An idle threat of course. Marktherr didn’t want Jasper involved and didn’t believe his theories held any water. He was after the cat burglar, whom he would most likely never catch. The perfect outcome.
If only Jasper weren’t here.
* * *
Jasper sat in his chair fighting the urge to go after his friend and apologise for his rudeness. But he had a murder case at hand and Herziger was part of it, as were his daughter, her friends, Sir Peter’s partner… Too many people in Herziger’s circle.
He couldn’t tell him anything or he might influence the outcome of the experiment.
He returned to his notebook and stared at the last few notes he had made. He had received word from England about Jane Bell’s death in the chapel. She had indeed died of injuries sustained when part of the structure had collapsed on top of her. Of course, that didn’t tell him exactly what had happened. There had been no eye witnesses but the four-year-old girl. Violet Treemore.
And how much did she actually recall? How much had she added in her anguished belief she had been to blame? How much had been added by other people’s suggestions about her guilt? Remarks made right after the incident, or later, could have cut deep.
Jasper cast his eye again across the dates of significance in Sir Peter’s life. The twin born along with him had never even received a name. Died on the same day he assumed as no separate date had been entered. A sad start to a life which, if Baum was to be believed, had been shadowed by the knowledge he had to live for two people. His marriage, the death of his wife so soon after. They had been married for just six years. Jasper wondered briefly if even then Sir Peter already had a roving eye. Or had that come later as he had been alone, a widower who didn’t intend to remarry but still ached for companionship?
Why hadn’t he remarried anyway? The suggestion made by Iris Phelps that he had been focused on his daughter wasn’t completely satisfying. Lots of men remarried for the sake of their children, so they would have a family again. Why had Violet’s case been different?
Because she was mentally unstable, and he had been worried a new wife would discover this and demand action? Treatment, perhaps even away from home?
Had Sir Peter feared that a new wife would separate him from his daughter? Had he therefore waited until she was an adult able to make her own choices and forge her own path in life?
Jasper picked up the telegram confirming that Rupert Rohmann had been married to Isobel Maurin. They had divorced fourteen months ago. Rohmann had also been in the army. Jasper wondered if he still had a weapon from those days. And if he had the knowledge to kill quickly and swiftly, with a knife.
He put the telegrams in his notebook and rose. There was one person he still had to talk to before he would get everyone together. One person who might provide some answers to the last questions left on his mind.
* * *
Nadja Bruckner stepped out the dressmaker’s shop and cast a loving glance at the beautiful evening gown in the window. Soon she would own one just like it in her favourite colour, summer sky blue. She resisted the urge to dance a few paces and was about to hail a cab when a man came up to her and said, ‘Mrs. Bruckner? My name is Jasper. I’m staying with the Herzigers.’
She looked up at him recognising the sophisticated, quietly observant man who had been at the party where Beate had attacked Anna. ‘Yes, of course. How do you like Vienna?’
‘I would have liked it better if no one had been murdered. Can we walk a few streets to speak in private?’
‘If you want to know about the murder, I can’t tell you anything about it. I have a morbid fear of death.’ She crossed herself. ‘I want to go home.’
‘I’ll try not to upset you. But I must speak with you. Either here, now, or I’ll come to your home tonight.’
The implication was clear. Tonight, when your husband is at home. Nicolas would want to be there during the conversation and…
She forced a smile. ‘That is not necessary. I’ll walk with you. What do you want to know?’
‘Beate was very upset about the idea your mutual friend Anna Liebknecht was being rather friendly with her fiancé, Sir Peter Treemore. Did you know about this?’
‘No. When she attacked Anna, I understood what she thought but—’
‘You had no idea Beate thought this? Or about the affair between Anna and Sir Peter?’
‘Is it really true then? I ascribed it to her emotional state after the murder. Death is such a horrible thing.’ Her hand flicked up to cross herself again, but she didn’t want to overdo it and stalled it in the last instant, fidgeting with the ribbon of her hat instead.
