Mercy or Mercenary?

by Sheila Parker

  As Marina moved towards the bed, Ralph leant forward and held out his hands, but she ignored this and held the glass to his lips when he thirstily gulped down the contents. Marina watched as he leant back against the pillows and a few seconds later closed his eyes. Then she returned to the bathroom, rinsed, dried the glass and replaced it on the table. Donning her coat, scarf and hat, she glanced around the room and, on reaching the hall, told Joanna, who was standing at the bottom of the stairs, that Ralph did not want to be disturbed.

  Marina’s thoughts were still of Joanna as she stopped at the sea wall. As Ralph’s niece, Joanna would be included in his will – her mother had died five years ago – but was there anyone else who would be included?

  As on previous occasions, Marina realised that Isabel, now fully-recovered, would be the main beneficiary and was frustrated that the solicitor’s notice had not yet appeared in the local paper. How much longer would she have to wait?

  15

  ‘Can you tell me why there’s so much trouble for the people writing your biography?’ Leo and Hugo had met, as arranged, at a Soho restaurant where they had eaten on previous occasions, ordered their meal and exchanged pleasantries over their aperitifs until Hugo could no longer restrain himself.

  ‘What do you mean?’ Leo’s insouciant attitude infuriated Hugo even further.

  While he realised that Leo was probably doing it deliberately, he snapped, ‘You know damn well what I mean. Ralph died under suspicious circumstances, Isabel almost died from food poisoning and now Duncan is not only receiving threatening phone calls, he was almost killed last Friday.’

  ‘What!’

  Leo set his glass down with a thump and leant forward. ‘How do you know about this?’

  ‘Isabel phoned me yesterday after a visit from Chief Inspector Kershaw who is in charge of the investigation into Ralph’s death. Apparently, one of his sergeants rescued Duncan just in time. He was pushed off a pavement, nearly ended up under a constant stream of traffic.’ Hugo was pleased to see that Leo was now genuinely concerned and he persisted, ‘What is there about your biography that this person doesn’t want it published?’ and when there was no reply, ‘Do they know what happened during that three-year period which isn’t covered, and about which Isabel and I are also curious?’

  ‘It isn’t anything to do with my theatrical career, but I suppose I’d better tell you.’

  Leo drained his glass at the same time as the waiter told them their table was ready, so that it was a few minutes later, seated in a secluded corner, that Hugo prompted, ‘Whatever happened was a long time ago; why all this secrecy?’

  Leo ate another mouthful of smoked salmon and looked thoughtful, as though choosing his words with care, then told Hugo about the Waldner family and Manfred’s illness. ‘I returned to England as soon as he died and resumed my career.’

  Hugo stared at Leo throughout, automatically eating asparagus tips and hollandaise sauce, and then exclaimed, ‘It’s incredible! To think that you actually lived in Vienna as someone else, for that length of time and no one knew the difference,’ and only with a momentary pause while their plates were removed, ‘how did they find you?’

  After Leo had related being mistaken for Manfred, his meeting with Mervyn, then Smithers and Price, Hugo said, ‘This could be another book. Your life there, the people you met – everything. Why haven’t you mentioned this before?’ Hugo curbed his impatience as the main course was served and nodded when Leo said he had been sworn to secrecy. ‘But that was thirty years ago. There can’t be any of the family left who’ll object – you told me Manfred’s parents are dead.’

  ‘There was a cousin, the same age as Manfred, but I can’t remember his name. His parents had moved to England and he returned to Vienna at least once a year during the time I was there. He’s the same age as me, of course, probably still alive and might object to any reference to Manfred’s illness.’

  ‘To the extent that he’s responsible for all that’s happened to the McGuire family?’ Hugo knew that Kieran lived in Bristol and had met him when he lunched at the hotel, and now asked, ‘Do you have any relatives, or can you think of anyone who might object to your biography?’

  ‘My nephew, Kieran, but I doubt that he’d be bothered.’ Leo ate the last piece of steak on his plate. ‘As you know, very little has been mentioned about my family, but that was my decision; it’s my biography.’

