by Evelyn James
“I can’t verify the details, but I heard it from someone who should know, that this new Archaeopteryx may not have come from the quarry, it may, in fact, have been cooked up in some sculptor’s studio.”
Clara’s eyes widened.
“They are suggesting it is fake?” She dropped her voice, feeling this was too great a thing to speak loudly. “But how could he possibly get away with that?”
“If it is a good enough fake it would fool a lot of people. All the more reason to sell it to a private collector too. In a museum there would be a lot of experts taking a look at it and potentially spotting that it was a fraud. Private collectors are unlikely to have that sort of expertise.”
“Yet someone must have authenticated it?” Clara said. “The earl would need the word of a trusted scientific establishment to get the price he hopes for.”
“The earl only needs the word of a reliable expert in the field,” Gilbert explained. “And he has one, in the form of the current director of the fossil department at The Natural History Museum. The same gentleman behind this exhibition. This man has authenticated the earl’s Archaeopteryx, even wrote a paper on it for a scientific journal. That’s how you get these fossils recognised, you know, have an expert write a paper on it and have it published in one of the leading journals on the subject.”
“The director has put his reputation on the line,” Clara said, thinking of the potential consequences the man could face. “If it is discovered he deemed a fake the real thing, the backlash could be terrible.”
“That is a risk,” Gilbert nodded. “But I expect the man is going to be well-compensated for taking a chance. He’ll get a cut of the sales and the more that fossil sells for the greater his portion. So, you see why the earl would be so concerned about the exhibition getting stuck here?”
“I do,” Clara agreed. “I also feel alarmed at it all. Such underhand behaviour from men you would expect better from. And, should this prove true and it all be revealed, can you imagine the pleasure it will give to organisations such as the League for Christians Against Evolution?”
“They will use it to bolster their case that the Archaeopteryx is some sort of scientific fraud, designed by atheists to attack the Church,” Gilbert suggested.
“Exactly,” Clara sighed. “And that would be truly awful.”
“But not our problem, well, maybe my problem, but not yours,” Gilbert tried to cheer her up. “I’m going to try to get better proof so I can print this story and nip the whole thing in the bud. I could really make a name for myself if I reveal this scandal. My editor won’t print anything without sound evidence, however.”
“At least now I know why the earl is in town and breathing down Inspector Park-Coombs’ neck. If the earl had his way, poor Harry Beasley would be charged with murder.”
“Who?” Gilbert frowned.
“The dead man, John Morley’s, brother-in-law,” Clara explained.
“He is a suspect?” Gilbert asked with interest.
“Only because he disliked his brother-in-law, there is no real evidence against him. I am hoping to prove he was at work at the time John Morley died.”
“Then, who did kill him?” Gilbert asked. “I’ve started an article on the crime, but it is really rather boring at the moment.”
“I don’t know who killed John Morley,” Clara admitted. “He went to the town hall with someone else, someone who was supposed to help him. That man is the killer, but I don’t know who he might be. Hence why Harry Beasley has come under suspicion.”
“I’ve been trying to get an angle on this case and have so far failed,” Gilbert said, for the first time looking a little crestfallen. “No one seems to have an idea why John Morley would suddenly break into the town hall and try to destroy a prized fossil.”
“He was paid by the Golden Archaeopteryx Society,” Clara explained. “But you can’t repeat that, I don’t want to alienate them when I might still need their help.”
“Wait, wait, why would they hire him?”
“I am told they were worried about the security of the Archaeopteryx fossil, due to threatening letters sent to the exhibition. They wanted to shake the exhibition staff by demonstrating how easy it would be for the fossil to be destroyed. John Morley was never supposed to harm the fossil.”
“And you believe that?” Gilbert said with a snort of disbelief. “Sounds like a cock and bull story to me.”
“It has its logic,” Clara replied, feeling stung by his derision.
Gilbert shook his head.
“I wouldn’t take that at face value at all. For that matter, what do you really know about this ‘Society’ because it is the first I have heard of them, and I have been rummaging about in this business for weeks.”
Clara was beginning to feel uneasy, wondering if she had been spun a line by Sam Gutenberg and accepted it without question. Had she been tricked?
“I met the man who admitted to hiring John Morley. His name is Sam Gutenberg, he claims to be part of this Society. He is from South Africa.”
“Never heard of him,” Gilbert replied. “I’m intrigued though, just who is this fellow and what is he really up to?”
“You have me wondering that too,” Clara felt foolish. “I have his address. I shall pay him another call and see what he has to say.”
“I wouldn’t mind tagging along,” Gilbert said. “I like to know all the angles on this matter.”
Clara was reluctant to agree, seeing as she already felt stupid for being so quick to accept Sam Gutenberg’s statement. She should have looked into the Golden Archaeopteryx Society and confirmed for herself that it existed. She didn’t like to think she had been gullible.
“As for those threatening letters…” Gilbert hinted, wanting to hear what she knew about them.
“I suspect they have been written by someone involved in the exhibition,” Clara said. “I found the same paper used for the threats at the town hall. It is unusual quality and very distinctive.”
