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

“We could all do with some cash at times,” interjected Katie. They all laughed at the earnest note in her voice. But at least her comment had moved the conversation onto a lighter vein.

  It was now late afternoon and Ralph wanted to get back to London before the winter evening overtook them. Having thanked their host for a marvelous day out and a chance to see their home, they were soon back on the train and heading for Kings Cross. As they settled back in what was by normal standards an empty train, they shared their experiences of the day.

  ***

  Inspector Linham had phoned Grant Richardson to find out if he could throw any more light on the Rabinsky case. He had found Richardson’s answers vague about when and where he bought the paintings he had loaned to Dorich House. He could not recall where he had bought them other than that it was in a small gallery in the back streets of St Petersburg. He offered to check with the records that he held as part of their provenance, but he warned that that would take some time, as he would have to travel to Coutts Bank in London where they were held. He explained to Linham that he had once met Rabinsky years ago at Christie’s, but that he had let Cynthia Harper make all the arrangements for the revaluation and was just glad that the paintings were now safely back at Dorich House. It appeared that Grant Richardson was just a wealthy art dealer and no more. He updated Wilson on what he had found out.

  “Well he looks pretty genuine to me, Wilson.”

  “Not quite, Sir. I asked some of my pals over at Customs and Excise Branch, and they tell me that he is being investigated for bringing works of art into the country without declaring their true value or source of origin. They have no firm evidence yet, but they are keeping a close eye on his activities.”

  “I doubt if there’s any art dealer worth his salt that doesn’t get into that sort of trouble occasionally, Wilson, and I expect our Mr. Richardson is no different from the rest. I think we need to concentrate on that bloke Paul Scott. I have a hunch that we’ll find that his involvement in shipping those paintings for the University and Rabinsky’s murder could all be linked in some way.”

  ***

  Ralph was working on his list of contacts when he received a call from Granger’s secretary. Granger wanted him to come in that afternoon as something had come up that involved Sarah Winton. Ralph had to collect some work that Janet was doing for him anyhow and agreed to be there at 2 o’clock.

  Sarah was already in Granger’s office when he got there and she looked a bit shaken. Ralph recalled what Katie had told him about the connection between Sarah’s husband and the shipper Paul Scott. He wondered if Sarah had mentioned anything to Granger, although he couldn’t think why she would.

  “Thanks for coming in, Ralph. There has been a case of petty pilfering at the Knights Park campus where Professor Winton teaches. The VC asked me to look into it as I am on the University Security Committee. They targeted Sarah’s mailbox and office and some documents from her desk have been stolen. Our security people have investigated, of course, and they found that one of the female cleaners, Anna Kravishili, had been paid to intercept Sarah’s mail. I have spoken to the VC and he agrees with me that we will not be involving the police as we want to avoid any adverse publicity. Sarah has agreed it’s the right way to play things.” He turned to Sarah who nodded her agreement. Granger continued.

  “Naturally we sacked the cleaner after she confessed. But there are some worrying aspects, Ralph, particularly in the light of the conversation we had with the police the other day about the Rabinsky case. The Kravishili woman is originally from Serbia, although her father was Georgian. She had been sent a letter in which she had been told to send any packages that turned up in Sarah’s mail box to a post office box which she seems to remember was in London, but she swears that no packages had turned up. She said that she knew nothing about papers from Sarah’s desk having been stolen and had lost the details of the PO Box number and she had probably thrown it away. The letter she received also had 500 pounds inside which she had sent home to her family in Serbia. Sarah knows all about this as she has been involved in all the internal enquiries. Am I right Sarah?”

  “Yes. That’s exactly what happened. My fear is that it’s all linked to that report or memory stick that Ivan spoke about sending me. It still hasn’t arrived and I think that whoever was trying to intercept my mail wanted to get their hands on it. It’s all a bit scary thinking that someone out there knows who I am and will go to such lengths to get their hands on that memory stick. Now, what with poor Ivan being murdered, I’m afraid I could be their next target.”

