Death in Damascus: A 1920s Murder Mystery with Heathcliff Lennox

by Karen Baugh Menuhin

  ‘Just after I arrived a letter came. Charles wrote that he had already gone on to Damascus and encountered the movie crew. He explained that he’d had no idea Josephine was going to be there, but that she was involved in the same ‘hunt’ he was. He claimed she made a false accusation of attempted murder against him.’

  ‘I assume the medallion was included in the letter?’ I asked.

  She nodded. Her hair fell forward and she swept it back again. ‘Yes, it was wrapped in the note I slipped to you. Jamal brought the package with Charles’s letter. I had never met him before but Charles trusted him.’ She turned her blue eyes to me. ‘Anyway, Charles instructed me to find the tomb robber and give him the medallion. Whatever information I received was to be used to negotiate his freedom from jail.’

  ‘So you came to Damascus and Fontaine told you Langton was in the Citadel and near to death?’ I said.

  ‘Yes, it was a terrible shock. I’d assumed he was simply being detained, but Fontaine made it sound as though Charles was failing by the day.’ She bit her lip. ‘I contacted Swift because I was sure he would know what to do.’

  ‘Why not me?’ I asked the question that had gnawed at me.

  ‘You must know why – how could I ask you to help me release my fiancé? It was nonsensical and…’ She paused. ‘And I didn’t want to put you to the test. Your feelings for me may not have been terribly deep, so why would you help me? Swift, on the other hand was with Scotland Yard, I thought he’d at least know the right people to alert. It just made sense.’

  I took her hand again. ‘What was his reply?’

  ‘He said he would go to London, talk to the Foreign Office and do whatever he could.’ She shrugged.

  It was my turn to fall silent. Swift hadn’t told me he’d been to London. I mused upon that for a moment, then asked, ‘Have you talked things out with Langton?’

  She shook her head. ‘No, but I believe I must.’

  ‘Well, when you do, you won’t forget about me, will you, old girl. Because… because… I…’

  ‘Yes, darling?’ she turned to gaze into my eyes.

  I was about to rise and take her up in my arms when…

  ‘Oh, there you are,’ Langton broke in.

  Chapter 24

  He strolled across the terrace, dressed in an immaculate pale blue suit with hand-made loafers, a club tie and a perfectly folded handkerchief in his top pocket. He glanced at his watch. ‘We’ll be late darling. I’ve told the restaurant we would be there at seven thirty and it’s close to that now.’

  ‘Charles!’ She jumped to her feet, a flush rising to her cheeks.

  ‘Damn it!’ I swore quietly.

  I didn’t move, merely held out my hand to her as she smoothed her dress down. She touched her fingers lightly onto my palm, bent to place a kiss on my cheek and went to join him. I didn’t watch them go, I stared into the night sky, seeing nothing.

  Fogg glanced up at me in sympathy then jumped into my lap. I smoothed the fur on his head.

  ‘Oh, there you are, Lennox!’ Swift came in with a light step, his trench coat undone, hands stuffed in pockets. He dropped into the chair vacated by Persi.

  ‘Pretty bloody obvious, Swift,’ I retorted.

  ‘Oh, do buck up, man!’ he sounded almost jolly. ‘Fontaine has admitted to Lady Maitland that he’s convinced Josephine killed the lawyer.’

  ‘Did he say why?’

  ‘Midhurst was here on behalf of the American Government. He was preparing to offer Qarsan a blank cheque – providing all negotiations with rival nations were cut off. That would have thrown a significant spanner in the works, so he thinks Josephine removed him.’

  ‘Hum,’ I mumbled, not surprised to hear the motive for his murder was the oil. ‘Does he know who murdered Josephine?’

  ‘Not as far as I’m aware.’ He fidgeted in his seat. ‘Do you have any idea?’

  I shook my head. ‘Did Lady Maitland tell you anything else?’

  ‘Not really, she’s a lady who plays her cards very close to her chest. I gave her the outline of today’s events, but she’ll receive a full briefing from Langton.’ He paused to glance at me. ‘Look, Fontaine has released Langton – we’ve achieved what we came here to do, Lennox.’

  ‘We still have to clear Persi’s name.’

  ‘Yes.’ He paused. ‘I saw her leave with Langton. You shouldn’t let it bother you. I doubt there’s anything in it.’

