Murder at the Ashmolean, page 26
‘Do you want me to come with you to see de Witt?’ asked Abigail.
‘No, thank you,’ said Daniel. ‘I may need to lean on him a bit.’
‘I can lean on him,’ Abigail pointed out.
Daniel smiled. ‘You’d beat him with a shovel. I need to be … subtle.’
‘Are you saying I’m not subtle?’ demanded Abigail.
‘Probably “devious” is the right word,’ said Daniel. ‘You’re too honest to be devious.’
‘You make me sound too virtuous,’ said Abigail, offended. ‘I can be devious.’
‘Yes, true.’ Daniel sighed, defeated. ‘But right now, I need to see de Witt on my own.’
‘In that case I’ll go to the Ashmolean and go through Goddard’s sketchbooks with Gladstone Marriott, and get these fakes identified and out of the museum.’
As Abigail entered the Ashmolean, she found Esther in an agitated state just inside the entrance.
‘There you are!’ exclaimed Esther. ‘I’ve been looking all over for you. I tried the Wilton Hotel, but they said they didn’t know where you or Mr Wilson had gone.’
‘We’ve been busy,’ said Abigail. She hesitated, wondering whether to tell her about Josiah Goddard, but decided against it until she’d spoken to Gladstone Marriott. Instead, she said, ‘We may have a story for you.’
‘Oh?’
‘We discovered the body of a woman who’d gone missing. We believe she was killed, but whether on purpose or accidentally has yet to be determined.’
‘A murder!’ said Esther excitedly.
‘It may not turn out to be murder,’ said Abigail. ‘Whichever it is, we’ll let you have details, so you can get your first proper crime report.’
‘If Mr Pinker lets me write it,’ said Esther unhappily.
‘I feel he will,’ said Abigail. ‘What were you looking for us for?’
‘I’ve done my second interview. Baroness Whichford.’
‘How did you get on? What was she like?’
‘She was lovely to me, but so unhappy!’
‘Why?’
‘I don’t know. I didn’t like to ask her. Her husband, the baron, spoke to me before I met her. He was lovely. So caring about her. He wanted me to know some of the troubles she’s had lately, so I didn’t say anything that might upset her.’
‘What sort of troubles?’ asked Abigail.
‘According to the baron, a cousin whom she was very close to died in a tragic accident just recently. And when I said I’d avoid talking to her about people dying and suggested instead talking about their children, he told me that they didn’t have any, and that fact causes her great upset.’ Esther scowled. ‘I’m so stupid! I should have checked if they had any children before I went out there!’
‘So, what did you talk about?’
‘The house. The estate. Her husband’s family.’
‘Did you manage to say anything about famous writers the family might have met?’
‘No,’ admitted Esther unhappily. ‘I tried to, but she seemed so sad I stuck to things that might cheer her up. You know, the decoration of the house, clothes, that sort of thing. But nothing there seemed to interest her. Not that she was unkind; it was as if she wasn’t there. Not in spirit. As if she wanted to be alone but was too kind to say as much.’
‘Did you get an idea of what the relationship was like between her and the baron?’
‘Absolutely lovely! As I said, he was so caring about her before he took me to see her. And when I mentioned him to her, her face softened for the first time and I could see how deeply she felt for him. In fact, she said that he was her salvation.’
‘Her salvation?’ repeated Abigail, puzzled. ‘What an odd thing to say. Salvation from what?’
‘Oh, just that he was the right man for her,’ said Esther airily. ‘It’s what women say when they find Mr Right and he takes them out of a life of spinsterhood.’
‘I can’t imagine myself ever saying anything like that,’ said Abigail, being critical.
‘Ah, but you’re still unmarried, like me,’ said Esther. ‘Maybe we’d both be saying that if Mr Right turned up and swept us off our feet.’
I have found Mr Right, thought Abigail as she headed for their office, but I’d never call Daniel my salvation.
She wondered if the fact that she didn’t feel the need of a man to give her an identity made her odd. That certainly seemed to be the opinion of her sister, Bella, who seemed to view her own marriage to Dr Keen as some kind of salvation.
