He paused briefly and then continued. ‘Because of the possible, indeed probable, identity of one or both bodies and their location within the old Dolphin theatre, our working hypothesis is that the killer, or killers, were either members of the DeLancy family or had very close links to them.
‘That said, if the figure in the plasticised sheath does turn out to be a) human and b) Ariana Kujenikov, we must also consider, that any motive, for what would then be two murders, may lie within her own family or someone from her previous life. To be frank, though, due to her extreme youth, that scenario, at present, seems less likely than a motive associated with her time at the theatre. Nevertheless it’s a possibility we have to keep in mind.
‘The eighth aspect, and by no means the least puzzling, is not just the reasons for, but the speed and ease with which the whole theatre was not only closed overnight, but then followed almost immediately by the swift erection of an entire warehouse complex around it. Eddy Jebson, who, obviously, knows the site well, told Colin it could, surprisingly, all be done by as few as six to ten men, if they were highly experienced and, depending what equipment they had available. Even so few, however, would, presumably, have been seen or heard by someone. Also, even, fifty years ago, there were regulations and procedures in place governing how and when such work could be carried out.
‘The warehousing, as you know, is currently being dismantled. This, in itself, is another perplexing aspect of the affair, as that, itself, is only occurring following the express instructions of a mysterious company. Why, and who owns that company, are two questions we will, after this briefing, be pursuing with the firm of solicitors who instigated the work.
‘You all have your specific jobs to be done,’ he concluded, closing his file, ‘so we’ll leave it there for now. Unless anything startling happens during today, we’ll meet up again at the same time tomorrow.’
Chapter 24
‘The results from the two sets of DNA samples, guv,’ said Bulmer, two days later as he entered the office he and his DI shared. ‘They send their apologies again for the delay. There was some sort of contamination, so they had to re-do them, apparently,’ he added, shaking his head in disgust. Calderwood, looking up eagerly from the reports he was reading, reached for the flimsy piece of paper being held out to him and scanned it quickly. He’d been absent the previous day at a meeting in HQ. It was, he knew, one of a number he’d have before he left the county to take up his new post in six months’ time.
‘Well, well,’ he said, his eyebrows raised in surprise. ‘That settles that, I think; for both of them,’ ‘The sculpture is what we thought and the figure is human. We must assume it is Ariana, but I wish we had some DNA to hand to corroborate it is her. Pity she didn’t leave any of her belongings behind when she... did whatever she was planning. If she was planning anything,’ he added, sombrely. ‘We’ll have to wait until we ourselves visit the family; another delay, but it can’t be helped. When we asked the Met. to inform the family of The Dolphin’s re-appearance, out of courtesy, we weren’t sure it was a body, so we couldn’t set that hare running.’
‘True enough, Guv, but that may not be a problem.’
‘Really?’
Bulmer nodded. ‘Yes. I’ve just got back from the front desk, where a lady was asking to see someone in connection with the case,’ he explained.
‘Who is she?’
‘She says she’s Elena Kujenikov – Ariana’s mother.
Chapter 25
‘Thanks,’ said Calderwood as they walked down the short corridor towards the interview room, passing back a second sheet of paper Bulmer had just handed to him.
‘Countess Kujenikov,’ he said courteously as they entered the small room, having asked for a water jug and glasses to be brought in.
Bulmer mentally shook his head. Although he’d worked with the young DI for nearly two years, he’d never got used to his ability to speed-read, absorbing huge amounts of information at a ferociously fast rate. Calderwood had scanned the sheet of paper, which listed what they’d discovered about the family in his absence, for only the few seconds it took them to walk down the corridor. Yet, he was totally its master by the time they’d entered the cramped interview room.
