––––––––
It was late the following afternoon when Hardy phoned us. Eve had been plying the vacuum for several hours and was taking a shower when he delivered the news.
‘We found it,’ he announced triumphantly. ‘We found a knife with traces of blood in the hilt. It was in a tool box in the garage at Martin’s house. We haven’t got the blood tests back from the laboratory as yet, but the pathologist has confirmed it is the murder weapon. In addition, we checked with Martin’s secretary and she said he was out of his office when all the attacks took place. That appears pretty conclusive to me. However, because of Martin’s position locally, and as he cannot be brought to trial, the chief constable wants the facts to remain out of the public domain. The chief said he’d been contacted by someone called Cooper from Whitehall who suggested it would be in the national interest for the files to be closed and sealed. That suggests your theory about Martin’s past was correct. A note will be placed in each of the victims’ files but that is all.’ Hardy paused and then added, ‘The chief constable asked me to request your cooperation in this. He seems to be worried that you’ll be phoning Fleet Street the minute this call is over.’
I thought it over quickly. ‘I think Chloe Kershaw and her family should know some of the truth, if not all of it,’ I told him. ‘Apart from that, I’d be happy to oblige, on one condition.’
‘I don’t think it’s unreasonable to tell Miss Kershaw,’ Hardy agreed, ‘but what’s your other condition?’
‘I’d like you to tell me more about Martin’s suicide.’
‘Why do you want to know that?’
‘Call it idle curiosity, linked to a journalistic desire to have all the loose ends tied up. A bit like police officers do.’
‘OK, so what can I tell you?’
‘Did Martin’s secretary say what frame of mind he was in the day he died? Was he acting normally?’
‘He was fine. She said he even had an appointment with a new client which was the reason he stayed behind after she left. Apparently she was usually the last to leave.’
‘Did she say anything about the client? Did she see him – or her?’
Hardy gave me what facts he knew, after which I asked him about the poison. Once I’d gleaned everything I wanted, I reiterated my promise to keep quiet and ended the call. It was ten minutes later when Eve came downstairs. She spoke to me, and when I failed to respond asked me if something was wrong.
‘Sorry, I was deep in thought. I’ve had Hardy on the phone while you were showering.’ I repeated most of what he’d said, omitting only the last part.
‘So what were you pondering so deeply that you went temporarily deaf?’
‘I was debating how much we ought to reveal to Chloe in the light of my promise to Hardy. We obviously can’t give her chapter and verse, but apart from anything else they need to be reassured that they are no longer in any sort of danger. Why not give Chloe a call and arrange for us to go over to the Grange. We might as well get it out of the way and then we can move on with married life.’
Eve’s eyes sparkled, a reflection of her lovely smile. ‘Now that is one of the best ideas I’ve heard for a while.’
The meeting was arranged for the following day, when Chloe, Michael and her aunt and uncle would all be available. We sat in the drawing room, where the first thing I noticed was that the paintings, most of which I guessed were Kershaw family ancestors had now been replaced. Obviously they had taken her promise that all danger had passed to heart.
I mentioned the reappearance, to which Chloe replied, ‘Yes, we spent all morning putting them back.’
We explained that the motive for the murders had been to get hold of the art treasures Andrew had taken such pains to hide. ‘He also secreted some highly sensitive intelligence information he gathered during his career in the secret service,’ I told them. ‘Those papers represented danger to you, because of your connection to him. I am assured that much of what is contained in those papers is still extremely sensitive, and they are now in the safe keeping of MI5.’
‘Is it really true that the danger is finally over?’ The hope in Valerie Kershaw’s face illustrated the stress she and those close to her had been living with for so long.
‘Yes, it is, and there is no longer the slightest element of risk. The man who committed the ghastly murders, has now paid the ultimate price for those crimes. There is nobody left who has the slightest inkling of your family’s involvement in espionage. We have been instructed by the authorities not to reveal any further information we are privy to.’
‘I think it’s safe to say that what you have told us is more than enough to satisfy us. We would probably feel uncomfortable if we were given full chapter and verse. I think it’s a classic case of too much knowledge being a dangerous thing. Ignorance is bliss, that sort of thing,’ David told us.
I turned to Valerie. ‘One thing that still puzzles me,’ I asked a trifle tentatively, ‘is those rumours about your meetings with Bennett.’
Valerie looked at David, who nodded imperceptibly. She hesitated slightly before telling us, ‘One of the other things Andrew said was that we should keep in touch with Bennett and Harfleur. He didn’t say why, but stressed it was important. He said if there was going to be trouble, they knew something that would help. That was all, but it was enough to ensure I met them occasionally. David usually left it to me to contact them because he was busy running the estate. Recently I had to meet Bennett more often.’ Valerie grimaced as she added, ‘Last year was a disastrous one for the estate. The harvest was poor, and in addition one of David’s investments crashed which lost us more than was comfortable. Mark was in the process of finding buyers for some valuable china ornaments we decided were surplus to our needs. We don’t display them because they’re too fragile to be kept in proximity to a couple of energetic boys like our two.’
