Be Not Afraid Read online

  “A man appears, out of nowhere, and tells you he will pay you to avenge your father and sister and you were not suspicious? Or at least curious?”

  “It was what we wanted to do. It was our duty.”

  “I see. All right, tell me what he looked like?”

  Helen shrugged. “He was a very ordinary man. He wore rimless glasses.”

  “Rimless glasses. Did he give you any instructions as to what to do, or say, if you were caught?”

  “He said we would not be caught.”

  “And you believed him. I almost feel sorry for you.” Berkeley went to the telephone and asked for 999.

  *

  “What a miserable business.” Peter Watt stood in the centre of the drawing room and surveyed the four people in front of him. Howard had been placed in his pram and had gone back to sleep. The rest had waited, listening to the tramp of feet as ambulance men had removed the four bodies, and the police had placed Helen Karlovy under arrest; she was being held in the dining room. Savos and Martina had each had a brandy. Anna sat silently, her face closed. But Berkeley knew her brain was alert and as active as his own.

  They had each written out a statement and signed it. Now Watt surveyed the revolver that had been laid on the coffee table. “I’ll have to take this for ballistic tests,” he said. “But you say you shot that fellow, Colonel.”

  “He was charging me with a knife in his hand,” Berkeley said. “What would you have done?”

  “Probably the same, sir. If I had happened to be carrying a loaded revolver. But that is not something I normally do.”

  “Neither do I, Chief Inspector. But I have done since I was attacked in Northampton the other night.”

  “You do realise that it is an offence to carry a concealed weapon?”

  “I have a licence, Peter. You know that.”

  “With respect, sir, you have a licence for a Browning nine-millimetre automatic pistol, and for a point three two Smith and Wesson revolver. This is a point three eight.”

  “I had intended to obtain a licence, but with all this happening I didn’t get around to it. Are you going to charge me with possessing an unlicensed weapon?”

  “Well, I don’t know about that, sir. It will have to be reported. But in the circumstances, with your mother and Mrs Townsend both dead . . .” He turned the pages of his notebook “I can only offer you my deepest sympathy, and I am sure that will be echoed by my superiors. Now, just to recapitulate: you and Miss Anna went to the station to pick up, ah . . .” he read his notes, “Colonel and Mrs Savos . . .” he looked at Alexandros and Martina, “leaving both Mrs Townsends in the house with the maidservant and the baby. You had seen nothing suspicious before you left?”

  “Nothing,” Berkeley said.

  “But you will agree that these two people must have already been in the neighbourhood?”

  “You’ll have to ask the woman that.”

  Watt made a face. “That will be difficult, as her English appears to be limited. We haven’t even been able to take a statement.”

  “I will translate for you,” Martina volunteered.

  “That would be very helpful, Mrs . . . ah . . . Savos.” He looked hard at her. “You had no knowledge of what might be going to happen?”

  “Well, of course we did not. We came here to spend a holiday with our old friend Berkeley.”

  “You had never seen or heard of these people before?”

  “We had never seen them. But . . .” Martina looked at her husband.

  “I know the name,” Savos said. “I was a police officer in Belgrade before I retired, and I remember there were some people named Karlovy, anarchists, who we had to arrest.”

  “And what happened to them?”

  “I cannot say. I have not heard of them since the war.”

  “But you think these may be members of the same family?”

  Savos shrugged. “It is possible.”

  “And did Colonel Townsend mention them to you when he met you at the station?”

  “No, he did not,” Savos said, with careful exactitude. The mention had been in the car.

  “I did not wish to alarm my friends,” Berkeley explained. “They were coming here for a holiday. I would probably have told them what was going on once they were settled in, but there was no time for that. It simply did not occur to me that those two thugs would attack me in the house.”

  “I’m sure.” Watt closed his notebook. “You will be remaining here for a few days, Mr Savos? Mrs Savos?”

  Alexandros and Martina looked at Berkeley.

  “I sincerely hope so,” Berkeley said.

