The Dorich House Mystery (The Ralph Chalmers Mysteries Book 3)

by P. J. Thurbin

  Grant listened until Ralph had finished.

  “You academics; always puzzling things out. Sometimes you miss the point completely. Look, I suppose it won’t make any difference if I tell you what actually happened; there are no witnesses and I will deny that I said anything, of course. In my business you try to stay within the law but sometimes things go beyond your control. But it was unfortunate that Rabinsky died. I went there to offer him a bloody good deal if he would just keep quiet about there having been a mix-up with the paintings. That fool Scott caused a lot of trouble. Rabinsky said he was going to call the police and I tried to stop him and in the struggle I must have gone a bit too far. I hit him and he just crumpled. I didn’t even hit him that hard, and I certainly had no intentions of killing the old man; it was the last thing I wanted. I was just trying to stop him from telephoning the police before I could explain why there were two sets of paintings and why I really didn’t want that information to get out. But he came at me like a madman. You see, Boris and I had been setting up the sale of those three paintings for some time. He got the Chechen guys to think that they may have been painted by one or other of the Russian Masters. That would make them worth five times the price they would normally expect to fetch at auction. So we played up this story by arranging some attempted break-in’s at Dorich House. The mafia guys went for the story and Boris bought the paintings, as you know, and passed them over to them. We both did very well out of that.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t say that Boris did so well out of it in the end,” Ralph observed. “Especially if he was killed by those same clients when they found out that they were unattributed after all.” Ralph was getting anxious that Linham had not turned up and kept glancing around. Grant went on seemingly unperturbed.

  “Yes, that was a pity. But Boris knew it was risky dealing with them and as far as I was concerned, a buyer was a buyer and their money was as good as anyone’s. The copies that Beatrice had made were then to be used to swap for the originals hanging in the Hermitage when they were being shipped over for the exhibition this spring. John Weston was in on the whole thing and he was responsible for arranging with whoever got the shipping contract to do the swap. Then we would demand a high price for the return of the originals to the Hermitage. They wouldn’t be able to refuse, as the scandal would be too much, even for the Russians.

  But unfortunately poor old Boris got himself killed and now Scott’s been arrested because of those icons he smuggled into France, and now John’s got cold feet about making the swap, especially as he has Beatrice’s copies in Cairo already. So you see Ralph, it was all a pretty elaborate plan that you walked in on. It’s a pity because you could have been part of our organization; two Cambridge colleagues beating the system. It’s not too late, you know, we could get you a ticket and no one need be the wiser.”

  “You seem to be forgetting that you killed a man.”

  “Well that was unfortunate, but these things happen when you play for high stakes. The worst case scenario is that I might be charged with manslaughter but I have no doubt that a good barrister could successfully argue that it was self-defense and that Rabinsky had attacked me in one of his rages. Even so, the most I would serve is a couple of years, not bad pay at 3 million a year and that is just from the Christie’s auction. I have some pretty top barristers working for me on various deals. You would be surprised at how many of that upright profession are up to their eyeballs in all sorts of naughty games. Look Ralph, I expect that you want to go and tell the police all about your discoveries. That Inspector Linham might even recommend you for an award or something.” He laughed and patted Ralph on the shoulder. “When I get back from Moscow, no doubt the police will be waiting at immigration, or I might even decide to turn myself in. It would all be quite melodramatic, don’t you think?”

  With that Grant got up and went to shake hands, but thought better of it when Ralph didn’t make a move to extend his. He walked off towards the passport control area where Ralph knew he would be stopped by the airport police once he showed his passport and e-ticket. The whole affair had exhausted him, but at least he the mystery surrounding Rabinsky’s death had been solved and Ralph felt certain that his killer would soon be apprehended. He decided that it would be a fitting end to the whole affair if he finished the last of the champagne while he tried to phone Katie to tell her what had happened. As he was dialing he looked up to see Inspector Linham running towards him.

  “The blighter never turned up at passport control and that flight to Moscow left an hour ago. He must have smelled a rat and made a run for it. We’ve got all the other flights checked and the airport police have closed all the exits so we will catch him for sure.”

  Ralph realised that Grant had been bluffing all the time. He must have guessed that he had alerted the police when he pretended to telephone Katie and had suckered Ralph into believing he was seriously considering his alternatives rather than bolting and . possibly attracting attention to himself. Ralph could kick himself. Instead of getting on his high horse and confronting Richardson he should have waited for the police. Now Richardson had played him just as though it was a game of chess. Ralph’s only consolation was that at least Linham was confident that they would catch their man. He sat at the bar surveying the scene of the rich and powerful as they consumed champagne, smoked salmon and caviar.

  “These are some of the people I go to work every day to protect,” said Linham. “For a lot of them it’s just a game. But sometimes people get hurt in the process, and poor buggers like Ivan Rabinsky never know until it’s their turn to be someone’s pawn. You did a good job finding out about that cab-driver, Professor. Without that, Richardson would have got away and Interpol would still be on to me to find a Chechen gang to arrest for Rabinsky’s murder. I think the sooner Richardson is locked up the safer he will be from any attempts the mafia might make to silence him, not that it wouldn’t be his just desserts if they did.”