“An inside job? This little business gets more and more devious by the minute. You know, if I discover that anyone genuinely wanted to let the public see the Archaeopteryx fossil for purely educational purposes, I think I might be somewhat shocked!” Gilbert laughed.
“Do you know anything about Dr Browning?” Clara said, beginning to wonder if he had been spinning her a story too when he hired her to investigate the threats. “Is he a party to all this mischief?”
“As far as I am aware Dr Browning is just what he says he is,” Gilbert smiled. “So, there you have it, I just contradicted myself! Dr Browning has worked at the Natural History Museum since 1904, he is a world-renowned expert on the Archaeopteryx, having worked for a number of years at a Berlin Museum, where one of the best specimens found in the country was kept. Of course, that was long before the war.”
Clara paused him.
“Wait, if Dr Browning is the top expert on this and is travelling with the exhibition, must we assume he too is in on the scheme to sell a fake Archaeopteryx?”
“I think it more likely he knows nothing about that,” Gilbert said. “I found Dr Browning rather innocent in his outlook on life. I interviewed him for that piece on the newspaper. I can’t imagine him being a good liar or someone prepared to stake their academic reputation for money. He was proposed for this job by the director of the fossil department. I would guess to get him out of the way while his superior worked on turning a fake into a fortune.”
“You mean Dr Browning might be so damn honest, that he would reveal the fraud if he learned about it?” Clara nodded. “I could see that as a possibility. Instead, he gets sent across the country, completely distracted by all that is going on, and unable to interfere with the plans of the director and the earl.”
“It’s only a guess,” Gilbert answered. “I think poor Dr Browning is finding this whole experience exhausting. I went over and spoke to him after the break in and murder at the town hall. He was pale as a man on his death bed and looked fi
t to give up the ghost.”
“I hope I can resolve this matter for him swiftly,” Clara said. “I have this other nagging worry. What if I prove Harry Beasley is innocent and then the earl needs a new scapegoat and the only one to hand is Dr Browning? There is no real evidence against him, but the circumstances could be enough to convict him. I have heard of people being hanged for a lot less.”
Gilbert became serious.
“It would get a potential problem out of the way for both the earl and the director too. But would they be that callous?”
“Now you are being naïve, Gilbert,” Clara smiled at him. “Money makes men do the cruellest of things. Not that I am saying the earl orchestrated this crime, but it would make life simpler for them if Dr Browning took the blame. It would mean the exhibition could move on and there would be no ‘world-expert’ to decry the first British Archaeopteryx. It’s the sort of opportunity wicked men take advantage of.”
“And I thought I was cynical,” Gilbert shifted in his seat.
“Well, if I can find the real killer, none of that will happen,” Clara said. “Ready to go meet with Sam Gutenberg?”
Gilbert stubbed out his cigarette.
“Ready!”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Sam Gutenberg was staying in a luxury hotel overlooking the beach and the sea. Clara and Gilbert located him in the hotel lounge after having one of the porters look for him. Sam was enjoying a cup of black tea and crumpets. He greeted Clara warmly, but eyed Gilbert with suspicion.
“I thought I might see you again,” he said to Clara, motioning for his visitors to take seats. “You have more questions?”
“I do,” Clara said. “For a start, I am curious about the Golden Archaeopteryx Society.”
“What about it?” Sam asked innocently.
Gilbert grinned, he was itching to speak. Clara responded first.
“I am having trouble finding information about it,” she said.
Sam looked surprised, then he caught the expression on Gilbert’s face, and he became angry.
“You think I am lying? That there is no Society?” He demanded.
“Hey, I said nothing,” Gilbert replied, the question having been clearly directed at him. “I just haven’t come across the name before.”
“That’s because we are largely based in South Africa and Europe,” Sam said coldly. “We only have a handful of members in Britain. You see, in England there is the Association for the Greater Understanding of Prehistoric Birds and their Fossils. They deal with the Archaeopteryx.”
Sam looked deeply offended.
“If you want, I can give you names of people you can contact within the Society,” he grumbled.
“That won’t be necessary,” Clara told him gently. “The question had to be asked. A man is, after all, dead.”
Sam Gutenberg became sombre and some of his ire diminished.
“That is awful,” he agreed. “I never meant for that to happen. I explained my intentions. I wanted the organisers of the exhibition to take better precautions over the display of the Archaeopteryx. I wanted to get them to see how reckless they were being.”
“You must be one of the few people involved in this whole affair that actually cared about that fossil for its sake alone,” Gilbert said, though some of his antagonism had disappeared.
“How do you mean?” Sam Gutenberg looked puzzled.
“Have you heard about the Archaeopteryx that has been found in a British quarry?” Clara changed the subject.
“Yes,” Sam nodded. “I had heard a rumour. No one has come forward and said for certain it is a new discovery.”
“I think there will be a lot more talk after the exhibition has finished,” Gilbert said drily. “But that is only my opinion.”
“The Society would be interested in something like that?” Clara persisted.
“Of course,” Sam almost laughed. “Is it not in a museum already?”
“It belongs to the Earl of Rendham, he found it in one of his quarries,” Gilbert explained.
