The Concealers

by Janet Pywell

  He looks refreshed, and he’s changed into a clean white shirt and navy bowtie.

  ‘I’m here to cheer you both up. Look, see what I’ve got for us, a lovely bottle of Sancerre to go with our dinner.’

  ‘Pilfering?’ I say without looking up.

  ‘No, not at all. Herr Schiltz thought it was a good idea. I did suggest it, I said you’d all worked hard, and as a gesture of goodwill to go with this delicious game pie, it would be appreciated.’

  I look up, hiding a smile, wondering how he gets away with it.

  Julie looks at the label and appears impressed.

  ‘You’re so smooth, Hugo.’ She smiles.

  ‘What time are we eating?’ Paula comes into the kitchen a few paces behind Hugo.

  ‘The guests are eating at seven. We can sit down at the same time. We can keep an eye on them if they need anything.’

  I place the pastry over the first dish and trim the edges. Then repeat the same process for the game pie for the staff.

  Hugo winks. ‘That looks good enough to eat, Ronda.’

  Julie punches him with familiarity on the arm.

  Hugo pretends he’s injured and rubs his arm. ‘They’re in the library drinking pre-dinner gin and tonics. Are there any canapés?’

  ‘I’ll get them for you,’ Julie offers. She returns a few minutes later with trays of salmon blinis. ‘Here you go.’

  ‘My goodness, someone has worked hard this afternoon.’ Hugo winks at me and then turns his attention to Paula.

  ‘It looks like Louisa has been crying, is she alright?’

  ‘I think so. She says it’s hay fever.’

  ‘She’s also very quiet,’ insists Hugo.

  ‘She’s probably just tired.’ Paula studies her clipboard.

  Jim wanders into the room, and he removes his jacket and rolls up his sleeves. ‘What time is dinner?’

  ‘Seven,’ Julie answers.

  ‘I’ll wait.’ Jim pulls out a chair and sits at the table. Then he pulls out his phone, and I know that our conversation now will be guarded, and my mood darkens, I want to be at home.

  * * *

  I take the starter of fresh crab into the dining hall. My footsteps echo across the old flagstones and the conversation dies, as I feel their eyes on us.

  I’ve insisted on serving them because I want to see them all – I want to find some more clues that I can report back to Inspector Joachin. I don’t want him to think I haven’t done the best job.

  ‘This looks delicious,’ Fran says, as Julie places the starter in front of her. ‘I’m quite hungry now.’

  Mike remains silent. He tucks his napkin into his navy shirt collar. Gunter looks at his plate appreciatively, but his wife, Roma, doesn’t look up.

  Although it’s her birthday weekend, Louisa looks sullen and her eyes are sad. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘I’ve authorised a bottle of expensive wine for you to share in the kitchen,’ Herr Schiltz says.

  ‘So I believe, thank you. We shall enjoy that.’ I give a small bow of my head.

  ‘Well, it’s not cheap.’

  I gaze at Herr Schiltz.

  When I was eight, my father bought me a bicycle; a yellow one with a bell and a basket. He used the same tone with me – almost the same words – as Herr Schiltz uses now – it wasn’t cheap – as if I have to be eternally grateful. My father made me polish the bicycle each time I used it, even though it was barely dirty. I was forced to keep it clean, in good nick, and when I asked why, he looked at me like I was an imbecile.

  He replied, ‘Because when I sell it, I want to get my money back on it.’

  Julie nudges me, and pulls my sleeve, pushing me back toward the kitchen.

  ‘Where were you?’ she asks.

  I wait until we are safely inside with the door closed before I say, ‘He is such an obnoxious little—’ I stop.

  Jim is staring at me.

  Mac frowns.

  Paula looks up from her phone.

  Hugo spills a drop of wine on the staff dining table and curses quietly.

  ‘Come on,’ Julie says. ‘Let’s start our pie.’

  I pull the crusty-topped pie from the oven.

  ‘It looks delicious.’ Paula has finally put her clipboard to one side.

