The Haunted Lady (27 page)

Having left the masterpieces with Evans, we went on to St Mary’s to hand over the diptych. Returning the images of Mary Magdalene to the church would take time and effort. Waiting for the end result proved too long and drawn out for Eve, who rapidly became bored and wandered away to explore the rest of the building.

She was gone for quite a while and when she returned from her foray I noticed a mischievous smile on her face. That expression suggested that she had made some discovery of note and was awaiting the right moment to reveal it. Despite guessing that she was up to something, I hadn’t the slightest idea what it was.

Once the pictures were finally in place we stepped back to view the fruits of our labour. The effect was stunning.

‘They look absolutely superb,’ Eve said, voicing the thoughts of us all. She paused for a second before adding, ‘Not only that but now they’re in place, you’ll have an added bonus, Michael.’

The vicar looked puzzled. ‘What might that be?’

‘As long as that diptych remains in place, you and your parishioners will no longer be plagued by the ghostly figure that haunts the Lady chapel.’

‘I thought you didn’t believe in such superstitions, Eve? Do you really believe that the replacement of those paintings will cause her to stop appearing?’

Eve had been smiling before but my question turned it into a grin of triumph. ‘I certainly do, but not for any superstitious reason. There is a strictly logical explanation for the apparition and the reason she has only been seen since the diptych was taken down. I’m only surprised that nobody else has noticed it. They were probably too afraid because they had just seen something that defied explanation.’

I ignored this slur on my courage and asked, ‘Would you care to enlighten the rest of us; the poor, terrified individuals who
have
seen the apparition and will be delighted to hear that it is all in their minds.’

‘
Enlighten
is an extremely appropriate word,’ Eve replied ‘and, if you would care to follow me, I will show you what I mean.’

She led us further into the Lady chapel and walked to the front, before gesturing to a small window on the wall to the left of the altar. It was a long, narrow aperture designed, I guessed to shed light onto the focal point of worship within the chapel. Despite Eve directing our attention to the window it was only after she pointed out a figure in the stained glass that we had any clue what she was referring to. It was that of a woman dressed from head to toe in grey, a miniature version of the vision I had seen.

‘I wandered in here while you were seeing to the diptych,’ Eve explained, ‘and after a while the sun came out. That was when I noticed that parts of the images in the stained glass of this particular window were being reflected on the floor of the chapel. Not only were they reflected but the angle of the sun hitting the glass created a magnifying effect. I believe that at certain hours of the day during various parts of the year the angle of the sun would be such that it would reflect
that
figure across the chapel, creating the image of the haunted lady that people have seen.’

‘What makes you think the apparition will cease to appear now that the diptych has been replaced?’ Michael asked.

‘It will continue to appear, but people won’t see it because the image will be blocked by the diptych.’

As an explanation, it was totally logical and rational enough to debunk the popular myth. Michael was delighted and said he would take great pleasure in informing his parishioners. The bishop was coming to re-consecrate the church and having the diptych replaced would add to the occasion. ‘It will quell the nerves of a lot of the older worshippers, many of whom refuse to sit on the pews at this side of the church for fear of seeing the ghost.’

As we left the church, Jäger paused in the porch and told us, ‘I have decided it is time for me to leave. My work here is done and now I know that Chloe’s future is settled. I will take with me only good memories of this place, and more importantly of the people here, especially you two. Your kindness and hospitality to me have left a warm place in my heart for you. I will continue to remember you in my prayers always.’

On hearing Eve’s translation, Chloe protested. ‘
Onkel
Isaac, you are the only member of my mother’s family. I cannot lose touch, now that I have met you.’

‘Don’t worry, Chloe dear, I will endeavour to remain in contact wherever I end up. For the moment, though, I have things to attend to; matters from the past that remain unresolved. Following that I will return to Germany.’ He paused, before adding with a rueful smile, ‘West Germany, I mean. After that, who knows? I have distant cousins living in New York and if things permit I might visit them, and perhaps make my future in America.’

We took him to Eden House where, after he had packed his bag, he asked for a taxi and was gone. We wished him well and watched him depart with real regret.