  You conceited bastard, thought Hugo and then heard Leo say, ‘My two elderly aunts will probably be disappointed but that’s too bad. However, returning to the reason for our meeting: has Duncan been frightened off completing, or are they going to finish by the deadline?’

  Hugo ignored this question by asking one of his own: ‘What do I tell them about those three missing years? As you know, it doesn’t run smoothly. That chapter needs something else.’

  Leo nodded, ‘That’s what Isabel said, and I must admit I was rather abrupt when she asked about that, and the three-year gap.

  ‘I spoke to Mervyn before we flew to Venice; he is going to see someone higher up and will contact me. Nevertheless, I’m sure I could include a few paragraphs to the effect that I spent those years in Vienna studying the culture and improving my German.’

  Hugo nodded. ‘That sounds as though it would be acceptable. Let me know when you’ve heard from Mervyn.’

  Neither wanted sweet or cheese and Leo was happy to talk about Venice as they drank their coffee until, although he knew about Leo’s young Jamaican lover, Hugo asked, ‘But you didn’t go alone, did you?’

  ‘No. Dominic enjoyed it as much as I did and is looking forward to our next trip, wherever that is.’

  The two men parted company outside the restaurant whereupon Hugo strolled towards Leicester Square, deep in thought. He was concerned about the threats that Duncan was receiving and worried that the police had not yet found the person responsible for Ralph’s death.

  ‘Where are you going?’ Stefan Baumgarten looked at the skirts and jackets on the bed. ‘You’ll find those rather warm at this time of the year.’

  ‘You know I’m not going anywhere.’ Belinda smiled as Stefan removed his jacket and reached into the wardrobe for a pair of casual trousers. ‘I’m sure you have one or two suits that need cleaning.’

  ‘Thank you, my dear. You’re quite right.’

  Stefan placed two dark business suits on the bed and then reached for his Austrian overcoat. ‘Do you mind taking this as well? It’s time it was cleaned.’

  ‘I might as well make my journey worthwhile. Is there anything in the pockets?’

  ‘I doubt it.’ In spite of saying this, Stefan felt in both pockets and then suddenly said, ‘What’s this?’

  Belinda glanced up from folding another skirt. ‘It’s only a tissue still folded. Probably never been used…’

  ‘I realise that, but how did it get there? You know I never use them, neither do you; therefore, we never buy any.’ Stefan laid the offending square object on the bed. ‘It’s one of those from a Kleenex travel pack, with a patterned edge.’

  Belinda looked puzzled. ‘I’ve seen the packets but as you’ve just said, never bought any. So how…?’

  ‘That’s not the only thing; there are some hairs on the collar and they’re certainly not mine.’ Stefan indicated several strands of dark brown hair and, gazing at Belinda’s blonde curls, ‘or yours.’

  For a moment, neither spoke and then, hesitantly, Belinda ventured, ‘Does this mean what I think it does?’

  Stefan nodded, removed his fedora from the shelf in his wardrobe and indicated two further strands, the same colour.

  ‘Someone got in and… who? How?’ And as she realised that an outsider had been in the house, Belinda exclaimed, ‘Oh my God! We’ve been burgled.’

  ‘I don’t think so. Nothing has been disturbed or taken. However, I am going to phone the inspector,’ and a
s Belinda moved towards the pile of clothes for the cleaners, Stefan continued, ‘leave them for now and come downstairs.’

  ‘So you’ve only just discovered this?’ said Kershaw some fifteen minutes later as, standing in the bedroom, he looked down at the coat and hat.

  ‘Yes.’ Stefan quickly explained the reason he had taken the garments from his wardrobe when he had noticed the offending hairs and, touching the grey hairs around his bald patch, ‘As you can see, they’re certainly not mine, or Belinda’s. In any case, she would be completely lost in my coat.’

  Kershaw nodded, aware that Tom, his young sergeant, kept glancing out of the window and fidgeting, eager to speak. However, he had several questions to ask so Tom would have to wait. Instead, he said, ‘We’ll have to take these garments for examination by forensics. I believe you also have a scarf?’

  Stefan took this from the shelf and placed it on the bed, saying, ‘Obviously, I haven’t worn any of these garments for several weeks. As you will remember, we were away for the day on the Saturday that someone was seen wearing an Austrian-style coat. But how could anyone get in?’