  The thought of having to serve Herr Schiltz again goes beyond my professionalism. I remember saying to Tina that I wasn’t ready for this. I didn’t want to come here, and this extra night is pushing me to my limit. But Tina had insisted. We both knew I had to get back to work, and this was supposed to be a good start. It isn’t as easy as I’d hoped it would be. I should have known, the minute I met Herr Schiltz in London warning bells had gone off, but I’d ignored them. I was desperate for the money, and the utter humiliation of knowing I’m here because I’m bankrupt and having to keep this secret from everyone is suddenly overwhelming and my eyes well up with tears.

  Mac speaks to Jim about the grouse season. Paula checks her notes on her clipboard, and then Hugo and Julie move between the kitchen and dining room with practised ease, as if they’ve done it hundreds of times before, clearing the starters and serving the main course.

  I can’t move. I hardly have the motivation to look up.

  Julie leaves the dirty dishes on the worktop, and she sits at the table. Suddenly voices in the Grand Hall are raised; an argument?

  I look up.

  ‘Where are you from, Paula?’ Julie asks. ‘You speak fluent German.’

  ‘Originally from America, but my father was in the forces, so we travelled a lot.’

  ‘So, where is your home now?’ Julie seems interested.

  ‘Just outside Berlin.’

  ‘Isn’t that where they had all the floods in the winter?’

  ‘That was a little further north.’

  ‘Is that near where Herr Schiltz has his home?’

  ‘Um, yes, actually it is.’

  ‘He was lucky not to be affected.’ Julie eats slowly.

  ‘His house wasn’t affected, but the riverbank burst and some of the buildings were washed away in the local town.’

  ‘I think I read about that,’ Julie says. ‘Houses, and a supermarket, and a bank.’

  Paula eats quickly as if she hasn’t eaten in days and speaks with her mouth full. ‘There was a problem because a lot of the safety deposit boxes got washed away and some people lost a fortune.’

  Julie asks, ‘Because they couldn’t find everything afterwards?’

  Paula says, ‘One man had a painting he’d stored in there – it was worth a fortune – and the floodwater ruined it.’

  ‘Was it covered on the insurance?’ asks Hugo.

  ‘They didn’t want to pay out, anyway, it would cost a lot to be restored, but it would never be the same, you know, with the smell of the river water …it makes an absolute—’

  ‘STOP!’ A cry comes from the dining room.

  Startled, Paula drops her fork.

  ‘I’VE HAD ENOUGH!’ Louisa shouts.

  Hugo rushes to the door and looks through the gap.

  Jim grabs his jacket from the back of the chair and hurries out of the back door and into the garden.

  ‘FOR GOD’S SAKE, FRIEDRICH! STOP PLAYING GAMES AND TELL US WHAT REALLY HAPPENED TO IRIS!’

  Chapter 18

  ‘I believe that mothers should tell the truth, even - no, especially - when the truth is difficult. It’s always easier, and in the short term can even feel right, to pretend everything is okay, and to encourage your children to do the same. But concealment leads to shame, and of all hurts shame is the most painful.’

  Ayelet Waldman

  When Gunter speaks in a quiet voice, Julie leaps to her feet, and Mac leaves the kitchen, following Jim by the back door.

  I stand with Paula and Julie, listening to the conversation in the Grand Hall.

  Gunter says, ‘She’s right! You owe it to me, Father. You owe me the truth. Iris is my mother. I am your firstborn.’

  Herr Schiltz sits motio
nless at the head of the table with Louisa on his right and Roma on his left. At the far end of the table, Gunter sits with Mike on his right and Fran, his wife, sits opposite him.

  ‘I owe you nothing. I owe none of you anything.’ Herr Schiltz waves his fork in the air, and he continues eating as if Louisa hasn’t shouted out.

  ‘Eat!’ he demands. ‘Eat, all of you. You will need sustenance after I’ve finished.’

  ‘Did you kill her?’ Gunter asks. ‘Did you kill my mother?’

  Herr Schiltz seems to contemplate his question. ‘Is that what you’ve thought for all these years?’

  ‘IS IT?’ Gunter demands.

  ‘Is that what you think of me – your father? That I’m a murderer and I killed my wife.’

  ‘Did you?’ Gunter asks.

  ‘No, but I can understand why you might think that.’

  ‘The fact that you discovered her body and there was no murder weapon – wouldn’t have made us suspicious?’ Gunter’s sarcastic tone is bitter.

  Beside me, Paula gasps. ‘I’ve never heard him speak to his father like this before.’

