‘How d’you feel, darling?’ Molly enquired as they followed a shrub-lined pathway out of the cathedral grounds, with what was left of the winter’s snow glinting on evergreen leaves on either side.

  ‘I feel less fraught.’ He shook his head. ‘Still responsible for what happened of course. I’d really no idea anyone’d be fool enough actually to chuck himself in. Grinyev thought it possible. He was right. I was simply expecting a less dramatic reaction.’

  ‘You weren’t responsible. Jeremy was crazy. Felicity said so herself. Several times to Edwina and me.’ She looked up into his face. ‘You want to talk about it yet?’

  ‘Sure.’ He had been past discussing anything when he had got back to their room at three-thirty in the morning. Since they had got up neither the time nor his feelings had been right for conversation. ‘You know it was the German conductor, your military bandmaster, who put me on to Wander?’

  ‘Because he was an over-sized Jeremy? Those eyes. The generally over-fed look?’ She grimaced. ‘They were a bit alike.’

  ‘Mm. And Candy’s remark about his being an ex-soldier gone crooked.’

  ‘Jeremy being an ex regular.’

  ‘Much more than that. You told me ages ago he’d been in one of the old provincial regiments. As local gentry it almost had to have been the Eastwick Yeomanry, recruited from Easthamptonshire and Warwickshire. And he was in the Eastwicks. Retired as a captain. I asked him when we were coming out of the Philharmonia.’

  ‘And it meant something?’

  ‘I thought so.’ They turned into Mayorova Prospect that led directly to their hotel in St Isaac’s Square. What traffic there was consisted mostly of buses—empty buses which made one wonder why there were so many of them. The gilded spire of the Admiralty sparkled in the sunshine and was clearly visible at the very bottom of the avenue. As Valya had said, it was difficult to get lost in Leningrad.

  ‘The husband of Mrs Lloyd was a corporal in the Eastwicks,’ Treasure went on. ‘Earlier I’d been hung up on the idea whoever was involved with Frenk was probably connected with Coventry.’

  ‘Except Nigel Dirving wasn’t.’

  ‘Only indirectly when Mrs Lloyd acquired some of his debts, and eventually all of them. That was obviously by intention.’

  ‘So he was connected through a not so obvious thread. Not like Edwina who actually lived there but had really never met Frenk.’

  ‘Nor any of the others involved,’ he replied firmly. ‘No, the thread was Albert Lloyd, deceased, from Coventry in Warwickshire. He must have served in the Eastwicks under Captain Sir Jeremy Wander, owner of Wander Hall in the next county. Possibly his company commander.’

  ‘But he was long since dead.’

  ‘Which moves us along to his widow, a raver past her peak, who is doing surprisingly well on an army pension. Has her own house, her own sauna clinic, her own money lending business, and a tenant upstairs called Rudy Frenk. That was another thread. And quite a thick one.’

  ‘So Mrs Lloyd had a backer, you thought?’

  ‘Well, I couldn’t believe the woman described by Peregrine Gore possessed the material and mental resources to fund this caper. Not involving the lifting of a priceless Raphael from the State Hermitage.’

  ‘Nor the conjuring up here of a non-existent member of the Baroque Circle?’

  ‘And I didn’t believe she’d organised his cold-blooded murder either. There had to be a puppet-master. Someone who was pulling all the strings. A machiavellian operator with a first-rate twisted mind.’

  ‘Who kept the puppets separate.’

  ‘So each did a job without knowing what the whole operation entailed.’ He stopped speaking as they hurried across an intersection just ahead of a changing light and a bus revving up for the off. ‘I was certain the big boss couldn’t have been Dirving,’ said Treasure as they reached the other side of the road.

  ‘And you didn’t want it to be Edwina, because you’re really rather fond of Edwina.’ She squeezed his arm affectionately.

  ‘She might have managed everything else, but not the murder. Too brutal and too expert. And none of the others seemed to have the totally right connections. Although I couldn’t be sure. Circumstantially Wander was beginning to look right. And then I recalled something more factual about him.’

  ‘Let me guess. He gave Daphne Vauxley the sitting stick.’

