A Thief in the Night (18 page)

Baron Dieter von Merhof had played the rake for too long, and he knew it. He had had an epiphany, and, even in his cups, he knew it was genuine. He knew, deep in his bones, that his playing days were over, that he had been truly enchanted by the young woman, Cara Cabrelli. Even on waking up the next day with a sore head, he still smiled to himself when he thought of her. His manservant came in with eggs and toast, and the first thing the Baron said to him was, ‘Kasper … I am in love!'

‘Don't be foolish Sir. You have said that before, many times.'

‘Yes, but this time I really am. I never believed in it but it has happened!'

‘How old is the girl in question Sir?'

‘Oh, twenties – early twenties.'

‘Then you are in lust Sir. I know I may speak freely. You have known me for a decade.'

‘Of course, tell me more.'

‘There is no more to say. You are deluding yourself. When you are sober, think again, Sir.'

When Cara appeared at her next concert, a week later, the Baron was there. As she sang, he was moved to tears, and as she left the hall with her agent, he was there to give her flowers. ‘My dear girl, that was wonderful … I want to ask if you would have dinner with me? Just the two of us?' She accepted.

The gifts started to arrive the next day. First there were flowers then a necklace of diamonds and a tiara. Cara reported everything to Maria and the Septimus Society monitored progress. The opinion was that if this man was involved with the Nihilists, how could he find the time to woo a woman in such a way that his days were full of romance? He appeared to have no contact with any of the leaders of the Russians in the city. Detective Inspector Eddie Carney had him followed, and his days appeared to be no more than those typically allotted to bored sons of the rich. He gambled and he drank; he dined and he sat around in clubs, but he also visited shops and bought gifts – for one woman in particular.

Their first dinner went well, until Cara told the Baron about her husband. They sat at a corner table and she was treated like a Baroness; he had all the good manners of an aristocrat, with an ability to say exactly the right words every time he answered, advised or questioned her on her life.

‘I am most interested in the theatre. How did you become an actress?' he asked.

‘In England, acting was never a profession for a respectable woman, Herr Baron, but times are changing.'

‘You went to a school, to a college?'

Cara laughed. ‘No, my dear. Thespians here simply join a company and learn as they put in the time … I have a good voice, so I soon had interesting parts, but I have also swept the dust and cleaned the doors.'

‘You shall never do that again my dear!' boomed the Baron, and he was serious. Cara felt that he was genuinely revolted by her having to do such chores and judged it to be the perfect time to drop the bad news. ‘No, well, now I have a husband, I have no need to work. He is quite rich.'

The Baron stopped chewing and his chin dropped. His expression was one of sheer dismay. ‘My dear … this is not true! You are but a maiden, twenty-three perhaps? A girl!'

‘I have a husband. He's a lawyer. I'm so sorry, Dieter, I thought we were …'

‘Friends. You thought we were friends.
Ich habe eine liebesgeschichte in meinem
herz …
'

‘What? What are you saying Dieter?'

‘I said I have a love story in my heart. And now …' He stood up, apologised, dropped several notes on the table, and left.

Over the following week, wherever Cara went, the Baron was there. When she appeared in a new musical play by her friend Luigi Nolliti,
The Shepherdess Queen
, he was there. The same flowers always appeared at the stage door: a bunch of lilies, accompanied by a letter of love. She was aware that, as she walked to her home in Russell Square, he was a hundred yards back, ducking away out of view when she turned.

Cara began to fret that he would soon come to realise that there was no husband. The problem was discussed by the Septimus Club, and it was decided that George was the best candidate, as he looked as a lawyer might look, and he was young enough. He and Cara went for dinner, arm-in-arm, and although neither saw the Baron, Cara felt a tingle on the back of her neck, as though they were being watched as they walked home.

At the end of the second week, Cara was at home with her maid, dressing for the last appearance in
The Shepherdess Queen
. She was busy in her boudoir and Agnes, the maid, went in and out of the sitting room, fetching and carrying a number of little things that were needed. Finally, when all preparations were virtually complete, Agnes was sent for some gloves on the side-table in the sitting room.