  ‘Well, there’s a first time for everything,’ I reply.

  When I turn around, I see now that the men have all disappeared. Julie, Paula and I are the only ones left watching the spectacle through the kitchen door.

  ‘I’ve told you my version of events many times—’

  Gunter interrupts his father. ‘Your version of events has gaping holes in it – as you well know – and even the police knew at the time. But without a murder weapon nothing could be proved, could it? But now it’s shown up, and quite frankly, Father, your face was a picture. It was as if you’d seen my dead mother all over again – so I will ask you again…’ He pauses dramatically. ‘Did you kill her?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Then who had the gun? Why did they leave it here on the table this morning?’

  ‘That’s what I have been asking myself. Who had the gun? Who has had it all this time?’

  ‘Well?’ prompts Gunter. ‘I thought your gorilla had the whole place wired with cameras to watch and control our every move. Didn’t Jim tell you who planted the package under the napkin?’

  ‘The camera had been turned deliberately away, to face the wall.’

  ‘He’s useless. He couldn’t even get that right!’ Gunter reaches for the wine bottle and sloshes the red liquid in his glass. He spills a few drops, and it drips onto the tablecloth, spreading like a bloodstain.

  ‘Do you have to be so vile, Gunter?’ Fran asks. ‘She wasn’t just your mother. She was your father’s wife and – my best friend.’

  ‘You’ve soon changed your allegiance, haven’t you?’ He laughs sarcastically. ‘You were supposed to be her friend. You’d had lunch with her that day, hadn’t you? Maybe you followed her back to the house and—’

  ‘Enough!’ Mike raises his hand. ‘We’re not going to sit around here speculating on who might have done it. There is no evidence to suggest that Fran or your father did anything. So, let’s get back to the point shall we, Friedrich? Who do you think put the gun under the napkin this morning?’

  Friedrich wipes his mouth with his napkin. ‘I’m assuming that the person who killed Iris must have kept the gun all these years.’

  Fran raises her glass to her lips. ‘That’s a reasonable conclusion.’

  They have all stopped eating. It’s another meal ruined, and I despair at the waste.

  ‘So, assuming the murderer kept the weapon – who would that be?’

  Mike leans back and surveys the faces at the table before adding, ‘We all flew up here, Friedrich. We couldn’t have got it through the airport, unless …’

  ‘Unless what? ‘Louisa looks up.

  ‘Unless whoever had it drove up, had it in their possession – in a car.’

  Beside me, Paula gasps and covers her mouth with her hand.

  ‘Who drove up?’ asks Roma.

  Mike stabs the cloth with his index finger. ‘Jim and Paula.’

  The colour drains from Paula’s face. Her eyes are round and frightened. She shakes her head and whispers, ‘I didn’t.’

  Gunter raises his voice. ‘I checked with Jim. He told me you wanted him here in case you needed a car urgently, and why would you want that, Father? Why would you need a car?’

  ‘Because of incidents like yesterday when I joined you late for the grouse shooting. I had business to attend to first. I didn’t want to hold my family back. It was easier for Jim to drive and us to fly.’

  Louisa is staring at her husband.

  Fran toys nervously with her napkin.

  Mike says, ‘It wasn’t absolutely necessary though, was it?’

  Herr Schiltz tilts his head to look at his business partner.

  Gunter stands up.

  Mike continues, ‘Perhaps you had Jim drive up to Scotland with the revolver, place it on the table to upset us all, then you could accuse whoever you wanted to of killing your wife – when you actually killed her yourself.’

  Herr Schiltz shakes his head. ‘I loved Iris.’

  ‘You didn’t love my mother,’ Gunter hisses. ‘You’ve never loved anyone other than yourself. Women are only a convenience for you. Look at Louisa, look at her! She’s eye candy for you. She didn’t want to stay after Mum died. She wanted to leave you, but she was frightened. And do you know why? Because she thinks you killed Iris too. She’s too scared to leave you. She’s been scared of you for five years.’

  Herr Schiltz turns to look at Louisa.

  ‘Is this true?’ he asks softly, but loud enough for us to hear in the kitchen.

  She raises her head and looks him in the eye, then very slowly she removes the expensive blue diamond ring he’d placed on her finger only last night.