  Ralph suddenly remembered what Grant had told him about John Weston having the modern copies and that he was going to swap them with the originals when they were shipped over to England. He explained to the Inspector what Grant had said.

  “Yes, we know all about Mr. Weston purchasing the modern copies from Richardson. So far he hasn’t broken any laws, so there’s nothing we can do other than alert Interpol. But I expect they and the Russians are focusing on catching Boris Sarovsky’s killers. Why don’t you go on home now, Professor, and leave us to deal with Richardson.”

  Ralph was feeling tired as he made his way back to the car park. But when he got to the slot at level two where he had parked it, his car was gone. At first he thought he may have gone to the wrong level, but no, level two slot 58, he had written it down on a slip of paper and put it in his coat pocket along with his car keys. He felt in his coat pocket for his keys. They were gone. Then it dawned on him that when he went to phone Linham he had left his raincoat at the bar and Grant must have taken his keys and the parking ticket.

  Ralph phoned the Inspector on his cell phone and alerted him as to what had happened.

  “It’s been three quarters of an hour since he left the airport,” Ralph said. “He could get pretty far in that time.”

  “Don’t worry, Professor, that motor of yours is pretty easy to spot. I’ll put out an all points out on it and Richardson, but my guess is that by now he is probably heading for Dover, hoping to sneak under the radar to get out of the country. Meanwhile I’ll have one of my men give you a lift back to Surbiton.”

  As Ralph was driven home he had visions of Grant sitting back enjoying Mozart on his CD player. He just hoped that when the police finally caught up with him the car would still be in one piece. After thanking the officer who deposited him in front of his apartment he went inside and collapsed in his easy chair. It had been a long day. He decided to wait and telephone Katie until he had had a chance to think through everything on his own.

  ____________________

  Chapter 12
r />   It was one of those evenings where Ralph found it impossible to relax. He found himself torn between going for a long run and going in to college to see if any of his friends were chatting in the bar. He chose the latter. It meant getting the local K3 bus to the college, but at least he would be out mixing with people. He was beginning to realize that he missed the daily interchange with students and colleagues, but that was not something that anyone ever spoke about; admitting that you were dependent on the company of others for your sanity was definitely not the British way. The campus driveway was lined with rhododendron bushes in full bloom and the warm Spring evening accentuated their scent. As he walked towards the lights of the college buildings he was looking forward to meeting up with his old friends. He hesitated just for a second before pushing open the door to the staff common room and bar. He had that momentary feeling of being an outsider even though he had been on sabbatical for less than 6 months. He soon realised that his fears were sorely misplaced.

  “Hey look whose here. You’re a sight for sore eyes, Ralph.” Peter grabbed him by the arm. “Come on mate, you’re just in time to buy the next round. These stingy buggers have been keeping their hands firmly in their pockets all night and I don’t think my bank manager will spring for another loan to cover my tab.” Everyone laughed at Peter’s infectious humour and boisterous good spirits.

  “So what is everyone drinking?”Ralph asked looking around at his friends.

  “Don’t waste time asking them Ralph, or we will be here all blooming night. David’s on the white wine, as usual. And Lance is still weaning himself off Kiwi beer and braving English lager. My preference is a whiskey but as you’re buying, I‘ll settle for a Heineken. My bit to keep the economy going for our trading partners,” said Peter.

  Ralph remembered that Peter was not one to defer to the niceties of political correctness. David stepped in.

  “Ralph what’s the story about that fellow Richardson? First I saw his name being talked around as the best thing since sliced bread, what with Granger having him here to speak to the students, and the next thing I hear is that the police are looking for him in connection with that murder in Belgravia. Do you have the real scoop?”

  Ralph told them how Richardson had fooled him at the airport and escaped by stealing his car.

  “All I’m interested in now is a rest from all the mayhem and to get my car back in one piece.”

  “Still nothing on your car?” Lance asked. You’d think that thing would stand out like a sore thumb.”

  “Inspector Linham thought that Richardson might have used it to get out of the country on the ferry from Dover. But the police found it abandoned at a private airfield where Richardson had previously arranged for a plane to fly him to a small airfield near Lille in Belgium where he probably caught a train to Germany, but there the local police had lost him. At the moment it’s still down at the police station where they are checking it over for possible clues to Richardson’s whereabouts, but I should get it back soon, and then I can take it to my mechanic to check it over for any possible damage. Thankfully I have full coverage insurance, but of course I would prefer to have my car back in one piece.”

  “Perhaps something a bit more modern would be just the thing to raise your profile with the students,” Peter joked. “That is if you ever decide to come back from your coveted sabbatical and pull your weight on the teaching timetable.”

  “Just so you don’t think this sabbatical is some sort of lark, I have been working my proverbial backside off for Granger’s pet causes, not to mention the Birchen Foundation.”

  “Well, I certainly don’t envy you having to deal with Granger on a steady basis,” Peter retorted. “But we all have our crosses to bear. Speaking of which, which one of you tightwads is getting the next round?”

  “Okay, I’ll get the next round,” Lance said. “But then I want a full account of this Richardson character Ralph, so be prepared for a full debriefing.”