The somewhat heavy-set woman sitting at the small table, looked up and smiled. As she did so, the reality of an ordinary, ageing and stockily built woman disappeared and Arian’s smile flickered around her lips; though not in her eyes, from which, both men suspected, it had been absent for decades. They noticed something else, too. Despite her unassuming dress, her advanced years and obvious pain, she possessed an indefinable air of breeding of the kind that was bone-deep, unconscious and required centuries to possess. Someone like Estelle Carradine hadn’t a hope in hell, coming across, by comparison, as shallow and common, despite the money she spent on clothes and surgery, thought Bulmer fleetingly, as they took their seats.
‘Your research is very thorough...’ she paused.
‘Robert Calderwood, Inspector Robert Calderwood, and,’ he added, turning to Bulmer, ‘this is my colleague, Detective Sergeant Colin Bulmer.’
‘But it isn’t quite correct in one matter,’ she continued as she nodded, courteously acknowledging the introductions.
‘Indeed?’ queried Calderwood, surprised. He knew Cerian was usually meticulous in checking every fact she unearthed before passing it up to him or Bulmer.
‘Yes. I no longer use the title. I haven’t since my husband died.’
‘May I ask why?’ Calderwood queried, genuinely interested.
‘I used it when Igor, my husband, was alive, because he wished me to. Once he was dead, there was no further need. My own family had stopped using their titles the day the Tsar was murdered, vowing never to use them again until a successor ascended the throne,’ she explained. ‘So, once I was widowed, I returned to my family’s way of doing things.’
‘So, how do you wish to be addressed? Mrs? Madame?’ responded Calderwood, nodding politely.
‘Perceptive of you, Inspector! Yes, “Madame” I’m happy with, thank you,’ she bowed her head slightly at his courtesy.
‘May I ask why you’ve travelled to Estwich, Madame? I understood that the Met. were keeping yourself and your family fully informed as the situation here develops?’
‘Oh yes, they were – are – and very well too. It’s merely that another day passes and the press keep printing all sorts of rumours, often, it seems, reported as facts! I just felt I’d like to speak, first-hand, to someone who is actually in charge of the investigation.’
Calderwood nodded. ‘I understand, Madame, but I doubt there’s a great deal more, at this juncture, that we can add to what the Met. are telling you.’
‘Reports say that there has been one body found, a male, and that searches and enquiries were continuing to discover whether any more... remains... were in the theatre, but that so far none have been. Is that correct?’ she pressed.
‘There was no certainty that a second body existed, that’s true,’ he began.
‘Was?’ she queried quickly.
‘Yes,’ he nodded, having already decided that the grieving woman deserved as much disclosure as was possible. ‘We received, literally minutes before you arrived, confirmation that the presence of a second body has been confirmed,’ he said quietly.
‘And... and is it Ariana? ‘ she asked suddenly.
‘We aren’t, as yet, able to make any formal identification,’ he said, picking his words carefully.
‘Oh... Oh I see. Of course, stupid of me, after all this time...’ Her voice faltered and she fought to control it. ‘I’m sorry, Inspector. I assure you I’m usually stronger than this. Much stronger!’
Looking at her ramrod stiff posture, despite what he knew were her almost ninety years, he didn’t doubt it.
‘Unfortunately, we have, as yet, no DNA samples to work from,’ he explained.
‘DNA? Ha! Yes, of course. Modern science! You can, naturally, have what you need from me
. That would help, yes?’
‘Yes, thank you, we’ll make arrangements to take a sample before you leave.’
‘So quickly?’ she asked, obviously startled.
‘It’s a very simple procedure; merely a swab from the inside of the mouth,’ he re-assured her.
‘So little!’ she marvelled, ‘to tell so much!’ She paused and then looked straight at the young DI, the grey of her eyes, suddenly as sharp as sword-points. ‘You said you can’t yet make a formal identification?’ she pressed.
‘That’s correct,’ Calderwood confirmed, his voice neutral, giving no indication that he knew her next question and was dreading it.
‘But you’ve found... something… to make you think... believe... that it may be her – yes?’
Calderwood nodded. ‘But I can’t go into details, at this juncture,’ he added, forestalling her next, inevitable, query. ‘I’m sorry, genuinely sorry.’