  ‘Yes. I’m afraid it is.’

  * * *

  ‘Paula!’ Herr Schiltz sits at the head of the table and shouts, ‘Paula, where are you?’

  ‘Oh my goodness,’ Paula whispers. She’s shaking. ‘I’d better go in there.’

  Paula straightens her shoulders and walks confidently into the Grand Hall.

  ‘Yes, Herr Schiltz.’

  ‘Please have them clear this mess away. We’ve lost our appetite. If anyone wants dessert, they can have it later. Tell Ronda to leave it in the kitchen, and everyone can help themselves. In the meantime, we’re all going to the library. Tell Hugo to make sure there are drinks available…’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ Paula turns to leave.

  ‘And, one more thing.’

  Julie and I hold our breath.

  Paula waits.

  ‘I don’t want us to be disturbed.’

  ‘Very well.’

  Paula returns to the kitchen and whispers, ‘You heard him?’

  ‘Yes. It’s no problem. I’ll clear up after they’ve gone to the library,’ Julie says.

  ‘I’ll organise dessert,’ I add.

  My hands are shaking. The mention of the gun and the mystery of who put it there is still a secret – my secret. I’m curious to see how this is playing out and how Mike has come to the logical conclusion that they’d never have got the gun through airport security.

  I’m fortunate that Hugo moved the camera. I’ve been lucky, and I’m overcome with a sense of euphoria only interrupted by the thought that Herr Schiltz now seems to be implicated in Iris’s murder.

  Could this be true?

  Did Inspector Joachin suspect this?

  Perhaps Herr Schiltz did hide the gun in the bank. If he put it in the bank safety deposit box and it got washed away during the heavy storms in Germany, then it would make sense. The police found it, and that’s how it came into the possession of Inspector Joachin.

  Which would mean that Herr Schiltz probably did kill his first wife.

  * * *

  After the guests are nestled in the library, the dining table is clear, and I’ve organised dessert. Julie is stacking the dishwasher.

  ‘I’ve got tummy cramps, Julie. Is it o
kay for me to leave you to tidy up?’

  ‘No problem,’ she replies.

  I can tell she’s not happy. She also thinks I’m lying.

  I wait until she goes into the Grand Hall for a last tidy up and I’m alone in the kitchen and then I run up the backstairs. I find the secret panel, the secret door clicks open, and I step inside; moving quietly and slowly I find my way, using my phone torch. A hand comes out of the darkness and grips my wrist. Another covers my mouth.

  Instinctively I twist away.

  ‘Shush,’ Hugo whispers angrily in my ear. ‘Turn off the torch.’

  ‘Move over.’ I push him, but he’s solid muscle.

  Then he shifts his position to let me peer through the slats as we did before, crouched uncomfortably, shoulder to shoulder, breathing in each other’s stale air.

  In the library, Herr Schiltz’s voice is measured and calm. He stands in front of the others like a teacher.

  ‘I’m going to tell you the events of the night my wife died. I’ll ask you all to trust me. I have never lied to you before. I have always looked after my family, but on this occasion, I think you’ll agree with my actions.’

  Louisa and Fran sit together on the sofa. At right angles, on two single chairs, Gunter sits with Roma. Only Mike sits alone in a chair with his legs crossed nursing a brandy.

  ‘On the day of Iris’s death, she and Fran went shopping. They had a late lunch and Iris returned home just after four o’clock. I don’t know what she did for those few hours until I arrived at our home a little after seven, but when I opened the front door, she was lying on the floor in the living room – dead.’

  Fran shakes her head.

  Louisa stares at her husband.

  He adds, ‘There was a note—’

  ‘A note?’ Louisa cries. ‘A note?’

  ‘Yes. I didn’t see it at first. All I could see was Wilhelm crying.’

  ‘Wilhelm was there?’ Gunter says. ‘He was in the house?’

  Herr Schiltz holds up his hand and waits for silence before he continues.

  ‘He had arrived minutes before me, but I didn’t know that at the time. I saw him crying. He was distressed. Jim had dropped me at home, and he hadn’t gone far, so I called him back. I put Wilhelm in my car and told Jim to drive him home. I also gave Jim the murder weapon. I gave him the gun, and I told him to take it to the bank first thing in the morning and put it in the safety deposit box.’