We stayed for afternoon tea, a decorous form of celebration, during the course of which Michael revealed that they had advanced their wedding plans. ‘Now that we have the required documents we can go ahead, and as far as we’re concerned, the sooner the better.’
‘Will you come to the wedding?’ Chloe asked. ‘We thought it best to consult you to ensure the date we’ve chosen is convenient for you. After all, if it hadn’t been for your investigation we might never have been able to tie the knot. We owe you so much that we really want you to be there.’
‘Chloe’s right, we’re all deeply indebted to you,’ David added, ‘not only for making Chloe and Michael’s wedding possible, but for everything else you have done.’
It was early evening when we drove back to Laithbrigg. During the journey, Eve asked the question I had expected from Hardy. ‘One thing that puzzles me is why Scott Martin killed himself? You said it yourself – there was no proof, no concrete evidence to point to him as the killer, not unless someone authorised a snap search of his garage, which was highly unlikely because he was seen as a reputable local solicitor. Even if he did fall under suspicion, all he would have to do is get rid of the murder weapon by either throwing it in the river or burying it in the back garden and nobody would have been any the wiser. So why did he commit suicide?’
‘He didn’t.’
My blunt reply stunned Eve into silence, something that is far from easy to achieve, so I basked in the success for several seconds, awaiting her next question.
‘What do you mean by “he didn’t”?’
‘Exactly what you think I meant; that Scott Martin didn’t commit suicide – at least I don’t believe he did.’
‘What made you arrive at that extraordinary conclusion?’
‘It was what Hardy told me on the phone yesterday, the part that I didn’t reveal to you. There were two reasons for that. First of all, I wanted to think over the implications, and second I reckoned that it was better to keep it to myself until after we’d been to Elmfield Grange.’
‘OK, so what was it that Hardy said?’ There was a testy edge to Eve’s voice that told me she was becoming impatient, and perhaps a little annoyed at not having been told earlier.
‘He told me that the pathologist discovered portions of a broken cyanide capsule lodged in Martin’s mouth.’
‘What of it, we already knew he took cyanide?’
‘Where did it come from?’
‘Sorry, I’m not with you.’
‘Right, supposing you decide you’ve had enough of me and you think that rather than having to go through a messy divorce you’ll do me in by poisoning me with cyanide.’
‘Don’t put ideas in my mind,’ Eve muttered. A sideways glance revealed her grin, which reassured me slightly. ‘Given that you’ve made the decision, where would you get the cyanide capsule?’
Eve didn’t need to think about it for too long. ‘I have absolutely no idea, which should comfort you slightly.’
‘Exactly, and that raises the question, where did Scott Martin obtain a cyanide capsule? It isn’t exactly the sort of item a solicitor based in a small market town can acquire easily, and you certainly can’t pop into your local chemist’s shop and buy one.’
‘So tell me, Mr Smart Alec, where did he get it then?’
‘He didn’t, or at least I don’t believe he did. I think his visitor brought it.’
‘What visitor?’
OK, so I was enjoying the suspense, drip-feeding my titbits of information to tease Eve. A man’s got to get his fun somewhere, hasn’t he? ‘Cyanide capsules are the sort of things that were given to spies. Their brief was to bite down on one if they were captured. They were instructed to kill themselves rather than risk giving away vital secrets or betraying fellow agents.’
‘Accepting the fact that you’ve watched too many espionage films, I’ll buy that. Get on with it, because there’s obviously more you’re itching to reveal.’
‘Hardy said Scott Martin stayed later than normal at his office on the night he died because he had an appointment with a new client. And Martin’s secretary said that far from being depressed, he was quite cheerful and upbeat about the possibilities from the meeting.’
‘Why is that relevant?’
‘Because if you connect the cyanide capsule to someone who used to be involved in espionage it becomes pertinent, especially when you learn that the new client Martin was waiting so eagerly for went by the name of Hunter.’
Eve’s loud gasp of astonishment was worth the long drawn out lead up to the revelation. After a short silence, she said, ‘You think Jäger poisoned Scott Martin?’
‘I do, and what’s more I don’t blame him one bit. Sadly, when you think of the number of deaths that can be attributed to Martin’s actions, either directly or indirectly, and the number of lives he ruined both here and in Germany, I reckon he had it coming to him and I’m only surprised that Jäger didn’t inflict far more suffering on him before killing him.’
‘Hang on, though, how did Jäger come to suspect that Martin was the man who betrayed his family?’