The fact is, I love Daniel for the person he is, and I hope he loves me for the person I am. Short-tempered, belligerent and opinionated, she added slightly ruefully.
She’d promised Esther that she’d be in touch with details of the discovery of Eve Lachelle’s body as soon as they had the full facts from the police, so they were able to pass on the details for publication. Right now, sorting out the issue of the forgeries was her main mission.
Abigail collected Goddard’s sketchbooks from their office and took them along to Gladstone Marriott.
‘Here,’ she said, putting the books down on his desk. ‘The details of which items from the Ashmolean were copied on the instructions of Everett, then sold and replaced by copies.’
Marriott sat at his desk and watched with a mixture of awe and horror as Abigail flicked over the pages of Goddard’s sketchbooks, stopping every now and then to show a particular painted drawing.
‘The ones marked “GE” are the ones that Everett specifically asked Goddard to copy, so those are the ones that we’ll find are the fakes. Most of the other sketches are of items that Goddard thought would sell well in his shop, so he made copies, but the originals are still in place.’ She passed a sheet of paper to him. ‘I’ve made a list of the items marked “GE”. There are twelve of them, eight from the ancient Egypt display and four from the Roman. As you know, I’d already identified four of the items on display as fakes, so that leaves eight, which we’ll soon identify. I suggest we take these sketchbooks with us to those exhibits and remove the offending items.’
‘Twelve!’ exclaimed Marriott.
‘It could have been a great deal worse,’ said Abigail.
‘Yes, I suppose you’re right.’ Marriott sighed. ‘But I can’t get over the fact that the originals have gone, never to be recovered!’ He let out a heartfelt groan. ‘If only Everett had left a note of who he’d sold the artefacts to we could try and recover them.’
‘He kept his client list in his head, so there was no chance of him being exposed,’ said Abigail. ‘But there may be a chance to recover some of the items.’
Marriott looked at her in surprise. ‘You think so? But how?’
‘I can’t tell you until I’m sure of something,’ said Abigail.
‘What?’ asked Marriott.
‘Again, I think that’s best kept secret, just in case I’m wrong and a genuine person is maligned. That would be very unfair.’
‘Yes, but …’ Marriott hesitated, then gave her a look of almost desperate appeal. ‘You think you might be able to locate them?’
‘Possibly,’ said Abigail.
Vance de Witt looked up as the door of his office opened and Daniel walked in.
‘You again,’ said de Witt sourly. ‘I’ve got nothing to say to you.’
‘That’s unfortunate,’ said Daniel, ‘because I have something to say to you. Piers Stevens has been arrested on a charge of causing the death of Eve Lachelle. The police have his confession. They also have the body of Eve Lachelle. It seems that she was killed here, in your storeroom.’
‘I know nothing about this!’ snapped de Witt.
‘Yes, so you’ve said before,’ said Daniel. ‘But when Stevens comes to trial, a few things are going to come out in public, especially when Stevens starts giving evidence. According to him, the trouble began when he came into your storeroom and found Eve Lachelle being raped by three of your members.’
‘The charges were dropped,’ said de Witt.
‘For lack of evidence,’ continued Daniel. ‘But the confession from Stevens rather changes things. Charges of rape can now be brought, even though the woman is dead. The fact that she is dead will make sure the case gets even bigger publicity in the press. The Quill Club is going to be implicated throughout this case, both from the rape and the killing of Eve Lachelle. It’s going to become notorious. You are going to become notorious, Mr de Witt.’
‘This was nothing to do with me,’ said de Witt curtly.
‘That will be for the court to decide,’ said Daniel. ‘I look forward to you giving evidence in a public court and seeing how confident you are then.’