‘I don’t for one minute believe we have heard the last of Herr Jäger,’ I told Eve.

I could see she was puzzled by that remark but I couldn’t explain why I thought that way. After all, at that moment it was little more than a suspicion.

––––––––

A
lthough both Eve and I felt convinced that we knew who had committed the murders and their motive for the crimes, we were also well aware that there was absolutely no way of proving it. Certainly there was insufficient evidence to convince a jury, even if the prosecutors had been prepared to take the case to court. Nevertheless our quandary prompted much discussion, but despite this we were no nearer a solution.

It was only after five days had passed, when I went to the village shop to collect the morning paper that the beginning of a resolution became a possibility.

Eve had the kettle on for my return and, as we waited for the tea to brew, I scanned the headlines. I stopped after reading the first of them. ‘Eve, I think you ought to take a look at this.’

I handed her the paper and added, ‘And when you’ve done so, I think we should phone DI Hardy. I reckon he ought to know what we’ve found out.’

The article shocked Eve as much as it had me. Her response was strictly pragmatic, though. ‘This certainly solves one problem for us, don’t you think?’

‘I suppose it does, if our theory about the murders is correct.’

‘Why wouldn’t it be? Are you saying you now have doubts?’

‘No, not really, but, like everything else connected to this case, the question is how to go about proving a theory to the satisfaction of the police.’

‘Why not make that call anyway, Adam, and let’s hand it over to the professionals. They’re paid to worry about trifling details such as evidence.’

I smiled at Eve’s ironic slant on the investigative process, but went into the study to phone Hardy. Making the call was the easy part. Getting to speak to the DI was rather more difficult. Having been put on hold for what seemed an age, I was eventually told that Hardy was in a meeting.

‘Would you mind interrupting and giving him a message, please?’

‘I can’t possibly do that.’

The dismissive tone was enough to get my hackles rising. ‘That’s a great shame, because I was going to give him some important information but I don’t think I’ll bother.’ I saw Eve wince. That puzzled me because my tone had been polite throughout.

‘What information do you have that you consider is either important or urgent enough to interrupt Inspector Hardy?’

I’d had as much of this character’s dismissive attitude as I could take. ‘Please give him a message. Tell him that if he wants to learn the identity of the person who has committed the three murders he’s been investigating, he can read it in tomorrow’s paper.’

I hung up, but not before I heard a squawk of protest from the other end of the line.

‘Did you enjoy that?’ Eve asked.

‘More than the guy who answered the call will enjoy the rest of the day once Hardy gets to grips with what I told him.’ I explained what the man had said to upset me.

‘What do you intend to do about it?’ Eve asked. ‘Are you really going to phone the press?’

I glanced at the clock. It was a few minutes after ten o’clock. ‘I’ll give Hardy until one o’clock to work out who the call was from. Let’s see how good his deductive powers are. If he hasn’t called by then I will ring the press. Not locally, though, I’ll give Paul Faulkner the story and Hardy can read about it over his bacon and eggs.’

‘I never suspected you had such a sadistic streak in you.’

‘Do you think I’m wrong? Should I reconsider?’

‘I didn’t say that. The answer is no, and no. By all means go ahead with your threat if you haven’t heard from Hardy.’

The phone call didn’t come. Instead, Hardy arrived in person. Not only that but he brought DS Holmes and Johnny Pickersgill with him. The ‘posse’, as Eve termed them, arrived shortly after eleven thirty. Once she had let them in, Hardy asked her, ‘Was it you that phoned Dinsdale station and tried to get to speak to me earlier this morning?’

‘Actually it was Adam, but he got fobbed off by some pretentious twerp who refused to disturb you and that really got Adam’s back up. What was it that meant you couldn’t be disturbed? Were you trying to do the crossword or filling in your football pools coupon?’

I might have a sadistic streak as Eve suggested, but she definitely possesses a rich vein of sarcasm.

‘No,’ Hardy replied, ‘I take it you haven’t seen this morning’s headlines? We were busy trying to get to grips with the motive for the suicide of a wealthy and prominent local figure.’

