An Exhibition of Murder

by An Exhibition of Murder (retail) (epub)

  ‘It didn’t seem like people were staying away before we knew this,’ Jasper said ironically.

  Herziger threw him an angry look as he stepped through his front door. He shouted at a footman to be careful with the glasses he was carrying and then said to Jasper, ‘The reputation of my museum may not be a great concern to you, but it is to me. It’s my life’s work.’

  Yes, Jasper thought. If there had been a breach with Sir Peter, a scandal surrounding a broken engagement for instance, it would have hurt the museum’s chances of exhibiting future discoveries. Herziger could hardly invite the man who had betrayed his daughter into his museum again. Had Herziger decided that it was better to honour a dead Sir Peter and avoid complications? Had he killed him to prevent a scandal surrounding his daughter and foremost his precious museum?

  Herziger put a hand on Jasper’s arm. ‘Let’s not quarrel. It’s my daughter’s birthday party. It’s not a big celebration as there has been a death of course. Just a few friends coming over to show their support. It’s important for Beate. She’s been so downcast. I want to see her smile again. Please go up to her to see how she is doing. She is in the music room.’

  Jasper nodded his assent and went upstairs. He heard piano music, not soft and melancholy but wild and almost out of tune. He went to the door and listened, then opened it a crack. Beate sat at the instrument working the keys with both hands, and with such fervour it shocked him. Her hair was half undone and her face was a mask of rage. She beat the chords out of the poor piano, like a sea of anger crashing against the walls of the room.

  Jasper entered and slammed the door. The sound didn’t even seem to reach her. She kept playing. The music was oddly intoxicating and he briefly wondered what Kurt Baum would make of this. Then he went to the piano, reached into his pocket and put the wrapped present on the edge.

  Beate stopped playing. Silence fell so suddenly it was almost disturbing. She gasped for breath. ‘You startled me.’

  He pointed at the present. ‘A small gift for you on your birthday. I’m sorry the new year has to start badly for you but I hope it will bring you luck as it progresses.’

  ‘I hope so too.’ She picked up the present and tore at the paper with the enthusiasm of a little girl. As the crystal bear cub rolled from the wrapping into the palm of her hand, a smile lit her features. ‘How sweet! Thank you so much.’ She jumped to her feet and kissed him on the cheek. ‘I’m so glad you are here. I wouldn’t have wanted to be alone with my father on this day when…’ She bit her lip.

  ‘I heard some of your close friends are coming to support you.’

  ‘Yes.’ She patted the bear cub with a fingertip. ‘They all pity me.’ It sounded a bit forlorn.

  ‘It’s normal to feel sorry for someone who lost the man she was about to marry.’ Jasper leaned over. ‘I never offered you my condolences. Forgive me.’

  She looked up at him. ‘I wish it had at least been a heroic death. That he had died like that other man, in a tomb looking for treasure, rather than getting stabbed by a burglar who wanted to steal the golden mask. It’s such a petty way to die. It doesn’t befit him.’

  ‘I suppose one rarely has a choice in the manner of one’s death,’ Jasper replied automatically. He was surprised she also simply accepted the burglar theory. And she hadn’t even heard from her father yet that fingerprints had been found on the window. Why was she so certain? Just because she wanted to be, or to divert suspicion from herself?

  Or her father – did she think he had done it?

  Did Herziger think Beate had done it?

  Jasper said slowly, ‘I doubt the police can prove the burglar did it. What does an open window prove?’

  ‘Surely, no one would open a window in a room where valuable artefacts are on display. It being open means someone tried to get in. He killed Sir Peter.’

  ‘The police will be looking at other motives as well,’ Jasper persisted. ‘Enemies Sir Peter might have had?’

  ‘Enemies?’ Her eyes were wide and questioning. ‘He was a rather vain and silly man at times, but surely he had no enemies.’

  ‘How about the son of the man who died in the tomb, the death you just referred to?’