As de Witt glared silently at him, Daniel added, ‘And it’s not just the trial in court, it’s the trial by the press. How much publicity they give it in the newspapers. Believe me, the journalists will be desperate for any juicy details they can get about you, about Stevens, the Quill Club, everything. Now, Inspector Pitt and the police aren’t allowed to talk to the press about such things because of their position, but I’m in a different situation. I can talk to them, and I can choose which ones I talk to because I’ve made many contacts in the world of newspapers. And these will be national newspapers, not just the Oxford Messenger, who are easily controllable.’
‘How much?’ growled de Witt.
Daniel shook his head. ‘You misunderstand me, Mr de Witt. I’m not after money, but I would like some information about one of your members. Now, the inspector could get a warrant to confiscate your membership lists, but as we’ve discussed before, they could well vanish by the time the warrant arrives. I can’t promise to keep this story out of the papers, it’s going to be too big for that. But I can decide how much I share with certain journalists about the behind the scenes in this case, including you and the Quill Club. In fact, I may choose to say nothing.’
De Witt studied Daniel, then asked, ‘What do you want to know?’
Daniel produced the two slips of paper on each of which he’d written a name.
‘One of these is a member of your club. Which one?’
Inside, Daniel’s heart raced as he worried that de Witt might say both men were members.
De Witt looked at the two slips of paper, then placed his finger on one.
‘Him,’ he said sullenly.
‘Thank you,’ said Daniel.
CHAPTER FORTY
‘So it’s him,’ said Abigail.
‘I believe it is,’ said Daniel.
‘I assume we pay him a visit and confront him.’
‘No,’ said Daniel. ‘I think it would be better if it’s just me.’
‘Why?’ asked Abigail.
‘Why would this woman hand over such a precious item?’
‘According to Marriott it was about revenge on her part.’
‘Does that fit with what we know of this particular woman?’
‘No,’ admitted Abigail.
‘With what we know about Everett, it’s more likely he had something on her. Something incriminating.’
‘An affair?’
‘Possibly. And if that was the case I’m sure our man would refuse to talk about it with a woman present.’
Abigail nodded.
‘Yes, you could be right. In that case, I’ll call on Lord Chessington and confront him about the fakes, and the fact that he has the originals in his house.’
‘You’re sure of that?’ asked Daniel.
‘As sure as you are that this man killed Everett. Marriott and I checked Goddard’s sketchbooks against the artefacts on display, and we’ve identified the twelve that Goddard marked as the ones that Everett asked him specifically to copy, eight from the ancient Egypt display and four from the Roman.’
‘And those twelve originals have all gone?’
‘Yes. I’m convinced I saw one of the missing Egyptian plates in Chessington’s secret room, and as he’s such an absolute devotee of ancient Egypt, I suspect he’ll have the other ancient Egyptian ones. He may even have the Roman items.’
‘I’m not sure if it’s a good idea for you to confront him on your own,’ said Daniel doubtfully. ‘As I said, I feel the man is dangerous, despite his outward air of bonhomie. I still have a suspicion he shot Grafton to kill him, not to wound him. And the only reason he’d do that is to protect a secret, such as having the stolen artefacts in his secret room. Go in there and challenge him with what we know and you could be putting yourself at risk.’
‘Then I won’t challenge him directly,’ said Abigail. ‘I’ll be subtle. I shall phrase what I say that hints at what we know, but without suggesting he is in danger of discovery.’
Daniel looked even more doubtful. ‘That sounds like an impossibility to me,’ he said. ‘I suggest you leave it until we can go and see him together, when I’ll make sure I’m armed, just in case.’
‘You think he might shoot me?’
‘I think he’s capable of it,’ said Daniel. ‘I really feel there’s something about him that’s dangerous.’
‘In that case, arrange a pistol for me to carry when I go to see him.’
‘No,’ said Daniel. ‘It would be too dangerous.’
‘So it’s dangerous if I go unarmed, and dangerous if I go armed,’ said Abigail, annoyed. ‘Daniel, I’ve said before, you have to learn to trust me. I know what I’m doing.’
‘Not with someone like Lord Chessington.’
‘I’ve met plenty of Lord Chessingtons before,’ retorted Abigail. ‘And I think I can ensure my safety.’