  Ralph could see that blurting out her concerns had left her shaken. It was a side of her that Ralph didn’t expect. But as usual Granger stepped in.

  “Look, this could just be some stupid prank by one of your students. It could just be someone wanting to intercept something about someone in their class being involved in plagiarism or just plain old cheating. It’s happened before. Now we’ve got rid of the culprit who was tampering with your mail, I expect that we will hear no more about it. This time we managed to clear up the mystery without you, Ralph,” Granger laughed. He was obviously trying to play the whole thing down, especially as adverse publicity would only further jeopardize his chances of promotion.

  “So let’s just wrap this one up and get back to work. And remember, I expect you to keep it strictly off the record. Do I make myself clear?” Ralph knew that he did not expect a reply. Rhetorical questions were a Granger specialty.

  Later that week Ralph met up with Peter and David for a beer. Since he had commenced his sabbatical he hadn’t got much chance for a chat with his pals and he missed the comradeship that was an aspect of college life that he valued. The Kings Arms was not popular with the younger set, but it was ideally suited for those seeking a quiet haven by the river. Ralph automatically hunched his six foot frame as he navigated the low ancient oak beams that supported the yellow and stained ceiling. Years of pipe smoking had almost obliterated what was at one time a lime washed white. His friends were already settled beside the inglenook fireplace. The logs crackled and gave off the occasional spark of flames. It was the perfect setting for a chat among friends. Peter had bought the first round and Ralph’s whiskey was waiting in front of the space they had made for him between them.

  “We thought you weren’t going to make it,” Peter said as Ralph clapped his friends on their shoulders before he sat down. “We thought maybe you had ditched us now that you’re rubbing shoulders with Sarah and her rich arty friends.”

  Peter was always trying to provoke a reaction. It was his way of keeping the conversation from becoming serious.

  “Well funnily enough, it is turning out to be a bit of a junket,” Ralph smiled as he savored his whiskey. “Although, as with most things, there is a downside.”

  “What, no free trips to tour the galleries of the western world?” Peter quipped.

  “Okay, Peter, at least let Ralph have a sip of his single malt before you light in.”

  Ralph was happy to see that the dynamics hadn’t changed in his brief absence. He proceeded to update them on what had happened in the past few weeks, but remembered his promise to Granger to keep the break-in at Knights Park and the sacking of the cleaner to himself.

  “It sounds like you’ve got yourself tangled up in quite a web of intrigue and mayhem, old chum,” David remarked. “That Sarah sounds quite a challenge.”

  “I’m not surprised that she was able to con you into running her errand to that bloke Rabinsky,” interjected Peter. “Not that you actually saw him since he snuffed it before you turned up. Probably just as well, or you might have been the one found with a broken neck. Then I’d have the dirty job of consoling Katie and Jane and probably that little barmaid you take out from time to time as well. I’m not sure I’m up to it any longer.” Having set the cat among the pigeons, Peter took a long drink from his pint.

  Ralph was used to Peter starting off the evening with a bit of a taunt. He was becoming more disinter
ested in his teaching than ever and took out his frustrations on his closest friends. They were used to it. David, ever the peace maker and diplomat stepped in.

  “I’ll get the next round, chaps. Anyone else want something to eat while I’m at it? How about some of the landlord’s fine pork pie, pickles, some young French bread and old cheddar cheese? That should keep us going as it’s a ghastly night out there.”

  “A ploughman’s will do me fine,” Ralph said as he tossed a twenty pound note onto the table. “Just my contribution for the food,” he explained. “And make mine a half pint of lager this time, got to watch my weight now that I’m being wined and dined as a full time job.”

  “Make mine the same,” Peter yelled after David’s retreating back.

  “While our host is setting that up you can tell us about your latest theories, Ralph,” David said when he returned to the table. “A whodunit on a windy dark night sounds just the ticket.”

  “Yes, you’re right, David”, exclaimed Peter. “Let’s make a night of it. Go ahead, Ralph. Take us into the mind of Sherlock Holmes and we can be your Watsons.” They all laughed. The evening had begun on a high note.