‘I understand,’ she replied, with an immense dignity, mixed with deep sorrow. ‘It’s been fifty years, so a little longer is neither here nor there. ‘So, please, ask your questions,’ she added quietly. ‘I’m sure you have some,’ she continued; more a statement than a question.
Calderwood nodded again. ‘Yes, indeed we have, Madame, and thank you for your forbearance.’
She shrugged away his thanks. ‘My family, and many like us, have, over the last century or so, become used to accepting that which we cannot change,’ she replied with a small smile.
‘We, as yet, know nothing of your daughter’s life before she came to Estwich,’ Calderwood continued. ‘Nor, indeed, do we know what brought her here in the first place. So anything you could tell us would be very helpful.’
She bowed her head and, the stoic facade rigidly back in place, began a story which had its beginnings more than five decades previously. ‘Although we’d lost much in the revolution, my family had, unlike so many of the old families, always kept funds in other European capitals; not huge amounts, but more than adequate to fund a comfortable life away from the Motherland. At first, my grandparents and parents spent lavishly, thinking that they would soon be able to return, when “this nonsense” – my grandfather’s words! – was over. Well, he was wrong, as events made very clear, so the family reined in its spending and continued to live well, certainly far better than the majority of our fellow exiles. So, when we children were born, we also lacked for nothing. Then, in the fullness of time, my own children also lacked for little and we gave them as happy a childhood as was possible with our hearts bleeding for a return that was never going to be possible under the Bolshevik butchers. I say all this,’ she explained, ‘to show that Ariana and her two younger brothers had a happy and secure childhood. Everything we could give them, we did; we also ensured that they had the discipline needed to avoid becoming spoilt, as we saw the children of some of our circle become. Thank you,’ she said, taking the glass of water Bulmer handed to her. After a few welcome sips, she continued. ‘I know every parent thinks it of their children, but Ariana really was the most beautiful and gifted child,’ she said softly, her eyes making it clear that she was no longer in the room with them. ‘Her blonde hair and blue eyes, almost the colour of violets, made her the prettiest child in any gathering. But more than that, much, much more, was the sweetness of her nature. I’ve never come across any other child, or, indeed, adult, that radiated such gentleness,’ she paused.
Neither of the two police officers said anything. It was clear to them both that Elena Kujenikov had a story she had waited over half her lifetime to tell and they had no need to prompt her.
After the briefest of pauses, the old lady continued. ‘She loved all the things a child does, but as she grew older, everything gradually fell away, until all she had left was dance. I still remember what she said to me when I asked her why she was giving up everything a child normally loves.’
Her voice, until that moment almost conversational, faltered briefly until, with a deep breath, she brought it back under control. ‘She said, “but Mama, dancing is everything to me, everything.”’ The old woman stifled a sigh. ‘We didn’t realise how literally she meant it until, when she was about fifteen or sixteen, she announced that she wanted to convert all the various lessons she was having into a full-time course, after which she planned a career on the stage.’ She shook her head sadly at the memories. ‘It was like a thunderbolt hitting the family!’ She reached unsteadily for the glass of water again and took a few more sips before continuing.
‘My husband was very – how do you say? hidebound – and he forbade it. Don’t misunderstand, Inspector, he was neither hard nor cruel. He always said that he loved all his children equally, but I suspect that Ariana was his special one. The way his eyes softened when they rested on her, told its own story. But,’ she continued softly, ‘he simply couldn’t countenance a daughter of his family going on the stage. Dancing for both pleasure and socially was acceptable, performing on a public stage most definitely was not! He flatly refused to even consider the idea. I, too, was against it, though for different reasons. Back through the years, many men of my family had been eager theatre-goers, though less as devotees of the arts and very much as devotees of the young ladies! I was frightened for Ariana to be in that world. She was too young, too innocent. It frightened me and I thought I could protect her from it.’
