at his watch. ‘I really don’t have much time for this conversation.’

  ‘Give me your expert opinion on Sir Peter Treemore. His personality.’

  This sudden turn in the conversation seemed to take Baum by surprise. He blinked and then flushed as if he was pleased at this chance to show off his knowledge. ‘Well, he was a vain man. Made more of his accomplishments than was warranted. He believed he was destined for something even greater. In fact, he wanted to be king.’

  ‘King?’ Jasper repeated thinking of the golden mask of death placed over the deceased’s face. Like he was one of those kings of old.

  ‘I think it can all be traced back to his birth. You see, Sir Peter told me that he was one half of a set of twins. He was meant to be the half of a whole. But the other twin died during the birth and then Sir Peter was alone. He explained to me he had always felt this need to live two lives and compensate for the girl that was no longer there. To put it bluntly, in my own words: he took her place, he became twice as big. He had to puff himself up and gain importance to fill two people’s shoes. The strain of this constant exertion pushed him to excesses to counterbalance. His interest in women, in daring exploits that were always just a little riskier than what others undertook. He was a man who liked to live on the edge. He was clever and calculating in many ways, but in others he was very naïve; he threw himself into matters without too much forethought. I didn’t tell him all that, of course; he wasn’t consulting me about himself after all. But to my mind his situation was very clear.’

  ‘Would it have been easy to manipulate him?’

  ‘With the right inducements, certainly.’

  Jasper nodded slowly. He had to take a closer look at Isobel Maurin, the beautiful singer in her golden dress who had been present at the opening. He still wasn’t sure what her relationship with Treemore had amounted to or how it might have affected Beate Herziger and the other players in the drama.

  ‘Sir Peter was a troubled man,’ Baum said. ‘He didn’t care much for other people as he was foremost interested in his own well-being. You could say he had put himself on a pedestal and didn’t allow others to come near him. But he did love his daughter. He was very concerned for her, in his own way. He wanted her to be happy, but he feared she might never be.’

  ‘Because of the past?’ Jasper asked softly.

  ‘And the present and the future.’ Baum stared into the distance. ‘There were threats to Violet from all sides.’

  ‘And he hired you to eliminate those.’

  ‘You asked before whether I was hired to stop the dreams. No, Inspector. I had to let them come and see what they were really telling her. Telling us.’ Baum held his gaze. ‘Sir Peter wanted to know the truth about his daughter. I wonder if he found it right before he died.’

  * * *

  Jasper was still thinking of these enigmatic words as he sat in a plush seat at a gentlemen’s club listening to Erneste Demain’s lecture about the golden mask of death, its spectacular recovery and the rumours attached to it.

  There was a marked difference between the nervous man who had visited him to share the worries about his safety, and this self-confident archaeologist standing in the centre of the room, holding all eyes on him as he spoke of ancient people, go
ld treasure, betrayal, love and death.

  Jasper had to admit Demain was a gifted speaker and kept the audience enthralled. But was Jasper the only one here who thought it odd this man was giving a lecture about the mask that had been found on his partner’s dead body, before that partner had even been properly buried? It seemed so inappropriate.

  But no one here gave any sign of recalling the murder as they listened to the story while sipping from their cognacs and smoking their expensive cigars.

  At last, Demain was done and a thunderous applause enveloped him. He smiled to all sides, took bows and gestured at them to stop, but beamed even more when the applause intensified.

  Jasper also rose and clapped, hoping Demain would spot him. He wanted to see his reaction to the realisation a former policeman had come to hear him.

  The very one to whom he had confessed how he feared for his life.

  Demain’s eye fell on him and he stiffened. His high colour faded and he seemed to stagger a moment. The applause rolled away and people began to move about the room to shake his hand and talk to each other about what they had just heard. Jasper closed in on Demain. He seemed to be recovering a bit from the shock of seeing the former inspector among the crowd, smiling feebly as he pressed eager hands and muttered words about being delighted to be here.

  Jasper also shook his hand. ‘You are fortunate to be here,’ he said softly. ‘As both of your partners are dead. Do you think the mask will let you live? Because you sing its glory?’

  Demain eyed him coldly. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. The mask is an object of art, old and revered, but it is not sentient. It doesn’t decide things, certainly not people’s fate. Nobody died because of the mask.’

  ‘I wouldn’t say that too loud.’ Jasper leaned close to him and whispered in his ear, ‘I know you spread the curse story to Rupert Rohmann. Why else but to have a reason for Treemore’s death in place before he actually died? It makes you very suspicious. And I have the ear of Inspector Marktherr.’

  The latter statement was a gross exaggeration as he hadn’t seen Marktherr since they had met at the museum, and he doubted that the Viennese policeman would welcome his interference. In fact, he hoped that Marktherr had no idea of what Jasper was doing and that he could reach some breakthrough before the Austrian inspector would come to tell him he was in his way and should stop his meddling.

  Demain turned pale again. ‘I can’t speak with you now,’ he hissed. ‘Meet me after the drinks. I will then tell you what I know.’

  Jasper nodded and moved on, starting a conversation with a fellow Englishman who wanted to know if he had already been to the Spanish Riding School at the Hofburg. Jasper had to disappoint him and listen to an endless story about why it was impossible to leave Vienna without having seen the famous Lipizzaner horses and their riders. He nodded his polite agreement while all the while keeping an eye on Demain to prevent him from sneaking away without the promised revelation about what he knew.

  Jasper wondered what it might be. It couldn’t be much, as earlier Demain had acted like he knew nothing about Sir Peter’s death but he was now afraid he would be next. Had he lied then? Why?

  Demain could hardly tear himself away from all of those who wanted to congratulate him and ask questions about the wondrous and intimidating mask, but at last he came over to Jasper and took him aside. They went into another room with hunting trophies on the wall, and Demain spoke softly, ‘Two people I worked with for years died for this mask. I need to keep its legacy alive. That is my destiny now.’