  “We will be happy to stay,” Martina said.

  “Very good. You will be required to give evidence at the inquest, you see. I imagine that will be next week.”

  “And my mother and wife? And Maria?” Berkeley asked.

  “Well, sir, there will have to be autopsies. Unnatural deaths, you see. I know it’s hard to think of, but it’s the law. But those will be carried out right away, and the bodies will be released for burial.”

  Berkeley nodded. It was hard to think of, Lucy’s fine body being cut open by a surgeon’s knife to no purpose. “Thank you. There is just one thing, Chief Inspector.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “As I am sure Miss Karlovy will put in her statement, before you arrived she told us that it was not her intention that anyone should be killed except me.”

  “And you believe that?”

  “I do, yes. It was her brother who ran wild. I will have to testify to that in court.”

  “You must do as you think best, sir. I don’t think it will make a lot of difference. She came here intending to commit murder. That the wrong persons got killed does not alleviate her guilt. Now, madam . . .” Watt looked at the Savoses. “You were going to help me with this statement.”

  “Of course.” Martina stood up, as did Alexandros.

  Anna watched the door close. “Won’t he find out the truth?”

  “Not unless one of the four of us tells him.”

  “Is it always like this?”

  Berkeley sat beside her and put his arm round her shoulders. “It’s never been like this before.”

  “Not even when mother died?”

  “That was bad. As it was when your grandmother was killed. But they were both doing something for the cause, for Serbia. Lucy and Grandma, and Maria, were just trying to live their lives, at peace. Can you understand that?”

  “I think so. Will they hang that woman? I hope they do,” she said with sudden anger. “Why did you attempt to defend her?”

  “I promised I would, if she would tell me who sent them.”

  “And did she tell you?”

  “She said it was someone called Himmler. First name Heinrich. Martina thinks that sounds German.”

  “Do you have enemies in Germany?”

  “Certainly I do. Friends or associates of Grippenheimer. I don’t want to remind you of those days, Anna, but does the name ring any sort of bell?”

  Anna shook her head.

  “He is apparently a rather ordinary looking man who wears rimless glasses. Do you remember anyone looking like that coming to Grippenheimer’s?”

  “I do not remember. We tried not to look at the men. They had only to be endured.”

  He gave her another hug.

  “What are you going to do?” she asked.

  “There’s not a lot I can do, unless I can find out something about him.”

  “Do you think he will try again?”

  “That’s quite likely. But not until he learns that this attempt has failed, and that can’t be for a while yet.”

  Anna shivered. “Are we going to tell Johnnie and Ally?”

  “I think we will have to. And . . .” He bit his lip.

  “Yes,” she said. “Harry and Mary. They’ll be home from school, soon.”

  He nodded. “And Maria really was their mother.”

  “And you will tell them about
this Himmler and the German connection?”

  “Not right now. It’ll have to come out, sooner or later. But, for the time being, there is just us and Baby.” He squeezed her hand. “You will have to be his mother.”

  “Yes,” she said, and then added fiercely, “But when you find out who this man Himmler is, I want to help you avenge Lucy. And Maria and Grandma.”

  “We’ll talk about it,” he said. “When I find out who he is.”

  The Lawyer

  As Berkeley’s only hostile contacts in Germany had been with the Nazi Party and Grippenheimer, he had no doubts as to whence the man Himmler had emanated. What he did not know was whether Himmler had been acting on behalf of the party, or whether he was just a friend or employee of Grippenheimer who had somehow discovered the identity of the millionaire’s executioner and was out for personal revenge.

  But whether or not Himmler was working for the party, he was certainly not working on his own. There was also the business of the car, and whoever had been driving it. There was no evidence of how the Karlovys had got out to the farmhouse; it was too far for them to have walked from Northampton, and they had to have made some plans for getting away once they had killed him. He wondered if and when Watt would start to wonder about that. He didn’t want to introduce the probability of a third person being involved until he had had the opportunity to find out more about Himmler, and finding the car might be the quickest way to do that.