As the maid entered the room there was a rustling sound from across the room, somewhere behind the wide sofa. She listened intently. There it was again. Her first thought was that it was a rat or some other vermin. But then, emboldened, she spoke to the room in general: ‘Whoever you are, come out from there!'

In reply, Agnes heard the words, ‘
Jedem das Seine … jedem das Seine
…' and then a crack. Peering over the sofa her eyes met those of the dying Baron. His last words were, ‘
Jedem das Seine
… each to his own, until Cara.'

When told the address of the shooting Eddie feared the worst, and all the way to Russell Square he expected Cara to be found dead. However, on his arrival he found the young actress weeping in her room, Agnes trying to comfort her.

Taking charge, he examined the Baron's body and searched his pockets. He found a pen, a packet of cigars, a ticket from some theatre, and a note scribbled on a piece of paper, which read:

DM thinks that he acted in a nasty and openly hostile manner last week at l's party, and he very painfully longs for forgiveness from all those who are your friends at the Grand Hotel. If DP is at the Grand on Monday 21, at 7, all will be resolved.

Eddie studied it but he could not immediately drag any sense out of it. The police work preliminaries were done, and death was confirmed as caused by a bullet to the brain. ‘The maid heard the shot, and there was nobody else here. The bullet went up through the chin and into the brain. All very clear cut,' said the surgeon, leaving the cleaning up to the constables.

That evening, Eddie showed the mysterious note to Lord George and Harry Lacey at the Septimus Club.

George glanced at it and declared, ‘He was mad with passion … it's nonsense!' Eddie challenged George to a game of billiards, and they left the professor alone in the library with the note.

Harry, on the contrary, gave the text the attention he would have given a manuscript scrap of Elizabethan verse. His frown was deep and his concentration hard before he exclaimed, ‘Of course! How stupid of me to take so long over it!' He ran to the billiard room, the note in his hand.

‘Edward Carney, call yourself a Detective Inspector! Look, it refers to a meeting at the Grand Hotel.'

Eddie was chalking his cue. ‘Well I got that, old man. But what of it?'

‘Wait … there's a word formed with the first five initial letters. It's one of those announcements you have in the
Daily Graphic
or even
The Times
– you know, when families have fallen out and so on, they have these cryptic notes published. This will have been in print along with a hundred other such notes.'

‘And?' Eddie asked, bored.

‘Well, the word spelled out is odd … it's “Dolly”.'

Eddie Carney had never moved so fast in his life. Chief Constable Williamson, he knew only too well, was to be given his retirement dinner and farewell presentation at the Grand Hotel on the Strand on Monday evening.

An emergency meeting was called for all those involved in monitoring the Nihilists – including members of the Septimus Society – and the note was circulated and discussed. Fred Maitland saw the importance of ‘DP' immediately and snapped our orders for Dmitri Pelriak to be found and brought in.

‘Then who is “DM”?' asked Maria, who had just arrived from a soirée.

‘Dieter von Merhof, I would suggest … the man who fell in love with our Cara,' Harry answered. ‘He was a key member of The Brothers of Rebirth, we know that now.'

Lord George took advantage of a momentary silence. ‘I say, what if it's not Pelriak? What if we arrest him and then some other DP turns up on Monday with a gun and points it at Dolly?'

‘Rest assured that I'll have my men all over the Grand on Monday,' Eddie said.

The police and the Home Office, with all the powers and men at their disposal, could not trace Dmitri Pelriak. When Monday came, Dolly Williamson called a meeting with Maitland and Eddie. Williamson was on edge and found it hard to sit down. It was now just a matter of hours before he walked out of the building for ever, and his long career as a police officer would come to a close.

The others sat and listened while the Chief Constable gave his summary of the situation. ‘Gentlemen, it now appears to be the fact, with new information, that the Baron was, shall we say, the trading depot between killers in the service of anarchist mayhem and those backroom sorts who never show their faces in public and who plot the most nefarious deeds, such as sending me to the next world. In addition, gentlemen, it seems that our rat has scuttled out of sight into his sewer. This Russian intellectual is nowhere to be found. In my experience, there is one reason for this: he is disguised. Yes, Mr Pelriak is most likely now walking around the East End with the appearance of a very hairy Jewish gentleman, or he could be a coster among a hundred costers screaming out the price of apples. You see my line of thought?'