  I can’t say I wanted to discuss that or anything else, but I knew he was trying his best.

  ‘They needed to talk, or that’s what she told me.’

  ‘Well, it’s understandable,’ he replied.

  ‘You didn’t tell me you’d been to London, Swift,’ I threw in.

  His face fell sombre. ‘I assume Persi told you. It’s true. I did go to Scotland Yard but they dismissed me entirely – told me I was no longer with the force, and to keep my nose out of police business.’ He sighed quietly. ‘Anyway, I wasn’t prepared to give up, so, I scouted around and managed to find one of my old colleagues. He agreed to pass a message to the Foreign Office. He didn’t think anything would come of it, but I assume he achieved something because Lady Maitland turned up here.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ I demanded.

  He shrugged. ‘I was embarrassed, Lennox. They told me I should clear off back to my castle now that I was one of the nobs.’

  That must have stung, and it was unfair. ‘I’m sorry, Swift.’

  ‘Hum.’ It was his turn for a touch of the doldrums.

  I turned the subject. ‘Did you talk to the bath-draw boy?’

  That brought him round. ‘Ha! Yes, the bloody fool. He had been asleep on the job and had only woken up when he’d heard the shot and Josephine shout out. He saw the figure of a man race past him and go down the stairs. He said the man was wearing Langton’s coat and hat, but the only thing he really noticed was the shoes.’

  ‘I heard the same,’ I said. ‘Does it mean the coat fitted whoever it was?’

  ‘Possibly, but it may be that the clothes were western style and it didn’t mean much to him.’

  I nodded, thinking that was plausible.

  Swift continued. ‘We’ll have to measure Langton’s feet.’

  ‘He’s almost the same size as me,’ I told him. ‘I noticed his footwear when he came for Persi.’

  Swift leaned down to regard my shoes. ‘Vincent and Bing are quite short, I imagine they’ll be smaller than you.’

  ‘Um,’ I agreed. ‘What about Dreadnaught?’

  ‘I don’t know, we’ll take a look.’ He stood up suddenly and clapped his hands together. ‘Right, come on. Dinner will be on the table shortly and I missed lunch. You can brood later.’

  I didn’t want to move, but Foggy jumped down from my lap because he understood ‘dinner’ and a spaniel’s mind is very singular. I sighed, gave up and followed Swift and my dog downstairs.

  Foggy hadn’t met Napoleon before but he took to him in an instant. There was much barking, tail wagging and then they hared around the garden as we settled on the terrace to watch their antics with the assembled guests.

  Harry Bing left his lemonade to throw sticks, but the dogs were too busy frolicking to notice. Genevieve went to join in and I saw him quietly take her hand and they wandered off together, away from the colourful lights and the collective gaze of the guests.

  ‘I think you have lost your assistant, Lady Maitland.’ Mammie smiled archly. She was dressed in another florid frock of yellow and red with a string of glossy pearls around her neck.

  ‘Thought she was your niece,’ I said. We were gathered around a couple of circular tables, under the leafy rafters of the terrace. It was still warm from the heat of the day and softly lit by hanging lanterns.

  ‘I think that was another little subterfuge,’ Mammie remarked while
Lady Maitland retained a frozen disdain.

  ‘The frogs took my camera,’ Vincent complained in what may have been an attempt to change the subject. ‘I need that camera, it’s the best. They better bring it back or I’ll have the lawyer onto them.’

  ‘He’s dead,’ Swift chimed in, sipping from a tall glass of gin and tonic.

  ‘Oh yeah.’ Togged out in his customary checked shirt and braces, Vincent was puffing on a large cigar. I noticed Swift had taken a look at the various shoes on show.

  Dreadnaught strolled in. ‘Ah, good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Please do not get up.’

  ‘We wasn’t going to,’ Vincent replied, he was in an obnoxious mood.

  I looked at Dreadnaught’s feet, he was almost my size, but I didn’t think that ruled him out.

  ‘Ladies, Gentlemen,’ he clicked his heels with a bow.

  ‘Hello, dear boy,’ Mammie gushed. ‘Do come and sit by me.’

  Dreadnaught turned his handsome profile in her direction ‘Are we leaving tomorrow?’