‘Yes we have,’ Eve responded. ‘And if you had a more cooperative receptionist we would have been able to tell you much earlier not only the motive but the killer in your other cases.’

I had observed the exchange from the study doorway. During all this Johnny was studying the wallpaper with the interest of someone keen on DIY. At the same time, DS Holmes seemed preoccupied with his fingernails, and was possibly working out if they needed trimming.

Up to that point I hadn’t spoken, because Eve seemed to be doing well enough without assistance, but now I thought it time to intervene with an explanation. I stepped forward. ‘We’ve known, or rather suspected for some time who committed the murders, but we couldn’t say anything before because we had little or no proof to back up our theory. We still don’t, come to think of it. But luckily, I don’t believe a dead man can sue for slander, so we can tell you what we believe happened.’

Hardy gave a deep sigh. ‘Would you care to explain that, because I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about?’

When everyone was supplied with a drink we began our tale. I led off, knowing that it would take some time. Despite this, we felt it was important that they should learn all the background and so we tried to get every possible fact across to them.

‘As we’ve suspected all along, this dates back to the late fifties and into the early sixties, when Chloe Kershaw’s father Andrew was working as a British agent behind the Iron Curtain in East Germany. At some point during that time, which was prior to the construction of the Berlin Wall, Kershaw met and fell in love with Devorah, a young East German girl of Jewish descent.’ I deliberately left out her surname, an omission I was glad of later. ‘After several months, knowing that she was pregnant and only too aware of the precarious nature of his mission, they decided to try and cross the border to the West. The consequences if Kershaw had been revealed as a British spy can only be imagined. Having planned their escape carefully they brought with them six works of art that Devorah’s father had entrusted to them. These were concealed in a piece of cunningly wrought furniture. Two of them were later sold on Kershaw’s behalf by Mark Bennett, and our understanding is that the money raised from this would be used to pay for the freedom and escape of the rest of Devorah’s family’s. The money was, in fact, nothing more or less than a ransom. Sadly, the plan failed and Devorah’s family remained in exile in a Russian camp where we understand they almost all died. They were probably disgraced because the authorities frowned on Devorah’s liaison with a westerner.’

I paused to allow them time to dwell on what I’d told them so far, aware that there was much more to follow, before continuing by telling them how much the Bellini miniatures fetched.

‘The agent was Mark Bennett, who, along with Casper Harfleur, was also instrumental in helping Kershaw secrete the other artwork inside Dinsdale museum, hidden in a diptych recently re-hung in St Mary’s church. Thus far almost everything I’ve told you has been factual. The rest is mainly speculation, but much of it could be classed as informed guesswork.’

I looked across at Eve who was ready to take up the narrative. My nod was sufficient cue for her to continue. The first part had been agreed beforehand in a telephone consultation between Eve and Chloe. The reason for this, Eve had told her, was to avoid any mention of Chloe’s uncle, or, wherever possible, details about any of her mother’s family.

‘We believe,’ Eve told the detectives, ‘that when Chloe attempted to establish her identity, her research alerted someone to her whereabouts. This provided the link they needed to the family that had owned the art treasures. I’m referring to the man everyone refers to as “Lumsden”. Adam’s previous career gave him many valuable contacts, some of them in very secretive organisations. Adam used one of those contacts to discover that Lumsden was, in fact, Hungarian by birth. He had served in the Hungarian secret police before transferring to the Stasi, the East German intelligence unit. We believe that Lumsden, either acting on his own or with the knowledge and approval of the East German authorities, came to Yorkshire to recover those hidden paintings. It’s quite probable that he sought the assistance of a double agent living in retirement in this area.

‘As the agent in question tried to discover the whereabouts of the paintings, he encountered first Mark Bennett and later Casper Harfleur. One or both of them gave him clues as to the location before they were killed, which explains the failed break-in at Dinsdale museum. Luckily, we retrieved the paintings before a second attempt was made – not that I think they’d have been discovered anyway, they were so cunningly concealed.