Jasper smiled as if he had noticed. ‘I thought you knew about the affair, Mrs Bruckner.’
‘Why would I? Anna would certainly not tell me such things. Something so… scandalous.’
‘Would Anna also not tell you because she knew you wouldn’t keep it a secret but share it with others? Such as Beate Herziger?’
‘Of course not. I am discretion itself.’
Jasper laughed softly. The idea that he was ridiculing her made her blood boil. ‘I will hail a cab now, sir, and go home.’
‘I’m not done yet. I can still come tonight and discuss it in front of your husband. Your spending. Your debts. So suddenly paid off.’
Nadja felt a chill down her spine. The excitement about the new dress now turned into a weight in her stomach. How did he know? She had been so careful.
‘I wonder, Mrs Bruckner, who paid for those debts.’
‘It’s essential my husband doesn’t hear anything about this. He would beat me. Or ask for a divorce. We have children. You must spare me.’
She grabbed his arm and continued, ‘It’s not what my husband would think. I’m not having an affair with another man. My debts were paid in return for a service.’
‘A service?’ Jasper queried with a hitched brow.
‘Yes. I had to leak certain information to a certain party. I did. Then I received money to pay my debts.’ And some extra to buy new things like the summer sky dress she had just ordered. Her heart had been so light. And then this horrible man, who seemed to know all about it, had come up to her.
‘Let me guess. You had to leak to Beate Herziger – of course pretending you were so sorry you had to inform her of it – that her husband-to-be was betraying her with Anna Liebknecht. You revealed this to her before the opening. She knew.’
Nadja wet her lips. Her voice was hoarse when she confirmed, ‘Yes, she knew.’
‘And do you think she acted on it and killed Sir Peter?’
‘I don’t know. I told myself she would never be so stupid. Beate has always been a very sensible woman.’
‘Yes, but this was her chance, perhaps her only chance, to marry and have a family. Something she had ached for. You must have realised how—’
‘I thought I was helping her. No one wants to marry a man who betrays her. I was only saving her from heartache and humiliation later. She should have been grateful to me.’
‘Was she grateful to you, Mrs Bruckner, when you told her?’
‘She didn’t believe me. That was what she said. I don’t know…’ Nadja clenched her hands. It was easy to see the man beside her loathed her for what she had done. He knew she had received money to inform her friend of her fiancé’s infidelity, and could of course hardly believe it had been an act of kindness on her part. But it had been, really. There were limits to what she was willing to do for money.
‘I thought she would think about it and then start to believe me, that she would see I had only wanted to save her the embarrassment when it would eventually get out. Now she had a chance to break up with him of her own accord. She could find a reason. Proof of his betrayal even, perhaps. I didn’t know what she would do exactly.’
‘And it didn’t matter to you, as you had your money for your beautiful things.’ He sounded disgusted. ‘Who paid you to do this?’
He didn’t know. Good. She smiled to herself.
‘I don’t need to tell you. I don’t need to tell you anything. You shouldn’t blame me that Sir Peter died. He had many enemies. Besides, it was the thief, the police think. My husband heard it at the club. He told me.’
‘The police can think whatever they want. But I won’t let a murderer get away with what he did. I intend to find the truth.’
‘At all costs?’ She halted and looked up at him. ‘Why? Why harm people? Do damage to marriages—’
‘You didn’t think of that when you told Beate about Sir Peter and Anna Liebknecht.’
‘I wanted to help her. She is my friend.’
‘So is Anna Liebknecht.’ Jasper leaned over. ‘If you betray your friends so easily for money, what else might you be prepared to do?’
‘Very well.’ She straightened up. ‘It was Erneste Demain. He paid me to tell Beate about the affair.’
Jasper blinked. It amused her to see him confused. He had not expected that, apparently. ‘He wanted a breach between Sir Peter and Beate?’ Jasper asked slowly. ‘What on earth for?’
