An Exhibition of Murder

by An Exhibition of Murder (retail) (epub)

  ‘Because then you would have wanted to see the book or even take it with you, and I wanted to keep it. It’s such a fascinating source. Imagine yourself believing that psychology can help explain the criminal mind, and fate puts in your hand the deepest musings of such a criminal mind. Would you refuse that opportunity? I think not.’

  Jasper frowned as he had trouble to follow along. ‘Violet’s dream book records the musings of a criminal mind?’

  ‘Not conscious musings of course. She hasn’t written down: ‘I want to kill my father’. But all the indications are there. The recurrence of blood in her dreams. Cries for help from people already dead. Her belief she must do something about it. Her meetings with someone just denoted as A who walks away from her and she can’t reach him anymore. This book…’ He lifted the parcel. ‘Speaks of guilt, regret and despair and also of a deep determination to do it again. To do the unspeakable, to gain what she cannot otherwise attain. Happiness for herself.’

  He took a deep breath. ‘This book should be published as an example of how the criminal mind works. Inside a beautiful young woman. It would be a sensation. My reputation would be established. The entire world would want to hear my story. I could travel far and wide to talk about it. I’d be more famous than Freud.’

  Jasper watched him, watched the parcel in his hand. Could he jump him and take it? There was no way he was going to let this vain, self-centred young man exploit Violet Treemore’s dreams entrusted to paper for her healing.

  But Baum seemed to lose some of his elation. ‘I realised, however, that I cannot publish it. It would be a violation of the sacred bond between a patient and the therapist. I cannot publish it unless she agreed to it or she was on trial and it became a news source.’

  Jasper wanted to grab him and shake him and tell him to stop talking like this, but he waited.

  Kurt Baum said, ‘I’m willing to work with you to prove that Violet Treemore murdered her father. You will have your suspect and your successfully concluded case, and I will have my publication.’

  Jasper bit back the words that he would never agree to having the dream book published, but he considered he might get further by acting like he was open to discussion. ‘I don’t really see how you intend to prove that Violet Treemore murdered her father. The police have more and more evidence that the burglar did it. Fingerprints and all.’

  ‘On the window. But there are prints on the mask that have not yet been identified. What if they are hers? What if she placed the mask on his face to show he was a king, her father-king, the man ruling and ruining her life?’

  ‘I don’t follow.’

  ‘All children rebel against their parents at some point.’ Baum was warming to the topic and waved his free hand. ‘They drink alcohol, gamble money away, see someone their mother disapproves of. It’s innocent. There are, however, also cases of a serious rebellion, even ending in the need to remove the parent from their lives completely. They may go abroad. Or kill.’

  Jasper couldn’t deny that he had worked on cases where children had killed their parents for various reasons, but he didn’t say so. ‘I need more than just a general theory.’

  Baum held up the parcel. ‘This will give it to you. All of her dreams written down over weeks. It’s so telling if you know what to look for.’ He put it back in his lap. ‘I’m willing to let you read it. But we have to have an understanding. I get the credit for having solved this case through psychology.’

  ‘I can’t make you that promise, as I don’t know if Violet is guilty.’

  ‘Come, come. Are you under her spell as well? Of course she is guilty. She wanted her father dead so she would be free. She even had an accomplice in this person called A.’

  Jasper couldn’t deny it seemed she and Anton Müller had conspired to instil fear in people, and it had worked out in a terrible way. But had it been a plan to murder? Who had delivered the fatal stab?

  Anton, who had been seen by the cat burglar?

  Or Violet, who might have been with him?

  Had Anton shown himself to Sir Peter to reason with him and had Sir Peter laughed at him like he had laughed at Demain? Had Violet lost her temper and killed her own father?