  “It all began off with that dinner at Dorich House. It seemed harmless at first, then when Rabinsky was murdered and Linham started to link the killing of that driver to Paul Scott, and in a way to Sarah, it all got a bit sinister. Once I saw how much money was involved in selling paintings, even copies if they are old enough and good enough, and the lengths people will go to prove their paintings are worth a fortune, I could see why it can sometimes be a dangerous business.” David sat back wishing that he was allowed to smoke his pipe, but contented himself with simply chewing on the end. Always the advocate, he launched in.

  “But surely there’s a central argument or pivot around which all of this hinges, Ralph. It’s no different than when espousing a legal argument. Establish the main objective or outcome, produce your premise, go through the steps in your argument to support your premise and then sum up with a clear statement of benefits and burdens associated with the recommended action.”

  “I’m glad I’m just a poor simple minded musician,” groaned Peter. No wonder you legal beagles get headaches. Give me a good Beethoven discourse any time. Music is art too, you know. Excuse us for getting on with the tucker here Ralph, but you go on. As David said, give us your premise and we’ll see if we can punch some holes in it.”

  They all reached for the food that the publican had put on the table. As the three friends attacked the food, Ralph began to put his story together.

  “Someone wants to make some money out of those paintings that Grant Richardson owns and they will go to any length to do it. And obviously Grant and his wife want to maximize the value of their assets.”

  “You mean sell them for more than they’re worth,” Peter interrupted. You business types make things too complicated,” he said, reaching for the pickles.

  Ralph ignored the jibe and continued.

  “If Rabinsky discovered that they were painted by someone famous and worth a fortune, then why bother to write it in a report? Calling Grant or Cynthia Harper would seem the obvious thing to do. If on the other hand he found that they were fakes, or suspected the provenance, then I can see why he might want to talk to Sarah first.” Ralph paused.

  “But she was just a friend. His client was the University; they had commissioned the work and the paintings were in their care,” interjected David.

  “Well, whatever he had discovered, he must have told someone. If he was in some way mixed up with the wrong people or under pressure from someone he owed money to he might have contacted them in order to do a deal. Maybe he even tipped someone off so that they could pretend to break into his workshop and steal them. And maybe he misjudged his confidents. Perhaps it was even someone with links to the Chechen mafia who might have killed him to ensure his silence.” Ralph paused.

  “But you said the paintings were safely back at Dorich House,” said Peter. “So they haven’t been stolen.”

  “Well we don’t know that for sure,” Ralph explained. “Rabinsky may have told someone they were valuable and arranged for copies to be made. For all we know the paintings that are now hanging in Dorich House could be copies while the real ones are being sold off somewhere,” said Ralph.

  “Look, I’m no artist, but I know that it takes me a week just to paint the kitchen at home, so how could anyone copy three old masters in a few weeks? It sounds unlikely, old sport,” Peter interjected. “I think you need to go back to the easel with that one, Ralph.” Peter laughed at his attempted joke.

  Ralph realised that his logic simply wouldn’t stand up to scrutiny, especially not by the sharp minds of his adversaries sitting around the table. But his gut feeling told him that he was on the right track, even if some of the pieces were missing. He decided to plow ahead.

  “It is possible that Rabinsky and Grant were in cahoots. Grant could have arranged for Rabinsky to put out the rumour that these were in fact the old paintings as shown on the provenance, but that the artist was in fact someone famous, and that he could prove it. That way, when they came on the market the private collectors would pay a lot to get hold of them, and Grant would make a nice little bundle,” argued Ralph. Peter leant forward.

  “But how could he keep Rabinsky quiet? Bribery? Or they might have been doing business together for years, for all we know. That might have even been why Rabinsky left Christie’s. But if the stakes were really high would he actually kill Rabinsky to keep him quiet? Peter was now getting enthusiastic about his deductions. “Grant could have even faked the paper trail. It’s been done before. There was a similar scandal with some of Mozart’s works. Someone faked a composition and then pretended that he found it in an attic in Salzburg.”