‘He wanted to marry Beate himself. He told me so. He said that after she had worked through her grief over losing Sir Peter in such a fashion, she would be all the more open to his offer of marriage.’
‘But if he wanted her, why didn’t he ask for her hand in marriage before? He had the chance. Sir Peter only recently showed any interest in her.’
‘Yes, and I bet it was only because he knew Demain was preparing to ask her. He was like that. A man who wanted to outwit others. That is why I say he had many enemies. You must find them all before you draw any conclusions.’ She clicked her tongue. ‘If you go too fast and accuse the wrong person, you will look like a fool.’
Jasper eyed her. ‘It was Erneste Demain who paid you?’
She nodded. ‘Yes.’ He could never prove otherwise. If he asked Demain, he would of course deny it. What else could he do? So would others when confronted with the suggestion. Jasper wouldn’t get anywhere with this. And she was out of her debts and even had some money in hand to extend her wardrobe. Her heart made a little jump for joy.
Jasper said, ‘Thank you for speaking with me. I want to give you this.’ He handed her a crème coloured card inviting her to the museum on the next day at four in the afternoon. The same time as the opening had been.
‘What is this?’
‘An invitation to a very special meeting. I must urge you to come. In your own interest. I leave it up to you if you want to bring your husband or not. I think you might rather not.’
She stared at the card in her hands as if it was a venomous snake. ‘What is the meaning of this?’
‘I think more people will wonder that, Mrs Bruckner. But to learn the truth you only have to come to the assigned place at the time indicated. Along with the others.’
Others. So he was inviting more people. Beate of course. Anna perhaps. They could tell stories, about her, what she had supposedly said or done. She had to go. Make sure they told the truth, or that she had the opportunity to bend the truth to her own advantage. Yes, she had to go. Whether she wanted to or not.
* * *
‘We’ll have to go. We can’t afford not to.’ Anton Müller threw the knife he had been using in his act down on his dressing table.
Violet stood half behind him. ‘I don’t want to go back there. We must run away, now. Please darling…’ She wrapped her arms around his neck.
He looked at them in the reflection of the mirror above the dressing table. His own face was the same as always, but her face looked oddly different, slightly distorted even. Was it the fervour in her eyes, the eagerness in her smile, the grasping hands which suddenly seemed like animal claws?
He shook himself up. ‘We can’t flee, darling. It would look suspicious. We have to go to the museum and see what Jasper wants. There’s nothing else to be done.’
‘You’re so weak.’ She let go of him and paced the room, her heels clicking in the silence. ‘I used to believe you would take care of me, but now I doubt you will.’
‘I’m taking care of you. I’m keeping you from a careless harmful step. You must be strong, darling. Just sit it out a little longer. The police are convinced it was the burglar and they will close the case soon. Jasper can’t change anything about that. He’s a stranger. No one listens to him.’
‘He has been to see Kurt Baum.’ Violet said it softly almost to herself. ‘I wonder why.’
‘What?’
‘Nothing.’ She shook her head. ‘My father wanted someone to become my… teacher. He had engaged him before he died. Jasper went to see him and I just… don’t like how he’s interfering with my life.’
‘A teacher? A handsome man? Young?’
Violet smiled. ‘I guess he’s handsome if you like the type. He’s certainly young.’
Anton came to her. ‘Do I have to be afraid? Will you grow to like him?’
‘There’s no room in my heart for anyone but you.’ She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him passionately. He kissed her back, but something niggled at the back of his brain. A question he had asked himself before but repressed quickly.
Could you love someone too much?
Could you love someone… to death?
* * *
‘I really don’t have time for this kind of frivolity,’ Isobel Maurin said as she breezed into the room where the meeting was supposed to be held. She should have shredded that invitation the moment the landlady had handed it to her. But her curiosity had won out.