  Jasper couldn’t help the cynical laughter coming up inside of him. ‘You told me that the mask had nothing to do with Sir Peter’s death.’

  ‘It didn’t cause it by its evil influence. The mask itself is not a killer. But people change when they are confronted by such riches and… It is possible that the mask caused the deaths because it inspired greed.’

  ‘In whom? Do you have any idea who is behind these murders?’

  ‘Murders plural? So you’re certain Müller was killed as well?’ Demain asked with wide-open eyes.

  Jasper was getting a little tired of his act that he was so afraid, and decided to try a different tactic. ‘It must be convenient for you that Sir Peter is dead. Now you can marry his daughter.’

  Demain turned fiery red. ‘Where did you get that idea?’

  ‘Several people told me of your interest in her.’

  Demain spluttered, ‘I’ve never done anything unseemly…’ He straightened up. ‘I had her father’s full approval.’

  ‘Sir Peter wanted you to marry his daughter? But you told me you were hardly friends.’

  ‘He wanted a secure life for her and a man with an interest in his field. He knew me. He knew I was reliable.’

  ‘He also knew Violet didn’t feel attracted to you.’

  Demain’s jaw tightened. ‘Young women have this idiotic notion of romantic love. But her father and I knew that it was much better to make a match based on practical grounds. We agreed that after this whole thing with the mask was over I would propose marriage to her.’

  After she had been ‘treated’? Jasper wondered. Had Sir Peter wanted to know whether Violet was mentally stable so she could marry and possibly have children? How else could he explain Baum’s words that Sir Peter had wanted to get to know his daughter?

  And might he have come to know her right before he died, because he had looked into her eyes as she had come to him and stabbed him?

  Jasper forced his thoughts away from this unwelcome scenario. ‘Now that Sir Peter is no longer alive, will you still propose?’

  ‘Yes, after a suitable time of mourning has passed. She now needs me more than ever. She’s all alone in the world.’

  ‘She has her companion.’ Jasper eyed him sharply. Rohmann had said Demain and Iris Phelps were in league to get Violet married to the bachelor amateur archaeologist. ‘I thought Miss Phelps and you got along well?’

  ‘What is well? I tolerate her. She’s self-conscious and painfully controlling of Violet. Almost as if she was her mother.’

  ‘If Violet does marry you, would you keep Miss Phelps around?’

  ‘No, of course not, whatever for? My wife wouldn’t need a companion; she would have me.’

  ‘So if this marriage came about, Miss Phelps would be in the street looking for new employment?’

  ‘Which I doubt she’d find at her age.’ Demain grinned with a mean satisfaction.

  Jasper wondered if this was a motive for murder. Suppose Iris Phelps had known Sir Peter had agreed with Demain to give him his daughter’s hand in marriage right after the mask exhibition was all done with. And suppose she had also known or in any case guessed that Demain wouldn’t want her around. Then she would have had every reason to prevent the marriage from taking place.

  But wouldn’t she have killed Demain rather than Treemore?

  Unless of course she believed that with Demain dead, Treemore would find another suitable husband for his daughter and she’d suffer the same fate. Then she might have believed that by killing Treemore she could bind Violet to her as they would be left together in the world. She could have assumed she could influence the girl easily.

  It could fit.

  Demain said, ‘Violet is not as fond of Miss Phelps either. I know the two of them act like they are thick as thieves but that is only when there are other people around. During expeditions I’ve frequently overheard them quarrelling. Violet would get angry over a little thing and kick her companion or pinch her arm. Later she would feel sorry and give her gifts. I know for a fact that she gave a valuable emerald brooch to Miss Phelps to make up for having hurt her, and then later lied to her father that she had lost it on the dig. Violet is a clever liar, if she wants to.’

  ‘Still you consider marrying her.’ Jasper hitched a brow. ‘Are you not worried she will lie to you as well?’

  ‘I will make sure she doesn’t.’ Demain said it in a calm tone, but the way in which his hands formed into fists by
his side chilled Jasper’s blood. He had to make sure Violet didn’t marry this man.

  At the same time, he asked himself whether he was being hasty in his judgement, feeling this need to protect the young woman while he was learning more and more things about her that created a different image than he had first had: volatile, impulsive, manipulative.

  Perhaps even selfish and cruel? Hitting a servant and then offering her a valuable gift to ensure she kept her mouth shut about it?

  Was Violet an emotional and traumatised woman desperately searching for some happiness in her life? Or was she a cold and calculating creature who removed people she didn’t like from her life? People who didn’t do what she wanted.

  He didn’t know. But if he wanted to solve the case, he would have to find out.

  Chapter Seventeen

  When he came back to the Herziger residence, he found servants busy decorating the drawing room and groceries being delivered. When he asked what the occasion was, he was told with a reproving look for not knowing the meaning of the date, that it was Fräulein Beate’s birthday party tonight.

  Jasper could slap himself: he had forgotten all about it. He immediately went out again to buy her a present: a crystal bear cub he had seen in a window. With the wrapped gift in his pocket he came back to the house just as Herziger was stepping out of a cab. The museum director waved at him and closed in on him quickly. ‘Finally, we’re getting somewhere. The police have established that there are prints from this burglar the Lynx on the window of the room where Sir Peter was killed.’

  Logically, as the Lynx had been about to climb inside when he had seen the young man bent over the dead body.

  ‘They had his prints from a prior occasion. Sloppy on his part, perfect for us.’

  ‘Us?’ Jasper queried.

  ‘Yes, we can now prove it was that thief who stabbed Sir Peter to escape arrest. It had nothing to do with a curse on the mask. My museum can continue to attract visitors.’