  ‘Oh stop it, Stefan!’ exclaimed Belinda. ‘You’re making me nervous.’

  Kershaw immediately noticed Stefan’s anxious expression and said quickly, ‘Could we have a cup of tea, please, Mrs Baumgarten? And perhaps you could find us a large carrier to put these garments in.’

  ‘Of course, Inspector. I’m sorry; I should have offered you some tea when you arrived.’

  Stefan waited until he could hear the clatter of cups and saucers from downstairs when he started again, ‘How did…?’

  ‘Someone could have climbed through the hedge which separates Kieran’s and your garden,’ interrupted Tom. ‘It is rather thin in places.’

  Then, in reply to Stefan’s next question, Tom suggested, ‘They could have got into the house through your kitchen, or the French window in the lounge. And they probably came back the same way to return the garments.’

  ‘Who knew you were going to be away all day?’ asked Kershaw.

  ‘I remember telling the heads of departments, who know I’m always off on Saturday and Sunday, that we were driving down to Minehead to see some friends. One of them, I can’t remember who, asked if we were staying overnight. I had suggested it but Belinda wasn’t keen, just for one night and now… you’ve seen for yourself she’s upset someone got into the house. There’s two questions I’d like to ask before we go downstairs: do you think the person who “borrowed” these garments was responsible for Ralph’s death, and do you have any suspicions as to who this is?’

  ‘I’m hoping that the identification of these hairs will tell us that.’

  ‘Will that take long?’ But before Kershaw could answer, Stefan resumed, ‘I think we should go down before Belinda gets more upset.’ It was as he was about to leave the room that Stefan turned back and pointing to the tissue that was still on the bed, said, ‘That was in the pocket, shall I throw it away?’

  ‘No!’ Transfixed and speechless, Stefan watched as Kershaw produced and quickly put on a pair of transparent gloves, and gently ran his forefinger over the tissue. ‘This has been used but for an unusual purpose. Something has been crushed in this.’ Kershaw refolded the tissue then slid it into a small plastic envelope which he had taken from his jacket pocket. ‘Thank you very much, Mr Baumgarten, for what might prove to be significant evidence. However, we won’t mention this to your wife.’

  Teacups and a plate of assorted biscuits were on a long, highly polished coffee table and Belinda, who had been looking out at the garden, still agitated, turned, indicated comfortable easy chairs and picked up the teapot. Kershaw, interested to learn about Stefan’s life as a hotelier and his rise to his present position, was glad to see Tom was unobtrusively learning more about the day they spent in Minehead, their friends and also Marina. He was then surprised to hear Belinda ask, ‘Has Isabel McGuire fully recovered? Will they be able to finish the biography in time?’

  ‘Yes. I understand that Duncan Sinclair is a great help.’

  ‘And very charming.’ Stefan paused as he drank his tea and then resumed, ‘Although I’ve never met her and her name wasn’t mentioned at the dinner party, I gather Elspeth McGuire is a very attractive and intelligent woman.’

  Kershaw nodded. ‘Apparently, she and Isabel have been friends since their schooldays; they attended Redmaids,’ and rising to his feet, ‘we must be on our way.’

  As he drove, Tom briefly recounted what he had learnt about Marina. Although neighbours for some time, Belinda, who worked part-time in a charity shop, did not see Marina very often. She occasionally asked the younger woman over for coffee and, on each occasion, noted that Marina was constantly gazing around and then talking disparagingly about their own home and furnishings and her ambition to redecorate and refurbish this. ‘That’s the way she behaved when she was working as a full-time courier,’ concluded Tom.

  ‘We haven’t heard anything from Peter Hoskins, so he obviously hasn’t seen Marina,’ said Kershaw. ‘There hasn’t been a legal notice in the paper yet which means she wouldn’t know who to contact.’ Kershaw had allocated this task to a keen young constable and resumed, ‘I’ll phone Hoskins when we reach the station while you organise a house-to-house team. Although the person wearing that hat, scarf and coat was only seen by Alex Gresham, it’s possible they were also seen by someone living in the Henleaze area.’