Sam took a moment to let this sink in.
“Really?” He said. “But he is the main sponsor of the exhibition, why has he not come forward to discuss this new find with the Archaeopteryx touring the country?”
“It’s all rather complicated,” Clara said. “Sam, is there anything more you can tell me about your arrangement with John Morley? Anything, even a minor thing, might reveal who went with him and killed him.”
Sam pulled a face as he thought hard.
“When we first spoke, John was very keen, he liked the sound of the money, I knew that,” Sam said thoughtfully. “But, when we met in the pub and I handed over the first half, he seemed less sure of himself. I had the impression he had never done anything quite like this before and there had been a lot of police attention around the exhibition. He seemed nervous.
“He started to talk about involving a second person, someone to accompany him. I was not terribly happy about that. He said he had a friend who was reliable and was already linked to the exhibition. He said he could get him into the town hall. Then he started asking for a bit more money to pay this friend of his. I almost walked away at that point. He changed his tune quickly, said the original money was fine, but that he was going to ask this friend to help him. I didn’t protest further.”
“He said the friend was connected with the exhibition?” Clara found this interesting. “Mr Gutenberg, I now suspect that the person sending the threats to the exhibition is connected to it. In fact, I am certain of that. The threats are being sent by someone who works with the fossils.”
Sam Gutenberg looked genuinely surprised.
“What? But…” he frowned. “That makes no sense. Why would someone work for the exhibition and send threatening letters?”
“I’m still investigating that,” Clara said. “But you have now told me about a second connection between someone at the exhibition and a crime committed there. Did John tell you anything more about this friend who was going to help him?”
“No,” Sam shrugged. “He just said he was an old friend and reliable. I was annoyed with him and didn’t pry further.”
Sam clasped his hands together uneasily.
“Had I known John was going to end up dead, had I thought something like that could happen, I would never have even suggested the plan. Had I known Dr Browning capable of killing a man…”
“You think Dr Browning did this?” Clara interrupted him.
Sam looked at her in astonishment.
“I can’t fathom why the police have not already arrested him. He is surely responsible?”
“Why would you say that?” Gilbert leaned forward, excited by this new gossip.
“Do you not know?” Sam shook his head. “It was well hushed up at the time and no charges were ever pressed, but Dr Browning was suspected of having murdered one of his colleagues when he worked at a museum in Germany. They were alone in one of the exhibit halls, preparing a display for the public. Dr Browning always claimed that an intruder had snuck in to try and steal a fossil to sell on, and that this mystery man had killed his colleague. Dr Browning said he was in his office at the time, getting some display tags. He heard a commotion, rushed back to the hall and found his colleague groaning on the floor tiles. A man was just disappearing through a door.
“He chased the man, but lost him, and then summoned the local police and a doctor. His colleague died before the doctor arrived. He had been smacked on the back of a head with a hammer.”
Sam Gutenberg looked triumphant. Gilbert whistled through his teeth.
“That is quite a coincidence,” he said.
Clara had to agree. She suddenly felt foolish; could it be, after all, that Dr Browning was their man? Had his appearance of being an anxious, overworked, but innocuous academic, been just a façade? Had she been gulled by him?
Clara was starting to wonder if she was going soft, losing her cynical edge.
“Dr Browning was never arr
ested for that crime?” She asked Sam.
“Never, as I say, it was hushed up. I know about it because one of the members of the Society used to work at the same museum. He always said there was something a little sinister about Dr Browning. Something he did a good job hiding from the world,” Sam gave a derisive snort. “Guess he couldn’t hide it anymore.”
~~~*~~~
Clara walked with Gilbert back to the newspaper office.
“Have I got this all backwards? Did I ignore the obvious?” She said.
“You tell me,” Gilbert said, though he smiled with it. “You have more information on this affair than I do. I’ve met Dr Browning briefly. He didn’t strike me as a man with blood on his hands.”
“Exactly,” Clara replied with satisfaction. “Have we both been blind?”
They had reached the back door of the newspaper office. Gilbert paused with a hand on the door handle.
“Are you starting to doubt yourself Clara Fitzgerald?” He asked, a mischievous look in his eye. “If you were one of my colleagues, I would tell you to get out there and stop being so self-absorbed. Go find the man responsible and leave behind the self-pity. We all make mistakes, that’s a certainty. It’s what we do about those mistakes after we make ‘em that matters.”
Clara gave a short laugh.
“All right, Gilbert, I am duly chastened. I shall go solve my case.”
“Excellent, and if you need anything more, you know where to find me. I am going to dig about in the Earl of Rendham’s past and see what I can drag out. Not that I think he is a killer, but I can smell a story in this mess.”
“Glad I could help,” Clara laughed.
She headed off in the direction of the town hall. She wanted another chat with Dr Browning and as the exhibition would be closing shortly, it was a good time to catch him.
Dr Browning was sitting on his chair near the Archaeopteryx case. He looked ill, like he was coming down with a cold. He seemed on the verge of falling asleep, his head tipping forward every now and again as he nearly nodded off. As Clara approached him, he roused himself.