‘How did she react? Did she argue, fight against your refusal? Calderwood probed quietly.
‘Oh no! Ariana was too gentle to argue with anyone, especially her father, but we’d badly underestimated how absolute was her desire, her need, to be a dancer.’
‘What happened next?’ Calderwood asked gently.
‘What happened? The inevitable, Inspector, the inevitable; in September 1964, she ran away.’
‘You looked for her, of course,’ he said, a statement not a question.
‘Oh yes! We assumed she’d head for London, so we and our agents combed the theatres, from the largest in the West End, to the smallest, most obscure ones, existing on what we discovered was called the “fringe”. We also searched every hotel and boarding house, even the streets, everywhere we could think of. We then tried many of the bigger towns, even seaside resorts, anywhere there was a theatre or school of dance – but nothing.’
‘Did you report her missing to the police at any stage?’
‘Yes, and they were sympathetic, but, because of her letter, there was little they could do, other than keep a routine watch out for her.’
‘Was it not out of character? As you say, she was gentle, even biddable, so wasn’t it something so totally unimaginable to her, to rebel so absolutely by leaving home so suddenly, without any warning?’ Calderwood asked, struck by the apparent paradox.
The elderly woman nodded her head. ‘That had been our first thought, also’ she confessed, ‘but a day or so after she’d left, we received a letter explaining her thinking. And before you ask, Inspector, it had a local postmark, she’d thought everything through, as – too late – became obvious to us. Here, I still have it,’ she said, opening her handbag and handing him a yellowing, but still elegant, sheet of paper.
Silently he opened and read it:
My dearest, dearest Mama and Papa,
I am so very, very sorry to do this to you. I’ve thought and thought how I could remain a dutiful and loving daughter and still achieve my heart’s desire – no, the need of my very soul – and become a dancer. Both you and my dream mean so very much to me that my heart is torn in two.
But choose I know I must– and have.
I have removed the money from my savings account; there is quite a large sum as you will know, as it was there due to your generosity over the years. I mention this to reassure you that I will be able to support myself until I become established as a dancer – as I will, dearest Mama and Papa, as I will. When that happens, I will return to you, if you would still wish to see your disloyal, but ever loving, daughter.
Ariana
‘A beautifu
l letter, Madame, though a bitter blow to you both, of course,’ he said quietly, as he refolded the letter. ‘I don’t think we’ll need the letter itself, but I would like to take a copy, with your permission; we’ll return it immediately, of course,’ he added, seeing her hesitate. Reassured, she nodded and he passed it to Bulmer for photocopying before she left the building.
‘And that was the last you ever saw or heard from your daughter?’ Calderwood asked, phrasing it as a question, though fairly sure he knew the answer.
‘Oh no, Inspector. We, or rather, agents I’d employed, did find her, several months later, ‘ she replied quietly.
Chapter 26
‘You found her!’ Calderwood repeated, stunned. ‘You saw her? Spoke to her?’
‘Saw her, yes, spoke to her, no,’ she responded, in a voice heavy with bitter regret. ‘I arrived in the town in the evening. I’d been told where the theatre was and my first intention was to go straight there and see her; but when I arrived, I saw the posters outside the station. I saw her picture, saw her looking so radiant, so obviously in her proper world – and so obviously a star in that world – that I decided I would watch that night’s performance. That way I could see her with no pressure or expectations on either side.
‘So you did see her dance?’
‘Oh yes, but the train had been badly delayed, so I was very late and I caught only the last two or three minutes of what had been billed as a series of six dances.’
‘You saw the six dances?’ Calderwood asked, startled.
‘Yes, Inspector, in a performance which, I discovered later, was danced by my daughter, the evening before she... what? That is the question I’ve waited fifty years to have answered,’ she responded bleakly. ‘I saw only a fragment,’ she continued. ‘But, little though it was, it was sublime. I knew, from the first moment I saw her on that stage, that my husband and I had made the gravest mistake of our lives.’
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