  ‘I didn’t even know Karl Müller had a son. Oh, yes, perhaps I did.’ She frowned hard. ‘He mentioned it to me once at the excavation site. That my father was fortunate to travel with me and that his son didn’t share his interests in artefacts. He went on to say he had even disinherited his son because he didn’t approve of his choices in life. I remember because it seemed such a drastic measure to me.’ Her eyes surveyed him with conviction. ‘I think you can safely cross this son off your suspect list.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘If my father had disinherited me, I would certainly not have dreamed of avenging his death.’

  Still Anton Müller had come to Vienna to contact Sir Peter and ask questions about his father’s death. He had even become so angry with the way in which Herziger had appropriated his father’s discovery in his speech that he had gone upstairs to steal the mask. On impulse, he had said. But what if it had been his plan all along? A plan for which he had used Violet?

  Or one they had made together…

  ‘Did your father receive a threatening letter?’ he asked Beate.

  ‘A what?’

  ‘A letter saying Karl Müller had been murdered and the murderer would pay.’

  ‘I don’t think so. But if he did, he wouldn’t have told me. I am merely a woman.’ Beate rose and paced the room, her hands folded behind her back.

  ‘And to Sir Peter? Would you have been merely a woman as well?’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘After you married, would you have had any influence with him at all?’

  A bitter look crossed her features. ‘I suppose not. But that’s our fate as women. My friends tell me repeatedly that their husbands don’t ever ask their opinion. They don’t even ask how their day was. One wonders why one would even want to get married.’

  ‘Why did you?’

  She eyed him. ‘Pardon me?’

  ‘Why did you want to marry? If you heard such negative stories about it from your friends.’

  ‘I had to. Being a spinster is even worse. Everybody talks about you behind your back, saying you aren’t beautiful or accomplished enough.’

  ‘So you had no choice but to marry Sir Peter? Despite his… vices.’

  ‘Vices?’ Beate forced a laugh. ‘Oh, I presume you didn’t think he was particularly likeable. But he wasn’t that bad. I’m sure we could have tolerated each other.’

  Jasper wanted to ask if she could also have tolerated his infidelity but that would be rude and distressing to her, especially while it was her birthday. He didn’t want to hurt her any more than she already was. Still, he had heard her tell her father she couldn’t cry for her fiancé’s death. Did that suggest she herself had driven the dagger into his heart?

  His treacherous heart.

  The door opened, and Herziger walked in. ‘Beate!’ He went to his daughter and kissed her on the cheek, surveyed her. ‘You look a bit better. Good girl. The guests will be coming soon. Come down with us to dinner.’

  Jasper watched as the museum director led his daughter from the room, her leaning heavily on his arm. They seemed close, in each other’s confidence. Had they set up the murder between them, determined to keep the other one safe if trouble arose?

  * * *

  Violet halted on the last step. ‘We can’t come here. My father is dead and… I can’t attend a party.’

  ‘It’s just a small gathering to support Beate. She can’t help it that your father died. If we don’t show our faces here, people will whisper that we blame the Herzigers. And we don’t.’ Iris rang the bell.

  Violet hissed at her, ‘I hate you for this. I’ll make you pay.’

  Iris didn’t flinch. She was used to these outbursts. The door opened and the butler let them in. A maid took their coats and they were shown into the d
rawing room where a small party was gathered. Beate sat in the centre on the sofa with her three ladies in waiting. Her father stood by the hearth with Jasper.

  Jasper’s gaze brushed hers a moment and Iris had the impression he wanted to ask her something. She ignored him and made the round with Violet to greet the others. She knew they didn’t think her on their level but that had never bothered her. She knew what she was worth. Violet needed her. More than she even realised.

  Once Violet sat with the other women and a slightly forced conversation had started, Iris walked to the hearth. Herziger had removed himself to speak with Anna Liebknecht’s husband and Jasper stood there alone. Iris halted by his side and pointed out a statue of a harlequin to him. ‘I love comedy. Don’t you? It’s good to be able to laugh at life.’

  Jasper studied her pensively. ‘I suppose so, especially in your position. You must endure a lot with a hot-tempered girl like Violet.’

  Iris shrugged. ‘I only had her to look after. Other nannies had several charges who put each other up to mischief. Violet was alone most of the time.’

