he had valuable artefacts, and the door was forced. That’s why you’re here. We need your help to confirm what – if anything – is missing, then we can establish the motive. We believe it was someone he knew, but perhaps he confided something to you that may be of relevance.”
“I can’t think of anything” Felix said, hoping for more information.
“Mr. Finer, intrigue can have a high price,” said Novak dryly while he fiddled with his file. “You may be interested to know that circumstances never lie.”
The comment didn’t make Felix feel any better; he didn’t know what was going on in Novak’s head. Was it a routine statement or was it a threat? Was his secret compromised? The words “trust no one” echoed in his mind.
Novak continued, “When murder sits at your elbow it doesn’t give you much room to move.”
“You’re right, Inspector.” Felix knew he would not reveal the safe, even if its contents were the reason for the crime. He sat there in silence, chin cupped in his hands. Neither Novak nor Benzel had a word to say as they thumbed through their briefs. Felix sensed some advantage and directed his question to the lieutenant. “What about you, you’re on this case. Don’t you have a suspect?”
“We have more than that,” Novak answered for Benzel. “We will work through this, and soon we’ll have his name. What we now need is to establish a motive.”
“His name? So you do have another suspect?” interjected Felix, and not too discreetly.
“This is why you’re here; you can assist us with our investigation at the apartment. We’ll revisit the crime scene and revise our notes,” he added to inform his subordinate.
As they stood up, Benzel asked, “Do you own a .455 calibre Webly revolver?”
“No, I don’t. Why do you ask?”
Before Benzel could utter a word, Novak said, “Because we have the gun.”
“Wait here, we’ll be back in ten minutes.” Benzel indicated that Felix should sit down as they left the room.
Time passed slowly as he waited. Was this blunt ‘police’ talk trying to soften him up, he wondered. Could they have discovered the safe? They would call in academics and his secret advantage would be lost. Forty minutes had passed when Novak’s baritone voice boomed, “Ready?” as he appeared in the open doorway.
“I can’t believe that in such a serious case, Reinhardt cannot be detained.”
“He’s not in hiding and he will be interviewed in Vienna; leave that to us.” Novak turned to go. Then he stopped and Benzel waited behind him. “Ah…” Novak said as if he wasn’t sure where to start. “Hmm, we do have an interest in a person seen lurking about. We think he could be an Englishman, about forty-five, slim and tall. He’s well dressed and has a neatly clipped beard. Does that remind you of anyone?”
“No. It doesn’t.” Felix suspected that this was some ploy they were testing him with.
A police guard stood on duty outside the apartment building and acknowledged them on arrival. Felix passed the ornate doors he once admired without so much as a glance. Another officer met them on the landing outside the apartment and made a comment about not being surprised that someone would want to rob Victor. “Here is an inventory of the principle items,” he said. “The professor was astounded by the quality of the collection.”
It must be the contents of the safe. Felix’s heart was pounding. He wanted to rush into the apartment, but restrained himself. “My uncle was an avid collector. I’ll do my best to remember what he had.”
They filed into the room. Felix breathed deeply as he walked in; his eyes followed the wall of shelves till he saw the crystal vase in its place, and knew the secret panel was undisturbed behind it.
“Take your time, we need to be sure,” said Novak, as he examined each object with interest.
“Apparently there could be a motive behind any one of these objects, like this one,” proposed the lieutenant cynically, holding up a cracked clay vessel.
“It’s not about the object itself, it’s what it represents – the ethereal quality of the artefact,” Felix said as he watched Benzel throw Novak a sour look. “It’s like a badge. The important part is what it stands for.”
“Well then, tell me what this is. What does it stand for?” Novak demanded.
“It’s not in the inventory,” said the officer.
“It’s not? Why not?” asked Novak.
“I didn’t know how to classify it.”
“Classify it as chisel.” Felix said.
Both turned their eyes on him and then snatched another look at the simple implement in Benzel’s hand.
“They carved their mighty monuments with these, their civilisation and their tombs.” Felix regarded the chisel with wonder. “It’s amazing to touch that link to a stonemason twenty-five centuries ago. It’s like holding a ghost, isn’t it?” Felix asked.
Benzel shuddered and handed the chisel to Novak, who seemed genuinely interested in it.
“Well,” Novak said rather automatically as he inspected the chisel, “let’s get on with it.”
That the intruder had searched through the drawers was apparent. He had also removed some books to look behind them, replacing them untidily and in haste.
Novak was absorbed with the paintings on the opposite wall as Felix approached him. “You like that one?” he asked.
“Who wouldn’t? It’s beautiful. Your uncle had outstanding taste in art.”
“Yes he did have a gift for it. Look, I can’t find anything missing; it could have been a document or a rare book—”
“No,” the inspector snapped.
“Why not?”
Novak seemed to be on a short fuse. He tore his eyes from the painting to look at Felix. “Because something was snatched from his hand, some object, which left a deep cut on the palm. This was during a struggle, just before he was shot. Right here.” He moved to indicate a spot on the parquetry floor. He was still pointing to it when another officer entered the doorway announcing a visitor. Novak motioned to him to come forward.
It was Etienne who stepped into the room, holding a well-travelled brown leather suitcase, a look of dismay already on his tanned face. His eyes darted around the room and then switched from face to face to stop on Felix. “What is this? What’s going on?”
Before anyone could say a word, Novak stepped up to him, and took the suitcase from his hand. “You’re Etienne Vallois, I suppose. Your uncle has been shot dead,” he said coldly.
Etienne’s frown deepened as the reality of the situation sunk in. “I’ll kill the bastard, I will.” He grabbed the inspector by the arm.
Novak remained calm. “Sure you will, and tell