She smiled when she saw Jasper standing near the golden mask of death. The cold dispassionate features of the Lykean king shone under the light from the chandelier above. ‘It’s rather beautiful in a revolting way,’ she said as she closed in and studied the mask. ‘Such a symbol of male power, of the king being honoured and worshipped almost like a god. What do you think, Jasper, should we be happy we’ve left all of that behind?’
Jasper didn’t answer her smile. ‘I think we’ve left it behind in the sense that we don’t craft such masks anymore to cover the faces of the dead, but we are still victims of struggles for power. We either give people power over us, or we ourselves claim such power.’
‘How profound.’ She studied him with an arched brow. ‘I really had no idea that policemen thought about life that way. I considered them very practical and basic because of the everyday matters they deal with. Theft, accidents in the street.’
‘Accidents at home,’ Jasper supplied. ‘Did Sir Peter ever mention to you that a servant girl on his estate died? Years ago.’
‘I can’t recall that he did. But then we hardly spoke when we met each other.’
‘I see.’
There was a challenge in his eyes and Isobel found herself saying defensively, ‘We met after performances, with many others present, or at parties. We never had much time to share personal details from our lives.’
Jasper’s smile told her she had given herself away by taking the bait and she was angry at herself for it, but she had to make the most of this situation. ‘What exactly do you seek to achieve with this invitation, Inspector? That I will suddenly under the influence of that mask’s staring hollow eyes confess to deep dark secrets?’
‘Did you stab Sir Peter Treemore?’ Jasper asked in a casual tone as if he was inquiring how she liked the current weather.
She blinked. Was he serious?
‘Don’t answer him.’ The voice was loud and passionate coming from the door. Rupert stormed in. Isobel almost groaned. Why didn’t he have more finesse?
He stopped by her side and said to Jasper, ‘Don’t think you can pressure a vulnerable woman into a confession of murder. I know your type. You think you are intimidating but you are not.’
‘Dear Mr Rohmann, how your attitude has changed since you took me to Café Herzog and told me so many things in confidence.’
Jasper’s words made Isobel freeze. Rupert had met with the inspector? Had told him things?
Of course! To divert suspi
cion from himself and make her look guilty. The louse! She moved away from him.
Rupert said, ‘We merely had a cup of coffee…’ It sounded weak and unconvincing. Isobel could slap him but didn’t. Whatever he was up to, she’d outwit him. She always had.
* * *
Jasper saw the last person he had invited walk through the door. Anna Liebknecht. Without her husband, looking uncertain and hesitant. She didn’t want to come forward near Beate who kept her face averted, or Beate’s father who glared at Anna. To her left were Nadja and Countess LaRue, but Anna didn’t seem to trust her friends. She went to stand with the group on the right: Rohmann and Isobel Maurin.
Erneste Demain stood close to a chair on which Violet Treemore had sat down keeping her eyes on her hands in her lap. Iris hovered over her. Jasper wasn’t sure whether Violet had seen that Anton was also in the room. Perhaps she thought it better to pretend she didn’t know him? After all, she had no idea how it would play out here.
As always when he did this, Jasper felt his nerve ends tighten and his breathing quicken as if he was about to chase a criminal through the darkened streets of London. A criminal who might elude him if he let him get too far ahead. But if he ran after him without thinking, the criminal might be waiting around a corner to hit him over the head. Or an accomplice could appear to shoot at him. The trick was to make the right decisions – fall back, close in – while his lungs were screaming for oxygen and his brain seemed unable to think logically.
Here he wasn’t physically exerting himself. Here nobody was armed. At least, he hoped not. Of Rohmann he wasn’t too sure.
But despite the seemingly better circumstances he didn’t feel like he had the advantage. This was a group of people who were all individuals but also had a common interest: to keep the suspicion of murder firmly on the cat burglar who had conveniently been accused. They were born into circles where the idea of a scandal was terrible and loss of face had to be avoided at all costs. Even if they didn’t all like each other, they wouldn’t enjoy seeing another put on the spot, knowing that, when cornered, the accused might also point a finger at them.
An Exhibition of Murder Page 19