  ‘Not only gave it her, but kept it in sight virtually the whole time when she was out with it. And it was the perfect repository for the painting. In an emergency it even floated,’ he added bitterly. ‘It came to me when I was watching one of the players take his trombone apart last night. When I was still trying to figure why Nigel Dirving had been instructed to introduce Frenk to Mrs Vauxley.’

  ‘It wasn’t Daphne he had to know so much as her stick?’

  ‘Exactly. And do you remember where it was on the coach? When we left the airport?’

  ‘Mm … on the row of seats behind us probably. With the other things. Immediately behind Daphne.’

  ‘And immediately in front of the bogus Frenk. A ready-made opportunity. It took me five seconds to unscrew the base and take out the rolled up canvas in the gents last night. It wouldn’t have taken our Frenk much longer to put it in. Pretending to fiddle with his belongings on the seat. It was pretty dark in the coach.’

  ‘And that was his job done?’

  ‘Unfortunately for him.’

  ‘Because Jeremy killed him. Why?’

  ‘Either because he’d have been much more of a liability alive than dead—here and in England. Or because he’d been promised too much for doing the job. I think the second reason. Or it could have been a combination of both. But Jeremy was pretty generous with his advance promises. Dirving was to get a hundred thousand for his part. Our Frenk may have been in for half the take. Easy to offer but maybe hard for Jeremy to stomach, once he actually had the picture.’

  ‘And who was our Frenk?’

  ‘Someone called Vasilefski. Sergey Vasilefski. A disappointed aspirant to Intourist, doing time as an international telephone operator here in Leningrad, and carrying a chip on his shoulder. Spoke good English.’

  ‘We know.’

  ‘And German. Also something of an athlete.’

  ‘And the colonel knows Jeremy killed him?’

  ‘He’d have deduced it anyway. Once we both knew Jeremy was behind the theft of the picture.’

  ‘His alibi for the interval at the opera …’

  ‘So called alibi. Even if it happened as he said, it gave him time to buy champagne and get from the bar to Vasilefski on the balcony. He was expert at barging his way through crowds. Remember his performance at Heathrow?’

  ‘So you think Jeremy arranged to meet Vasilefski on the balcony?’

  ‘I’m certain of it. For a glass of champagne, probably, which Jeremy was to bring.’

  ‘With poor Vasilefski in time to be at the front. With his back to Jeremy ready for … Oh dear.’ Molly shuddered. ‘But if Colonel Grinyev knows all this too, surely Jeremy wouldn’t have got out of the country this morning? He’d have had to stand trial here? Go to prison?’

  ‘No he wouldn’t. Ironically he was quite safe.’

  ‘But they’d never have let him …’

  ‘Yes, they would. He’d have got away with the murder. In this country at least. I’m sure of it.’ Treasure’s tone was deadly serious. ‘Not the picture, of course. You see I did a deal with Grinyev. In the Square of the Arts, outside the Philharmonia. A deal it suited him to keep. It was while you were listening to the Beethoven last night.’

  Chapter Twenty-One

  ‘Can we look at the canal for a minute? That’s such a pretty street.’ On Molly’s whim they stopped to lean over a wrought-iron balustrade, contemplating the nearly still water that ran under the main avenue at an intersection and down the centre of the crossing street to the left. Then, puzzled, she asked: ‘But you didn’t know anything for certain at the concert?’

  ‘That Wander was the villain? No. And I didn’t tell Grinyev I thought so either. I simply rang him at his office and told him I could get the painting back. Actually it was in my pocket at the time and I couldn’t get rid of it fast enough. I said Frenk had been the thief, that Frenk was an imposter and almost certainly a Russian, that I thought I could sniff out the murderer, and that I’d trade the painting and the information for safe passage home this morning for the whole of our group. No matter what.’

  ‘Meaning you knew one of us was guilty.’

  ‘He had to assume something of the sort. And so did I. Anyway, he drove over straight away. Met me in the foyer. Insisted we did all the talking outside, in the middle of the square, where we couldn’t be overheard. I suppose I was almost as anxious as he was to find out who the murderer was, but not necessarily to have him locked up for ever in Russia.’

  ‘Him, or it might have been a her? Who had to be locked up,’ Molly added earnestly.

  ‘That’s right.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Anyway, Grinyev was happy to trade. On my terms.’