  ‘Still, she worked herself into trouble. You told me about the chapel.’

  Iris froze and spied around them. ‘I shared that in confidence. It’s not a story that should get around.’ She asked even softer, ‘Have you spoken to Kurt Baum? Have you found out where the dream book is?’

  ‘No, he claims never to have seen it.’

  ‘How unfortunate.’ Iris wrung her hands. ‘I thought her father might have given it to him. I have no idea where it can be. It could be so damaging.’

  She sucked in breath. She had debated whether Jasper should know this. But it seemed inevitable. ‘There is one dream in it that had to do with the mask. She saw the mask and then blood began to run down across it, from the eye sockets. I never gave it any thought other than that the supposed curse was extremely trying on her nerves. Now I wonder…’

  Jasper eyed her. He asked in the same subdued tone she had adopted, ‘Do you think Violet capable of violence?’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘Do you think she could hurt someone, on purpose?’

  ‘What is hurt? She ran at you and beat you at the opening when she had found her father dead, but that is only natural in the circumstances. She wouldn’t in cold blood…’ She fell silent.

  Jasper eyed her. His inquisitive look seemed to probe into the very soul of her. ‘Do you think Violet might have hurt her father?’

  ‘No. Of course not.’ Her palms were clammy. ‘How can you suggest such a thing?’

  ‘Is it not logical of me to think in that direction? Her dreams, her hot temper, the deaths which already occurred around her.’

  ‘Her mother died when she was but two. Did she do that? Of course not. Jane died in a collapsing building. That wasn’t Violet’s conscious choice.’

  ‘But Violet went there without permission and she got caught and Jane had to free her, risking her own safety.’

  ‘She was four. How could she have known it would end that way? There’s a big difference, Inspector, between doing something silly which causes an accident and planning and executing a murder.’ She straightened up. ‘You of all people should know.’

  ‘I do know, Miss Phelps. But I wonder if you are blinded to who or what Violet really is.’

  Iris was confused. She hadn’t expected Jasper to see below Violet’s helpless exterior into her manipulative core. She had simply thought that he, like most men who got to know Violet, would be enchanted by her and believe everything she told them. It wasn’t even Violet’s intention to deceive people. That was simply the way she was.

  Jasper said, ‘I appreciate that you love Violet and are protective of her. But if she’s not well, we must allow her to get better.’

  ‘Who says she’s not well? Has that fraud Kurt Baum told you? He’s nothing but a pompous young man with ideas he borrowed from Freud, Jung and all those other great men.’ She couldn’t keep the scorn out of her voice. ‘He believes he can cure people but it isn’t right to delve too deeply into the secrets of the soul. There are things one ought not know.’

  ‘Is that your way of surviving?’ he asked with compassion lining his tone. ‘To tell yourself there are things you are better not knowing?’

  Iris shivered. She raised her arms to wrap her shoulders.

  A sharp cry resounded. ‘You little liar and cheat!’ Beate stood up, leaned over to her friend Anna Liebknecht and slapped her across the cheeks. ‘You seduced him. And you thought I didn’t know. How dare you even show your face here! How dare you!’

  * * *

  Anna shrieked and burst into tears, trying to huddle to escape Beate’s blows. Jasper felt his muscles tighten as he wanted to go forward and come between the women, but he was a guest here. It was not his place to act. Anna’s husband raced to her side and waved his arms to ward off the angry young woman.

  Herziger cried out, ‘Beate, please, compose yourself.’

  Beate struck Anna again, on the head.

  ‘Stop that.’ Liebknecht shoved Beate and she fell to the floor. She screamed in pain and fury. Herziger ran to Liebknecht. ‘Don’t hurt my daughter. Leave this house at once.’

  ‘I wouldn’t want to stay for another minute.’ Liebknecht straightened and put his arm around his wife who stood trembling by his side. ‘We’re leaving, my love. I will not let these people hurt and humiliate you.’

  ‘It’s true,’ Beate cried from her prone position on the floor. ‘Anna seduced Peter. She had an affair with him. I know. Ask her. She will have to confess.’