  Baum said, ‘You are very quiet, Inspector. Are you considering the validity of my statements? I tell you I know for certain that this girl’s dreams give her away. Even her own father thought so. That’s why he hired me. And that’s why I know she killed him. Because he was onto her.’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  Baum sighed. ‘I told you before that I’ve been to the house and he explained to me what he wanted me to achieve with this therapy. I haven’t told you all about that conversation.’

  Jasper rolled his eyes. ‘There seems to be a lot which you kept from me. Why should I trust you?’

  ‘Because you need me to solve your case.’ Baum leaned on the table, his eyes glittering. ‘You need me to deliver the murderess into your hands. Once you’ve read the book, you’ll be as convinced of her guilt as I am. And then we can set up a trap for her. I’ll invite her to my study to speak about her trauma and her father’s murder. She will confess to me and I’ll make a recording of her confession.’

  Jasper raised a hand to stop his explanation of this wild plan. ‘You said her father told you what he really wanted out of this therapy. What was that? Surely not to have her confess his murder to you. He didn’t even know he was going to get killed.’

  ‘No. But he wanted to know what had happened all those years ago. At his estate. In the chapel.’

  A chill went down Jasper’s spine. ‘With Jane.’

  ‘Exactly. He had always believed it was an accident. That the little girl had hidden to play hide and seek, and that she had been caught and called for help, but the rescue had gone horribly wrong. But why would Violet keep blaming herself for Jane’s death? She was just a small child at the time, unable to realise the consequences of her actions. No one blamed her for it, but she herself. Her father began to wonder if there was a reason for it. Something he didn’t know.’

  ‘Like what?’ Jasper gave Baum a sharp look. ‘Did he mention something specific?’

  ‘No. But I can speculate. We assume that Violet was caught in the chapel and Jane came in response to her cries for help. But what if Violet was hiding herself to give Jane a scare when she came looking for her to take her in for tea? Quite innocently, like children at that age act without realising the consequences. Then the unstable structure collapsed and Violet somehow knew she had done something very wrong. Recently the accident at the dig intensified her dreams and her obsessions.’ Baum was silent a moment. ‘Then her father hired me to speak to her. He explained to me that he wanted to know the truth about the death of this maid Jane at the chapel on his estate. What if Violet realised that she was about to be exposed as having somehow caused the girl’s death, even if it hadn’t been intentional? She’s not four years old anymore, and she might have blamed herself harshly for what was just a whim at the time. What if she killed her father to keep him from ever finding out what she had done?’

  ‘I can’t imagine Sir Peter would have wanted to prove his daughter had caused a servant’s death. He must have believed he could prove the exact opposite. That she was totally innocent of it and had been blaming herself for nothing.’

  ‘I can’t be sure of that. He told me no more than what I am telling you now. But I do know this: people who are highly emotional might feel threatened when they believe a loved one is turning against them. Violet may have believed her father wanted to harm her and she killed him for that reason, placing the mask across his face to imply it had something to do with his death. I strongly believe the fingerprints on it are hers. If I get a confession, the police will want to test this and the evidence will be undeniable. You must help me get to this point.’

  Jasper sat in silence. He didn’t want to work with this young man who had lied to him, used him and seemed almost as manipulative as some of the people he claimed
to help.

  But on the other hand, he didn’t want to pass up on a chance to read the dream book and see for himself how troubled Violet really was. His dislike of other people, and his initial like of her, should not cloud his judgement.

  ‘Let me read the book and I’ll tell you what I think, from my experience as a policeman.’ He rose and extended his hand.

  Baum watched him through narrowed eyes. ‘Can I trust you? Will you destroy it, if you think it can save her? I feel like you are a little in love with her.’

  Jasper was at Baum in two steps and grabbed the parcel from his lap. ‘Thank you. You said you had little time?’ He nodded at the door.

  Baum laughed shortly. ‘You think you’re in charge, Jasper, and all the puppets are dancing to your tune. But you’re so wrong. You have no idea how dangerous they can be. I would watch my back if I were you. You could be the killer’s next target.’