  *

  Watt joined him half an hour later, intimating that he would like a private word. Anna took Howard out to be with the Savoses.

  “I have the young woman’s statement here.” Watt laid it on the table. “Copied out in English by my sergeant as translated by Mrs Savos. You’ll see Miss Karlovy has signed it, after it was read back to her in that language of theirs, by Mrs Savos. I can’t pretend I’m too happy about this standing up in court, as we only have Mrs Savos’s word that it’s a faithful translation and that she correctly read it back to the accused.” He glanced at Berkeley. “May I ask how well you know the young lady? Mrs Savos, I mean.”

  “I have known Mrs Savos for several years, Chief Inspector. And her husband for even longer. I trust them both absolutely, and I am quite sure you will find the translation is both faithful and accurate.”

  “Well, if that is the case, it is an open and shut confession to murder, even if, as you suggested, Miss Karlovy claims that she did not know her brother intended to murder anyone else and would not have accompanied him if she had. But the fact is that she was armed with the knife with which she assaulted Miss Anna, and in the context of what happened here today that must be considered a deadly weapon. She will be very lucky to get away with her neck.”

  “I would not like her to be hanged, Peter,” Berkeley said.

  Watt sighed. “I’m afraid, sir, her fate is now in the hands of a jury. And a good defence lawyer, of course, if she can afford one. But there remain several intriguing and unexplained points about the case. Such as, how did her brother and herself obtain the necessary documentation to get into this country in the first place.”

  “Wouldn’t she tell you that?”

  “No, sir. On my behalf, Mrs Savos asked her several times, but she refused to say. But they must have had some outside assistance. Judging by the quality of their clothes and, well, I suppose you might say, cultural appearance, I would not suppose they were well-to-do. You say you knew the family; were they well off?”

  “Not to my knowledge. Their father was an anarchist and their elder sister was a prostitute.”

  “Well, then, you see what I mean. To obtain a passport one must have acceptable references. To obtain a passage from Serbia to England one must have ample funds. To live in England without arousing suspicion, for some time, one must have ample English funds. You’ll forgive me, but one does not obtain these things by, shall I say, walking the streets. And then we have the question of where they have been staying during the weeks they have been here; obviously in or around Northampton, but our inquiries have turned nothing up.”

  “No doubt you will be questioning the young woman again?”

  “Well, yes, sir, we will, using a proper interpreter. However, it did occur to me . . . You say you know these people, and the reason they came after you. Surely you must have some idea who might have backed them? Some relative, or . . .” He paused.

  “I’m afraid I have no idea whatsoever, Peter,” Berkeley lied, gazing into his eyes.

  “Well, we’ll just have to see what we can get out of her.”

  “Will it help the case in any way?” Berkeley asked. “You have her confession.”

  “Loose ends, sir. Loose ends. No policeman likes loose ends. Now, Colonel, we need to talk about you.”

  “I don’t think I need protection any more,” Berkeley said. “That would be rather like shutting the stable door after the horse has bolted.”

  “Yes, sir. Believe me, I feel most terribly guilty about the death of your dear wife and your mother, not to mention the maid. I hope you understand that my hands were tied, until . . .”

  “I do understand that, Chief Inspector. The guilt is mine for leaving them alone, even for an hour.”

  “You weren’t to know, sir. What we really need to discuss is the shooting of the brother.”

  “The man attacked me with a knife, Chief Inspector, having recently stabbed my wife. You agreed that I was perfectly justified.”

  “I certainly feel you were justified. But still, a man is dead, without, shall I say, benefit of judge and jury. The matter will have to be dealt with. As for your wife, while we are all deeply sorry about such a tragedy, may I recommend that you do not bring her into your defence.”

  “My defence?”