  “Okay,” David interceded. “All of this speculation is very entertaining, but neither of you have a shred of evidence to back any of it up. It simply wouldn’t hold up in a court of law.”

  Ralph reflected on what Granger had told him about the attempts to intercept the memory stick Rabinsky had sent to Sarah. Getting hold of that stick would reveal what Rabinsky had discovered and make it easier to determine why he had been killed. But he also remembered how much interest Boris Sarovsky and John Weston had shown in the photographs Grant had shown them about the paintings. It was possible that one of them had tried to steal the paintings from Rabinsky’s workshop and it had all gone terribly wrong. But then if Grant had been involved in a scam with Rabinsky to pretend that they were worth more than originally thought, why would he now be so keen to sell them? The report had never been recovered and Rabinsky’s findings had been lost forever when he died. He realised that his friends were waiting for his response, but since those were things he was not at liberty to disclose, he merely shrugged.

  “You seem to have reached the end of your deductions, Ralph. So what have you concluded, if anything? It sounds like more questions than answers; a bit like your lecturing style, from what I’ve heard,” said Peter, with a laugh.

  “Well, maybe Grant is just cashing in so that he can start a new phase in his life. I get the feeling that he is fed up with all the stress of working for other people. I think that someone simply found out that Rabinsky had discovered something important about those three paintings and made the mistake of telling someone else. It was possible that he even tried to do a deal with someone to steal the paintings and it all went wrong. My guess is that whomever he told was part of the Chechen mafia or one of their agents. Boris Sarovsky could be the link to the mafia, and being Russian he could well have known Rabinsky on a social level, although as far as I know Rabinsky didn’t know John Weston, or at least not very well. That’s my guess so far,” said Ralph as he finished his beer.

  “It’s good to hear that they are only guesses, Ralph. No facts and no proof. So my advice would be that you concentrate on enjoying your sabbatical. You just get those benefactors lined up and you will be the hero of the year. If you
get too close to those mafia guys you could finish up – well you know,” said David.

  It was getting late and the three friends joked about their varied lives as they made their way out into the cold night air. David agreed to drive Peter home and Ralph was glad to be heading for an early night. The week had been tiring and he needed time to refocus.

  ***

  Ralph did not sleep well. The conversation with his friends the previous evening had played on his mind. Once he had finished his breakfast he telephoned Grant and told him what Katie had discovered about Boris Sarovsky and John Weston because he was worried that Grant might be in some sort of danger. He was surprised that Grant seemed unconcerned about their shady backgrounds.

  “Thanks for the heads up Ralph, but you know the art world has always had its characters. I’m sure that Boris and John are par for the course. At the moment I’m more concerned about a break-in at the offices I use in the town. I’ve no idea what they were looking for as nothing seems to have been taken.”

  “What did the police say?”

  “Well I don’t like to bother the police with trivia like this. They’re pretty busy chasing students who’ve have had a bit too much to drink. Not that we were saints in our days, ourselves, Ralph,” he laughed conspiratorially.

  Ralph shared his concerns that Rabinsky’s report and the break-in at Grant’s office might be linked to Rabinsky’s murder.

  “You don’t think it’s possible that someone thought that Rabinsky had sent you a copy of his report and was after it?”

  “It’s possible, Ralph, but that was a long time ago now. Mind you, the break-in was a while ago as well, I suppose. When we were in Moscow we sent some contracts to the office, and that’s how we knew someone had broken in. We never saw the contracts again. So I’ll have to think about that. But again, thanks for the tip. Look I’ve got to rush now. Elizabeth wants to go shopping for a new dress for some do or other. Women, don’t you just love them? Oh, and by the way, I’ve had some good offers for the paintings from Boris and John, but we’ve decided to auction them at the Christie’s in Paris and see if that will push the price up. I’ll let you and Katie know the dates and perhaps we can meet up there and go out for a meal or take in a show? Well, must dash, Ralph. Take care.”