  * * *

  Jasper lay in bed and slept. His body was heavy but his mind was conscious of something not completely right. A sound. Outside the room?

  He opened his eyes. It wasn’t completely dark and he could see the door. The knob turned slowly. He stared at it in fascination, unable to move and reach for the light switch. The door opened.

  On the threshold Violet stood, with a knife in her hand. Her expression was blank as it had been when her companion had led her away from Beate Herziger. She came into the room with slow mechanical steps.

  Jasper wanted to say something but his tongue was pasted to his palate. He watched her come closer, closer, with the knife in her hand. He wanted to roll himself off the bed onto the floor on the other side, but a weight on his chest pinned him to the bed.

  Why was Red not barking? Why was he not attacking the intruder?

  Because he knew her?

  Because he trusted her?

  Baum had been right. A fatal mistake.

  Violet raised the knife and stabbed at him.

  With a scream Jasper awoke. His eyes were open and the room was in pitch black darkness. He couldn’t see the door. The weight on his chest was still there though. Something warm and wet touched his hand. Red’s nose. Then his tongue licked his hand. He moved it and patted the dog. ‘Just a nightmare, old boy.’ He felt on his chest. There was something there. A solid square thing. The book. The dream book.

  He had been reading it when his eyes had become very heavy. He had switched off the light and fallen into sleep before being able to put the book into bed with him as he had planned. He didn’t want to put it anywhere where it could vanish. It was too precious.

  Although its contents were gruesome.

  He turned on the light and sat up against the pillows. Just looking at the door knob made his heart rate shoot up. But it had been a dream caused by reading the imaginings of Violet Treemore’s mind.

  He wasn’t surprised that Baum took her dream book as proof she was capable of killing. Her dreams had a decidedly violent nature. But then she had been plagued by guilt since childhood.

  If his thoughts about her being a killer could cause a dream where she appeared at his bedside with a knife in her hand, couldn’t her thoughts about being guilty have caused these dreams in which she couldn’t help people or even actively caused them harm?

  Yes, he decided, it was very well possible. Over time, as she focused on the dreams, and then even had to write them all down, it had become worse. Her mind had become entangled in the same thoughts and images over and over again. Like a memory repeated to keep it alive.

  But it was no memory. It was a projected memory. A supposed guilt. A regret over something she had not actually done.

  At least he thought so.

  He wanted her to be innocent.

  If he, a grown man used to violence, could be spooked by a nightmare, it had to be much worse for a child. He had to feel sorry for her.

  Jasper sighed and put the book under his pillow. He reached for the glass of water on his bedside table and took a sip. The cool water flowed through his throat, calming his racing thoughts.

  Still he couldn’t deny Violet had done odd things: her contact with Anton Müller; the letter written to Demain at her bequest; an identical letter ending up with her father. But Anton denied having sent it. Then who had sent it? And why?

  If only Violet and Anton had known about the message sent to Demain, no one else could have sent a letter to Treemore with the exact same wording but either of them. Was Anton Müller coldly using Violet? Had he sensed her volatile nature and made her the tool of his revenge on Treemore?

  It would be a truly heartless act, but then men who were driven by a single desire could be heartless.

  Red stood against the bed, watching him with a questioning look as if to make sure he was all right. He cuddled the dog for a moment and then told him to lie down again. ‘We need to sleep, old boy, clear the mind for a new day. I feel like we have never had such a complicated case before. What is dream, what reality? What truth, what illusion?’

  Illusion.

  Yes, he really had to speak to Anton Müller again.

  This time without Violet present.

  * * *

  Anton was taking notes in his book, his idea book for new tricks and illusions, when that impertinent inspector walked up to him again. The irritation he felt he quickly hid behind a smile. ‘Good morning. You’re again up and about early.’

  ‘I had some telegrams to send. How are you?’ The inspector’s eyes surveyed him as if wanting to see right through him. ‘I suppose Violet’s condition is causing you sleepless nights.’