  ‘Because he’d get the painting back.’

  ‘And because I could prove it was stolen by a Russian,’ Treasure replied slowly. ‘That didn’t suit at all, of course. Though it was convenient the fellow was dead. Made it possible to return the painting and say nothing. If a foreigner was accused of the murder, one of our party, the whole story would have to come out—even with a show trial.’

  ‘With Jeremy, Nigel, Edwina or somebody pleading guilty to everything, and telling all so as to get a light sentence?’

  ‘I don’t believe Grinyev was thinking that far ahead. Only that if one of us did do the murder the same person simply couldn’t have stolen the Raphael, because we weren’t here when it was pinched.’

  ‘Except Mr Vaseline …’

  ‘Mr Vasilefski was here. Yes, because he lived here and succeeded in nicking an old master and hoodwinking the authorities by becoming an instant British tourist, complete with visa. Not a compliment to any part of the security system. I doubt they’ll ever reveal here that the real Frenk is alive and well and living in Coventry. They will at home, I suppose. If it’s been announced he’s been murdered in Leningrad.’

  ‘To say it was a mistake?’

  ‘Mm. But hardly a front page item. Here I imagine the murder hasn’t been announced. And like the stealing of the painting it never will be. Keeps Nigel Dirving out of trouble for his part in the whole business.’

  ‘But the colonel has to know now we brought in a non-existent member.’

  ‘And how it was done. But he’s … overlooking it. Part of the general amnesty. Part of the deal.’

  ‘And you’re satisfied Nigel didn’t know about the painting?’

  ‘Pretty certainly. Nor that Wander was his paymaster. Nigel thought he’d been hired to fix safe passage for a dissident Russian. That’s all. His only contact was Mrs Lloyd. Wander was very circumspect.’

  ‘And you were sure whoever knew the painting was in Daphne’s stick would go berserk when it fell in the river?’

  ‘Wouldn’t you have? If you’d managed the whole exercise? Think of the expense already, involved. The risk.’

  ‘I still wouldn’t have dived in after it.’

  His face clouded. ‘I might have known Wander was capable of it. With everything at stake. He was pretty fit and, I suppose, decisive, in a mad kind of way. He calculated the risk, thought he’d survive, and jumped. Hoped we’d all put it down to an impetuous nature. Anyway, yes, I told Grinyev we’d almost certainly get a leading reaction from the guilty party. He agreed.’

  ‘And he let you set the trap using poor Amelia Harwick as accomplice. Who you briefed on the way from the concert. On the back seat of the coach.’

  ‘She was surprisingly compliant, particularly since I couldn’t explain why I wanted the thing dropped in the river. With sound effects.’

  Molly’s eyebrows arched. ‘I’d guess Amelia would do most things you asked of her on the back seat of anything. Still, full marks. She had to cope with the stage management—and weather Daphne’s disapproval, after all.’

  ‘Strangely, that didn’t seem to bother her. But I had to promise I’d replace the stick if it wasn’t recovered.’

  ‘And the colonel set up the motorboat?’

  ‘Which was supposed to be in evidence when we arrived. I assumed something had gone wrong with the arrangements. That it wasn’t coming.’

  ‘And police reinforcements were laid on around Strelka Point? I didn’t see them. Because they weren’t needed?’

  ‘Because there weren’t any. Grinyev used a handful of his own picked people, that’s all. And he was there himself the whole time. In the background.’

  ‘You counted on his having the authority to do a deal of that size. And not to trick you. After you’d handed over the painting. Wasn’t that the biggest risk?’

  Treasure leaned further out over the water. ‘One understands that high-ups in the KGB are a law to themselves.’ He paused, pouting at their reflection below. ‘In addition, of course, I trusted him. He was genuinely determined to get the Raphael back because he was genuinely, morally disgusted about its being pinched. And so was I. Does that sound pompous?’

  ‘A bit, but then you are a tiny bit pompous.

  It suits you, darling.’ She kissed him lightly on the ear. ‘So how did they eventually identify Vasilefski?’

  ‘Through a baggage claim ticket I found in the stick with the picture. From the Moscow station here. He’d checked in a suitcase. His Russian identity card was in it, with his Russian clothes, a false beard and the bottle of dye he used to make the phony birthmark. I suppose if anything had gone wrong the suitcase was his way back. So he kept the ticket.’