  “You have killed a man, sir. A charge will have to be made. I have no doubt at all that if it is properly handled by your barrister it will turn out to be justifiable homicide, that is, self-defence. As for the gun, well, I will certainly testify on your behalf that you felt you were in some danger well before the murders, and although I could not possibly condone your carrying a weapon, I certainly cannot blame you for doing so.

  “But as I say,” Watt went on, “I consider it would be a grave mistake to allow any suggestion of revenge for your wife’s death to have played a part in your decision to shoot the young man. That is coming very close to malice aforethought, even if the aforethought was a matter of a second. Self-defence, Colonel. That’s the ticket.”

  “Thank you for the advice,” Berkeley said.

  “I take it you have a good solicitor, sir?”

  “I think I’ll give the case to my father-in-law,” Berkeley said.

  *

  The Horsfalls drove down from Northampton the moment they heard the news the following morning, their distress at the death of their only daughter aggravated by the circumstances and by the delay in informing them; Berkeley had simply not thought of it.

  Howard Horsfall, a successful solicitor, was only a couple of years older than his son-in-law, and neither he nor his wife had entirely approved of their daughter marrying a man more than twice her age. Equally, they remained suspicious of Berkeley’s background, always officially described as that of military attaché but fairly widely known to have included some unsavoury incidents. That Lucy had found it all very romantic, had appeared to be utterly happy and had presented them with a grandchild had been reassuring, but now . . .

  It was ten o’clock when they arrived; by then, the police had taken all the necessary photographs. Anna, Martina and the Lockwoods – Berkeley had decided the children should not go back to school this term – had cleaned up the blood in the front hall, on the stairs and in the kitchen. The house looked perfectly normal and the Horsfalls entered with an air of almost incredulous apprehension.

  Berkeley met them in the hall.

  “Where is she?” Howard demanded.

  “Lucy is in the morgue,” Berkeley said. “Along with my mother, Maria and the murderer. There will
have to be autopsies.”

  “Oh, my poor baby!” Joan Horsfall moaned and burst into tears.

  “Where is Baby Howard?” Horsfall demanded.

  “Upstairs in his playpen. He is perfectly unharmed.”

  “Thank God for that. But what happened?”

  Berkeley had already determined that as all the facts would have to come out at Helen’s trial, nothing would be gained by prevaricating.

  “I’m sorry to say that the assassins were after me,” he said.

  The Horsfalls stared at him.

  “It’s a blood feud which goes back to when I served in the Balkans before the war,” Berkeley explained. “I found it necessary to kill a man, and his family undertook to avenge him. I had supposed that at this distance in time and space it was over and done with, but apparently I was wrong.”

  “You . . . caused this to happen?” Horsfall demanded.

  “I suppose you could say that, yes.”

  “You caused the death of our daughter, and you stand there, cool as a cucumber—”

  “I think you should remember that my mother also died in the attack,” Berkeley said. “As for being cool, I shot and killed Lucy’s murderer, and arrested his accomplice.”

  “But Lucy is still dead!”

  He and his wife gazed at Anna and the Savoses who, hearing the raised voices, had appeared in the drawing room doorway.

  “Colonel and Mrs Savos,” Berkeley introduced. “Anna, you know. Mr and Mrs Horsfall, Lucy’s parents.”

  “Oh, madame, what a tragedy,” Martina said.

  “You were here?”

  “We had just arrived, to stay with Lucy and Berkeley.”

  “You saw it happen?”

  “We came home just after it happened,” Berkeley explained. “Anna and I had picked Alexandros and Martina up from the station. The murderers were still in the house.”

  “And Berkeley shot one of them,” Savos said.

  “I wish to see Baby Howard,” Joan Horsfall declared.

  “Of course. Anna?”

  Anna led her step-grandmother up the stairs.

  “You shot the fellow?” Horsfall enquired. “Just like that?”

  “It was him or me. I gather I will have to be charged, but according to Peter Watt if my case is properly presented I will be acquitted on the grounds of justifiable manslaughter, that is, self-defence. However, I will need a capable barrister. I’d be very happy if you’d find one and handle the case for me.”