‘I told him. Or rather he demanded to know the truth and I hadn’t the heart to deny him.’
Eve looked baffled and asked me to explain.
‘Jäger told me he had managed to learn the “Trade Name” of the agent who betrayed his family, the same man who plotted the death of Devorah and his mother. However, that was all he had with which to identify the double agent. That Trade Name was the one we already knew from Cooper’s list, the one that corresponded with Scott Martin’s real identity. I believe that once Jäger learned that, Martin’s fate was sealed. Do you remember Jäger’s final words to us in the church? He told us that he had “matters from the past that remained unresolved”. I think that business was to wreak vengeance for all the deaths, the misery and suffering Martin had caused. The more I think about it, the more convinced I am that finding Chloe alive, well, and happy was an unexpected bonus as far as Jäger was concerned. I believe he came to this country solely with the objective of getting revenge on the person he was convinced was responsible for the betrayal and untimely deaths of his family. He had a great advantage in that he was the only person left alive from East Germany who knew Andrew Kershaw’s real identity. That had to be his starting point, and I reckon the guy we know as Lumsden guessed that if he followed Jäger he might lead him to where the missing masterpieces were. Lumsden also possibly knew about Martin from his time in the Stasi.’
‘If you’re right, what made him so convinced that the paintings hadn’t been sold or disposed of years ago? For all he knew they might have been in some art gallery in San Francisco.’
‘Given the value of those paintings a transaction involving them would have been easy to trace. As there was nothing recorded, it would be perfectly natural to assume that they were still with the original owners. Lumsden probably also knew of the Jäger family connection to the paintings.’
‘That all sounds quite logical, but I still don’t understand when and where you had this conversation with Jäger. Or how did you manage to discuss it for that matter? You’ve only a basic knowledge of German and he doesn’t speak any English.’
‘I’m sorry, Eve, but he managed to deceive you like he did everyone else. I was beginning to have my suspicions, but that evening proved I was right. Isaac Jäger both understands and speaks English perfectly well. He is also one of the finest actors never to have taken to the stage, in my opinion. For him to be able to keep up that pretence in front of many witnesses for such a long time was a major achievement. As for my conversation with him, that took place while you were upstairs getting ready on the evening we took him for a meal at the Admiral Nelson. Jäger came to my study. He knew I had the information he needed. He apologised for the deception and asked me to promise to keep quiet about his knowledge of English until after he had gone.’
Eve was silent for a long time as she pondered this, before delivering her verdict. ‘I can’t honestly say I blame him. I think you were right, Adam, and there was every reason for Jäger to want to take revenge. So as long as you promise to behave yourself, I promise not to betray you to the police as an accessory to murder.’
We had pulled up outside Eden House as Eve was speaking. I got out of the car and as we walked towards the front door asked her, ‘OK, so what do I have to do in order to ensure your silence?’
Eve took my hand and guided me into the hallway. Without releasing her grip on me, she said, ‘Come upstairs and I’ll show you.’
Next day was dark and overcast a complete contrast to the bright, sunny weather of the previous week. The morning paper carried headlines, syndicated from the nationals, announcing the sudden and early retirement of two prominent Establishment figures causing much speculation. I might have wondered as to the reason, had I not known their trade names from Kershaw’s dossier. How many more might there be?
We decided to go shopping in Dinsdale. Having a house guest had depleted our supplies considerably. As we drove past St Mary’s Eve stirred restlessly in the passenger seat.
‘Something wrong?’ I asked.
‘I was troubled by a memory, that’s all.’ She fell silent again and it was only when I’d parked at the rear of the market place that she turned towards me and asked, ‘Can you recall the day that Michael was attacked in the church?’
I shivered slightly from the recollection. ‘I’ll say I do. I was troubled by that vision until you expounded your theory and debunked the ghost legend.’
‘Yes, well that’s where the problem lies. I believe there’s a flaw in it.’
‘A flaw? How come?’
‘You remember I said the vision is a projection of the image in that window caused by reflection and refraction of the sun’s rays?’
‘Absolutely, so what about it?’
‘Think back to that day, the day you saw that vision. Can you remember what the weather was like?’
Eve had been wise to wait until we were parked up before asking me, because the memory had my senses reeling. ‘It was dull and overcast – just like today.’
‘Exactly, so whatever you saw within the Lady chapel, and I don’t doubt your word for one minute that you saw something, it most definitely could not have been caused by sunlight ...’
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The Eden House Mysteries
Bill Kitson
Published by Accent Press Ltd 2016
ISBN 9781783757305
Copyright © Bill Kitson 2016
The right of Bill Kitson to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988
The story contained within this book is a work of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, electrostatic, magnetic tape, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the written permission of the publishers: Accent Press Ltd, Ty Cynon House, Navigation Park, Abercynon, CF45 4SN