  “Better make mine an orange juice this time,” David called after to Lance. “I have to drive home.”

  “Well, as Peter and I are both without wheels, I suppose one more beer won’t hurt,” Ralph said to Lance’s retreating back.

  “Okay, Ralph, let’s have the real story about all this intrigue you’ve been involved in since we last saw you,” Lance said as he passed the drinks around. “That Richardson bloke must have abandoned everything when he ran away.”

  “No, I don’t think so. He was quite a shrewd character. He left a note for me in my car along with 500 pounds for ‘borrowing my wonderful vintage Jaguar’ as he put it in his note, for any trouble he had caused me. He also said he had taken one of my Mozart CDs as a souvenir, so obviously at that stage of play he still maintained a sense of humor. He wasn’t acting at all like the stereotypical desperate fleeing criminal that the papers depicted. It turned out that he had only leased his mansion in Cambridge, as well as his galleries in London, Paris and New York. It also turned out that he had sold all of his paintings and other valuable possessions some weeks back through one of those anonymous agents and had sent his wife ahead to wait for him, probably in Switzerland or somewhere that doesn’t have an extradition treaty with us.”

  “By the sound of it you quite liked the chap,” said David. But Ralph knew David’s well enough to recognize that it was a question.

  “Well he was certainly a charmer. But one can’t get past the fact that he most certainly killed Ivan Rabinsky. He told me as much before he did a bunk at Heathrow, although he claimed it was an accident. So no, I couldn’t say that I liked him, but you couldn’t help admiring his style.”

  “Did you believe him when he told you that Rabinsky’s death was an accident?” David pursued.

  “Well, I believe that he didn’t intend the altercation to result in Rabinsky actually dying,” but of course he was much older than Richardson and in quite poor health, and Richardson admitted that he hit him.”

  “The law has a term for just that situation,” David explained. “There is a whole line of precedent called the eggshell skull cases.”

  “What does that mean exactly?” Lance asked.

  “That you take the victim as you find him’ and if the perpetrator was unlucky enough to pick a victim who died at his hands because of some fragile attribute, then he would still be guilty under the law.”

  “No doubt Richardson was aware of that,” Ralph said. “It seems that most of the punters who sail too close to the wind are only too aware of where the line between legal and illegal is located.”

  “It sounds as though he had sufficient good qualities that he could have made it legitimately without resorting to all of the cloak and dagger stuff,” Lance said.

  “We could do with someone like that around here,” Peter interjected. “Apart from murdering poor old Rabinsky, he quickly added.

  “What about Granger’s appointment?” Ralph asked. “Last time I spoke with him he seemed to think he might be back in with a chance.”

  “I heard today that he almost nearly pocketed the Pro Vice Chancellor job, but the appointment was subject to some enquiries that the Board of Governors wanted to make. And it seems that our friend Archibald Myers, the finance guy, has raised some question over Granger’s handling of last year’s departmental budget. Granger appears to have overspent by more than sixty thousand pounds and is blaming the poor sod who was acting as his finance advisor. The problem is that the person he is blaming is on Meyer’s staff, and Meyers is determined not to be linked to a cock up of that magnitude. If they doubt that Granger is the safe pair of hands that he makes out to be that could stand in his way of the appointment. As you can imagine, he is not best pleased.”

  Ralph noticed how the world of international art fraud, auctions in London and Paris where millions of pounds hinged on reputation and provenance, mafia gangs, murder and mystery contrasted with the cozy world of academia. He looked fondly around at his colleagues and realized that they each created their own reality
and for them it was totally absorbing. When one of them was involved in things from the outside world, naturally they were curious, but it was not what they worried about when they woke up in the middle of the night.

  “Cynthia’s arm is on the mend,” said Lance. Mind you it has been great driving her BMW. We went to someone’s leaving party at Knights Park last night and it turned out to be quite a blast. It seems that one of the staff, Sarah Winton I think it was, had a blinding row with her husband in front of everyone. He was chatting up this girl when wham in comes Sarah and punches the girl right on the nose. The girl ran out screaming and Sarah proceeded to accuse her husband of having an affair with the lass. You can imagine how that all went down. The Dean of the Art School was there and when he told Sarah to get a grip of herself she told him to bugger off. Well actually her language was a bit stronger than that. I think she might be part Australian as that’s the sort of language the women down there use all the time.” They all chuckled at the thought of a knock down fight in the hallowed halls of the University.

  Ralph was surprised that he felt sorry for Sarah. Her life was falling apart and after that scene she would need to pull a rabbit out of the hat somewhere if she wanted to avoid being asked to resign. Given a different set of circumstances he could imagine Sarah could be a likeable person. He just hoped that she wouldn’t start looking for his shoulder to cry on. They chatted on about college gossip and their own lives for a while until the student on bar duty started to switch out the lights.

  “Look, I don’t know about you chaps but I’ve got a full day tomorrow and need to get off home,” said David as he drained the last of his orange juice.

  “I’m afraid I’ve missed the last K3, so unless one of you is good enough to offer me a lift I shall have to call a taxi,” Said Ralph.