  Liebknecht led his wife away quickly.

  Lavinia LaRue knelt by Beate’s side. ‘Really, I know you are upset about Sir Peter’s death but you shouldn’t—’

  ‘If you don’t believe me, go away.’ Beate turned her head.

  Lavinia rose. ‘Very well. I don’t believe you and I won’t be shouted at.’ She left the room with her head held high.

  Nadja watched everything with wide-open eyes. A sort of eager fascination played across her features which Jasper found both intriguing and slightly disturbing.

  Beate now looked at her. ‘Do you believe me? If you don’t, there is the door.’

  Nadja clapped her hands to her face. ‘I have done nothing. How can you treat me like this?’ She burst into tears and ran from the room.

  Beate was left on the floor with her father standing a few feet away looking awkward as if he would rather leave as well.

  Violet who had kept aloof now walked over to Beate and knelt beside her. ‘I believe you. He was a worthless man. He didn’t deserve your love.’

  Beate stared at her in disbelief. Then both women hugged each other and cried.

  Jasper looked at Iris to see how she took this. Her expression was angry, a frown pressing over her eyes. ‘Silly girl,’ she hissed to Jasper. ‘Can’t she see Beate is just using her?’

  ‘Beate is using her?’

  ‘Of course. When Beate became engaged to Sir Peter, she made no secret of the fact that she didn’t want to be seen around with a grown stepdaughter and she would expect Violet to set up her own household soon. She didn’t want Violet near her. Now she acts like she is her best friend. Despicable.’

  Jasper watched the fury dance in Iris Phelps’s eyes. Had Beate’s decision to separate Sir Peter from his daughter driven Iris into taking action? Had she been so threatened by the idea that her travels to faraway places would be over and she would be reduced to a boring life with Violet, that she had killed Sir Peter?

  But he had been the man offering their entire life to them. Without him where could they go, what would they do? Yes, they had money, but would an expedition take along an unmarried young woman and her companion? Not likely.

  So Violet would have to marry anyway. Demain? Had he set things up with Iris? But Demain had seemed to hate Iris and want to dispose of her.

  None of this made sense.

  Iris said to Jasper, ‘Excuse me but it is time t
o go home.’ She went over to Violet and tapped her on the shoulder. ‘We are leaving.’

  ‘Please no,’ Beate said, looking up with tearstained eyes. ‘I need Violet. She’s such a comfort to me. She’s the only one who believes me, who knew Peter’s true heart.’

  ‘Violet should not exert herself,’ Iris said. She gripped the girl’s shoulder. ‘We are leaving.’

  Violet rose. Her expression, which had been full of conviction when she had declared to believe Beate, was now almost empty like she felt no emotions at all. With short jerky steps she walked to the door.

  Jasper watched her go with a mix of sympathy and unease. There was something decidedly troubled about this young lady.

  And something decidedly amiss with the police’s easy assumption her father had been killed by a burglary gone wrong.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The next morning Jasper sat at breakfast without any company. He had left Red in his bedroom, and the house’s inhabitants were not showing themselves. He could imagine Beate was ashamed of her behaviour from the previous night and her father wished to avoid a conversation about it. So he had to sample his eggs and bacon alone.

  The doorbell rang and he lifted his head a moment to listen who it might be. The dining room was adjacent to the front door and he might overhear something. But he could hear nothing, not even subdued voices, and he returned his attention to the fresh toast he was shovelling eggs on. The door opened and the butler announced, ‘Herr Kurt Baum to see you. It is urgent.’

  Jasper rose from the table and welcomed Baum, who walked in with a brown-paper-wrapped parcel in his hand. He was dressed in a long buttoned-up coat and looked very smart. ‘I don’t have much time. Do sit down again and eat. Although I doubt you will have much appetite left after what I have to tell you.’

  Baum pulled out a chair at the head of the table, Herziger’s place, and sat down. He rested the parcel on the table’s edge. ‘When you came to visit me, I lied. I do have the dream book.’

  Jasper hadn’t expected this outright confession. He stared at the self-proclaimed psychologist. ‘Why didn’t you say so?’