‘How? By arming yourself with a shovel?’ asked Daniel with gentle irony.
‘I thought I might offer to meet him somewhere public. The Ashmolean, for example. Or the reception lounge of the Wilton Hotel.’
‘Yes.’ Daniel nodded. ‘Something like that would be safer. Thank you.’
‘That’s settled then.’ Abigail smiled. ‘I can’t have you in a worried state about me when you’re having your all-boys-together chat. You’re going to need your wits about you if you’re going to get a confession out of him.’
Keeping her promise to Daniel, Abigail sent a letter by messenger to Lord Chessington inviting him to meet her at the Ashmolean ‘to discuss some issues that have arisen over some of the items on display’. The messenger returned with a polite reply, offering his apologies for not being able to accept her kind invitation.
As I sincerely hope you may understand and be sympathetic to, my recent dreadful experience has meant that I am reluctant to leave my house. However, I do hope you will do me the honour of coming to my house for the discussion you mention, which sounds most intriguing.
I do hope you can come and look forward to seeing you this afternoon.
Yours sincerely,
Chessington
Well, I tried, Daniel, thought Abigail ruefully.
Abigail made her way to Chessington’s house, weighing up her options if, as Daniel suspected, his lordship did turn nasty when she told him the reason for her errand. What could he do to her? She was fit and strong and had already overpowered one attacker who’d tried to assault her. Chessington did not seem to be the type suited to physical action. Yes, he’d shot and killed Inspector Grafton, but surely he wouldn’t be receiving her with a loaded pistol in his hand. If he did attempt to go for a gun, she was fairly confident she could deal with him before he could aim it at her.
She mounted the steps to Chessington’s front door and rang the bell. The door was opened by William, the butler, who escorted her to the library, where Chessington awaited her. His lordship rose from his chair and came towards her, smiling happily, to shake her hand in greeting.
‘Miss Fenton! It was a pleasant surprise to get your note! And thank you so much for agreeing to meet me here, rather than somewhere outside. As I said in my reply, I’m afraid to admit that since the dreadful events of that night when the detective inspector tragically died, I’ve been reluctant to leave the house. It may sound unnecessarily cautious, but I keep wondering whether other dangers await me. I still don’t know why the man had decided to burgle my house, and I’m fearful that others may intend to do the same.’ He pointed to a card table, on which lay a pistol. ‘But, just in case, this time I will be prepared.’
A pistol, groaned Abigail inwardly. And, I expect, fully loaded. I have walked into the lion’s den.
‘Please, make yourself comfortable,’ said Chessington, gesturing at an armchair, and he settled himself down in the chair next to the card table with the pistol within his easy reach.
Abigail sat, wondering how fast she could move if Chessington snatched up the pistol.
‘You said you wanted to discuss some issues that have arisen over a few of the items on display,’ said Chessington. ‘What issues would they be?’
‘As you know, Mr Wilson and I were engaged by the Ashmolean to look into the death of Mr Gavin Everett,’ said Abigail.
‘Which was suicide, as I understand.’
‘The formal inquest has yet to take place, and although it is very likely that suicide will indeed be recorded, there is the reason why he took his own life.’
‘And have you discovered any reason why he should have?’
‘One situation has come to light that may have an impact on his death. We’ve discovered that Mr Everett was engaged in a fraud, whereby he had copies made of certain precious artefacts in the Ashmolean collection, and he had these copies put on display while he sold the originals to private collectors. It does suggest that the items that were copied were deliberately chosen to suit the private collectors.’
Chessington fell silent and turned away from Abigail, obviously taking this information in and turning it over in his mind. Finally, he turned back to Abigail and asked, ‘How sure are you of this?’
‘Very sure,’ said Abigail. ‘We were able to identify the articles that were copied. I have examined the copies and verified that they are, indeed, fraudulent. We’ve also effected the arrest of the man who made the copies. He is currently in custody at Kemp Hall police station awaiting a charge of conspiracy to commit fraud.’