  ‘Her condition? You make it sound like she is ill. She’s just upset because her father died. But that will pass.’

  ‘You don’t seem overly affected by his death.’

  ‘I hardly knew him and had no reason to like him.’ Anton clenched the pencil he had been scribbling with. ‘We’ve covered this ground before, I believe.’

  ‘I’ll be very frank with you.’ Jasper was watching him with an intense searching look. ‘Violet is in great danger. She was about to enter therapy with a man her father selected. He wanted him to find out how stable or unstable Violet might be. To assess this, she was asked to write down her dreams. I’ve read the reports. And I was shocked. I, a man of my experience.’

  Jasper sounded slightly hoarse as if becoming emotional. ‘I can’t deny that these images are very violent for a young woman of her limited life experience.’

  ‘I wouldn’t call it limited. She’s been to faraway places I’ve never heard of. She’s travelled and seen the world. And she’s seen death up close. Not by choice but because it was forced upon her. It made a deep impression. A lasting impression. I can’t see how it wouldn’t.’

  Jasper nodded. ‘Perhaps. But I must dig deeper and find the absolute truth. For her sake. You wouldn’t want people to whisper about the woman you love that she is not… well in her head. That she is perhaps dangerous? You must want her name to be cleared from all suspicion as soon as possible, so you may be together. After all, your father died on that dig.’

  Anton blinked. ‘I don’t see what my father’s death has to do with it.’

  ‘Violet dreams of someone being buried and calling for her help. Her help. Why her? She wasn’t present when he got covered with dirt and debris. Or perhaps she was?’

  ‘You dare say she might have killed my father?’

  ‘I’m asking you if you will help me clear her of that exact suspicion.’

  Anton was torn. What was the best thing to do? He could hardly say he didn’t want to clear her of suspicion, but working with the inspector might entail more risks than advantages. He wet his lips.

  Jasper said, ‘You must know something about that expedition. Tell me what you know.’

  ‘I know nothing. That is it. My father had already broken off contact with me. I know nothing but that he died.’

  ‘Come, come. You arrive here; you write a letter accusing people of murder. You must know more than just t
hat he died.’

  Anton sat with his head down. Play the ace or keep it in his pocket?

  He took a deep breath. Play.

  He looked up. ‘I know that… before he died, he suspected someone of being a danger to Sir Peter.’

  Jasper blinked. ‘How do you know that? And who would that be?’

  Anton waited a moment. The inspector burned with curiosity and he wanted to stretch the suspense like he did with his audience. Make them believe it wouldn’t work and then bam, it did. They gasped; they cheered; they loved him.

  They loved him while his father never had.

  Anton clenched his jaw. He opened his idea book in the back and took out the dirty crumbled piece of paper. ‘Here it is. After my father died, his things were gathered and returned to England. Because I am his only living relative, part of it, papers et cetera, was passed on to me, even though they knew he had disinherited me. Nothing of value, just mementos they thought I might want to have. This piece of paper was among them. It is part of a letter he wrote. It says…’ Anton lowered his head over the paper to see better. ‘“She will ultimately destroy him. But he is too blind to see it, the fool.”’

  ‘That is all?’ Jasper leaned back his weight. ‘That is hardly anything.’

  ‘My father was on the tracks of a woman endangering Sir Peter. I’ve thought long and hard about it and it must be Beate Herziger. She visited the dig with her father. She was getting engaged to him. My father must have known the match was ill fated.’

  ‘Your father can also have meant Violet.’ Jasper sounded almost weary as he pointed it out.

  ‘Perhaps. But you must think about Beate Herziger. Did you see her among the crowd at the opening while her father held his speech? He must have practised it at home. She knew how long it was. She could time her departure, the murder and her return. She must have killed him because he was deceiving her. The whole of Vienna knows he was under the spell of that French singer Isobel Maurin.’