  Molly slipped her arm through his again as once more they moved off down the avenue. ‘How d’you suppose Vasilefski got recruited by Jeremy? Then got all the dates and timings arranged?’

  ‘It wasn’t that complicated a plan. Anyway, thanks to Peregrine Gore we know. Pretty certainly. The real Frenk has a friend, a close friend apparently, who works in a main telephone exchange. Like Vasilefski. I imagine the two could have been conversing for days on end if they’d wanted. Or nights, more likely. It’s the way night operators kill time. Talking to each other.’

  ‘Like radio hams?’

  ‘Exactly. From what Grinyev’s learned already about Vasilefski, he was a pretty disaffected comrade. It wouldn’t have taken him long to impress his disaffection on the other chap—and his plan to steal a painting.’

  ‘He’d have risked being overheard?’

  ‘If he was really fed-up. And desperate. In any case I’ve never heard of telephone operators being tapped. A calculated risk I’d say. Vasilefski took it. Anyway, the other chap tells Frenk, who tells Mrs Lloyd, who tells Wander. Or that’s the most likely synopsis.’

  ‘Except the two men would know nothing about Wander?’

  ‘Or his probably intimate relationship with the widow of a corporal who died while under his command. Incidentally, Frenk’s friend was here recently. Peregrine saw a photograph. Probably that’s when the plan was completed, the orders passed, and when Vasilefski’s passport photo was brought out. It all fits.’

  ‘Well, bully for Peregrine.’

  ‘And his incredible bent for observation and retaining detail. Did I tell you, when he left the Lloyd house he thought he was going to be arrested by a police driver? In fact the man was a keen rally driver trying, to decide whether to invest his all in a Scimitar. That’s the car Peregrine drives.’

  ‘Sports car? Not wildly expensive?’

  He nodded. ‘The copper was just coming off duty. The wily Peregrine picked him up shortly after at the police station and let him try out the car on a trip to Evesham and back. It’s not far.’

  ‘That’s where Frenk shared the cottage with his friend.’

  ‘Mm. After his experience with Mrs Lloyd, Peregrine felt he might need support when he called on the other two. The policeman provided that without knowing it. He was still wearing his uniform jacket. Put the fear of God into the friends even though he stayed outside, looking over the car engine, while Peregrine was in the cottage.’

  ‘But they didn’t tell all? I mean, they didn’t give Jeremy away, or anything like that?’

  ‘They might have done if Peregrine had known what he was looking for. As it was he was boxing in the dark, but he got enough to confirm the Frenk we had here was an imposter.’

  ‘And enough leads for my deductive husband to work on. But why d’you suppose Mrs Lloyd gave Peregrine the Evesham address in the first place?’

  ‘Because she really didn’t suspect him of anything sinister and seems to have fancied him. She might have wanted Frenk to check him out properly. In the country, where it’d be easier to hold him prisoner. If necessary till we got home today. Easier than it was in Coventry. And where there were two men to do it. I’d guess they had orders to restrain anyone who threatened the plan. It didn’t need to be for long. I also got the impression Mrs Lloyd was really trying to set up a jolly rural excursion for herself with Peregrine and his flash car. He’d quite put her off her guard for a bit.’

  ‘Then he scared her?’

  ‘Yes. By lifting a photo of Frenk and thereby wiping out his credibility. She panicked. But it demonstrated how much was at stake. Locking him in Frenk’s bathroom was a prettty bizarre thing to have done.’

  Molly shaded her eyes. ‘Isn’t St Isaac’s lovely in the sunlight? What a shame it’s a museum.’ They were entering the square on the west side. ‘It’ll be my turn again to look after Felicity. After breakfast. With her packing and things. Unless she’s decided to stay on.’

  ‘Grinyev said she could. But he also said if she preferred to leave, they’d fly the body to London very soon. In a day or two. Because it was … a simple accident, as he put it, witnessed by a dozen of us. He’s already had signed coroner’s depositions taken from three of our party.’ He gave a dismissive grunt. ‘Felicity seemed pretty collected in the circumstances. That’s when I last saw her.’

 

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