  ‘Very good, sir.’

  ‘Why would anyone want to borrow your hat and coat and who, or rather how many people, know you own them?’ Ten minutes had elapsed since Inspector Kershaw and his sergeant had left and, still sitting in the same armchair, Belinda gazed at Stefan who stood by the French window.

  ‘I’m sure that’s exactly what the inspector and his sergeant are asking themselves.’ Stefan had already phoned the locksmith and a man was already on his way to change locks and supply additional security fittings.

  ‘I can’t or rather I don’t want to believe that the person who broke into our house was responsible for Ralph McGuire’s death, can you?’ asked Belinda.

  ‘It’s not for us to think or worry about that, my dear. Inspector Kershaw is in charge of the case and I’m sure he’s more than capable of finding out what happened.’

  ‘But if that person was wearing your hat and coat, would you be… what d’you call it, an accessory?’

  ‘Of course not. There may be no connection whatsoever and you’re worrying unnecessarily.’

  ‘I can’t help it.’

  At that moment, the doorbell rang. Belinda became startled and Stefan calmed her by saying, ‘That’s probably the locksmith. I’m sure he would like a cup of tea.’

  An hour later, after making the necessary adjustments and additions to the French window, kitchen, front doors and all ground floor windows, the fitter returned to the kitchen and his usual timid smile widened into a grin. ‘I don’t know what you’re cooking, madam, but it smells wonderful. Unfortunately, my wife hasn’t any imagination when it comes to food.’

  Belinda smiled and relaxed. ‘I suddenly remembered: I have a friend from the charity shop coming to supper. It’s not a difficult dish and the ingredients aren’t expensive. Perhaps your wife would like to try it if I gave you a copy of the recipe.’

  Stefan, who was standing in the doorway, gave a sigh of relief. Belinda always enjoyed cooking or talking about food, and he was glad that she wouldn’t be alone that evening. She usually invited one of the other helpers for a meal on Wednesday, which was one of his evenings on duty at the hotel. He now watched as Belinda jotted down the ingredients for a goulash and wished he could be home to enjoy it.

  The young fitter was still sniffing appreciatively when he accepted the cooking instructions and quickly read them. ‘Thank you very much, madam.’ And as he reached the front door, Belinda heard him say, ‘You’re a lucky man, sir, to
have a wife who can cook like that. There aren’t so many women who can be bothered to prepare a proper meal; it’s all microwaves and takeaways. They could learn a lot from your good lady.’

  16

  ‘This is all most interesting, Inspector. You’re certain neither Elspeth nor Isabel know about this young woman?’

  It was early Thursday morning and Kershaw, who had been very grateful when Peter Hoskins agreed to see him before his first appointment, had just recounted all that was known about Marina Bushell. ‘Elspeth can’t recall Ralph ever showing any interest in girls.’

  Peter nodded. ‘My first impression of him, which was when his parents died, was that he was definitely the academic type. Ralph wasn’t good-looking, but tall and broad-shouldered. I realise that was years ago, but it was difficult to believe he was the same person. When I called at the house, about nine months ago, he had shrunk and was considerably thinner. Although it was sad that he should die so unexpectedly, in a way it was a happy release. He didn’t have to suffer the indignities that so many with Alzheimer’s endure.’

  Peter looked at Kershaw and with surprising candour asked, ‘I know you’re still investigating the circumstances surrounding his death. Have you any idea who the mysterious caller was?’

  ‘We’re waiting for some results from forensics,’ and without pausing, Kershaw asked, ‘who would inherit if anything happened to Isabel?’

  ‘Unless she willed it otherwise, Elspeth. As you already know, she’s Ralph’s sister, and Joanna was also included in his will. But returning to Isabel, do you know who was responsible for poisoning her? What was used?’

  Peter’s expression became grim as he learnt of the laburnum tree in the Baumgartens’ garden, Kieran’s lack of knowledge of trees and that enquiries were still being made. ‘I realise it’s a week since Tom recognised the tree as a laburnum, but the couple who live next door to the Baumgartens have been away. They’re expected back this evening. One of the local officers will be calling on them tomorrow morning,’ said Kershaw.