  ‘We most certainly are.’ Mammie patted his hand as he took a chair next to her. ‘Back to Hollywood and we will have our new film to promote. It will be such a hit, I’m absolutely certain of it!’

  ‘But surely without the leading lady it will not be possible?’ Dreadnaught’s brow furrowed.

  ‘Nah,’ Vincent replied. ‘We’ll make it like a tragic accident, the public will love it. Bing can be the heartbroken dupe who shot her with the wrong gun. You wait till I start feeding this to the papers. It will make the front page.’ He laughed. ‘And the publicity will all be free.’

  ‘So you are keeping Bing on?’ I asked, unimpressed by Vincent’s tasteless scheme.

  ‘We are, Major Lennox. I insisted, didn’t I, Pappie?’ Mammie smiled again. ‘He has promised he will behave and now that he has that darling little dog, I know he will be just fine.’

  ‘And it seems he has a new romance,’ Dreadnaught remarked, nodding in the direction of the garden where Bing and Genevieve could be seen playing with the two dogs.

  ‘Perhaps she could become your new leading lady?’ I suggested.

  ‘Did you hear that, Lady Maitland?’ Vincent laughed. ‘How’d you like that, hey?’

  He received no response.

  ‘Now, Pappie,’ Mammie offered the mildest scold. ‘Lady Maitland does not like your teasing. And I’ve already told you, it’s the blonde one we need.’

  That caused me to sit up. ‘Persi?’

  ‘Yes, dear boy, but we’ll have to change her name. Why, I can’t even pronounce it myself.’ She laughed. ‘The camera will adore her.’

  Vincent leaned forward. ‘I persuaded her to take some stills before that frog stole my camera. She’s a real beauty. I’m gonna make her a star!’

  ‘I am not a ‘frog’, Monsieur Vincent.’ Fontaine had entered quietly from the shadows. ‘And I am here to return your camera, so you may not call me a thief either.’ He stared coldly, then nodded to the sergeant, who came forward to place Vincent’s camera on the table in front of him.

  ‘Yeah, whatever.’ Vincent blew cigar smoke in Fontaine’s direction.

  Lady Maitland addressed Fontaine. ‘I assume you will be returning our passports, too?’

  ‘What?’ I asked.

  ‘Colonel Fontaine has confiscated our passports,’ Lady Maitland delivered the news.

  That caused an uproar and everyone started shouting at once, including me.

  ‘Silence!’ Fontaine ordered. ‘Sit down.’ He waited until we were sat down. ‘Your passports will be returned.’

  ‘So hand ’em over,’ Vincent demanded.

  Fontaine looked down his thin nose. ‘When the murderer of Josephine Belvoir reveals himself, you will receive your passports,’ he said, then turned on his heel and left.

  More shouting followed, but I’d had enough and sought to escape. I went into the garden to call Fogg, both he and Napoleon came running over. Napoleon was tiny, no more than eight inches from paws to shoulder and I doubt he’d grow to half Foggy’s size. He was a sparky little chap though, bouncing around on hind paws, tufted white fur, pink tongue beneath a black nose and eyes as bright as buttons.

  ‘Lennox,’ Swift had come to join me. ‘We’ll put our heads together after dinner.’

  ‘Yes,’ I threw a small stick for the dogs. Fogg reached it first and Napoleon grabbed the other end to tug it away.

  We all sat down in the mahogany-lined dining room, under glittering chandeliers. It began as a noisy argumentative affair and faded into suspicious silence as we watched each other, wondering who’d done it. As we were about to be served dessert, the accusations started flying.

  ‘Bing shot her,’ Vincent declared, pointing a cake fork at Harry who turned pale. ‘I’m gonna tell Fontaine he can keep him and then we can leave.’

  ‘You unutterable cad!’ Genevieve retaliated on Bing’s behalf. ‘Harry is a gentle soul. He could never have harmed that woman, however much she deserved it.’

  ‘How would you know?’ Vincent argued back. ‘You only arrived the day before! And he did shoot her, we all saw him do it.’

  ‘That’s…’ Bing tried to protest, but Mammie cut him off.

  ‘Pappie is quite right. But, my dear,’ she turned to the ashen Bing, ‘I don’t think you are the guilty party. It could have been almost anyone.’

  ‘No, it couldn’t because the other gun disappeared before we or the ladies arrived,’ I replied.

  ‘Oh my,’ Mammie said. ‘I had entirely forgotten that.’

  ‘But we don’t know when you really arrived, do we,’ Vincent turned on Lady Maitland. ‘I don’t believe you came here from India.’

  Lady Maitland didn’t have a reply to that, because it was actually true.

  Genevieve rounded on him. ‘You really are insufferable.’

  I must say, I found her far more interesting now that she’d dropped the dizzy ‘flapper’ act.

  ‘Well, we need to leave, so someone must be given up,’ Dreadnaught said.

  ‘Yes, the murderer,’ Swift cut in.

  ‘Or whoever,’ Vincent replied through a mouthful of baklava. ‘They’ve arrested the blonde, they can keep her.’

  ‘Right,’ I threw my napkin on the table as mayhem broke out again. ‘That’s it!’

  Foggy was at my feet and he followed me as I stalked out without having touched a mouthful of my pudding.

  ‘Lennox.’ Swift came behind me. ‘Wait, this doesn’t help.’

  I slowed my steps to let him catch up.

  He continued. ‘Look, why don’t we order a pot of coffee and go to my room. We can go over the evidence.’

  ‘Hum, right,’ I agreed. ‘With baklava.’

  ‘Yes, yes, come on.’

  ‘And brandy.’

  He didn’t reply, he just led the way up to his rooms.

  Baklava and bitter-sweet coffee are the best combination imaginable, followed by a snifter. I felt a great deal better by the time I’d partaken and was sitting in a chair, warming my brandy with Fogg by my feet and Swift seated opposite.

  He’d taken all his notebooks out of the drawer, along with some papers he’d used to write down thoughts on everyone and his sketch of the map from Hanno’s house – which was quite good actually.

  He placed the map in the middle of the table. ‘This is what brought them all here. Oil.’ He patted a hand on the black spots near Bahrain and Kuwait, then picked up a sheaf of loose papers. He spread each page out in a circle, like the hours of a clock around the map in the centre. ‘I’ve written each person’s name on a single sheet as well as their activities as we know them.’

  I regarded it. ‘We don’t actually have any evidence, do we Swift?’

  ‘No, Fontaine has what little there is.’

  ‘Why the hell doesn’t he
solve it then?’ I was exasperated.

  ‘Because he’s a peace keeper, not a detective, Lennox. It’s down to us, so just concentrate, will you.’

  I did and it didn’t help.

  We went through everything we knew, including Qarsan’s oil scheme, the death of the lawyer, the disappearance of one gun, the planting of the Kongsberg-Colt and the bullets that killed Josephine, Fontaine’s subterfuge and our thoughts on Langton.

  ‘It’s the motive,’ Swift complained. ‘I cannot fix the damn motive.’ He slammed a hand down on the papers.

  We were both weary.

  ‘Swift, I’ll see you at breakfast,’ I told him. ‘Sleeping on it may help.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I mean, yes. Oh, hell. Goodnight, Lennox.’

  I bid him the same, suspecting that he wasn’t going to sleep much at all. I made my way with my little dog at my heels and my mind on Persi, wondering whether she had returned with Langton and what she had decided.

  ‘Ah, there you are, Major Lennox,’ a voice in the darkness greeted me as I entered my room. ‘I have been waiting.’

  Chapter 25

  Foggy growled, gave a short, not very brave woof, then hid under the bed.

  It was Qarsan, dressed entirely in black; black robes, black head-dress, black scarf and a large curved sword hanging from his waist in a black scabbard. He was silhouetted against the window, one foot up on a stool and emanating an air of disquieting danger in the unlit room.

  ‘Sit down,’ he ordered as though he owned the place – which, as I recalled, he did.

  I sat.

  ‘You, Major Lennox, and your detective friend Inspector Swift,’ he began.

  ‘Actually, he’s left Scot…’ I trailed off, because explanations probably weren’t a good idea. I shifted in my seat and asked. ‘What do you want?’

  ‘I want you to leave. All of you. It is necessary.’

  ‘To your plan to play off the governments?’ I replied.

  He laughed and ignored the remark. ‘The French Colonel is restraining you because of the killing.’