(Part 1)

Chapter 1

Sunday September the third 1939, was exactly one week ago when Musgrove heard the news on the radio that Britain had declared war on Germany. His fears for mass conflict had been given life on that day. He had known for a long time that things were bad, his friend and colleague Bill Evans had told him as much. And who better than Bill to know, with his old boy network, his friends in the security services and his old school chums now in all branches of the government. Musgrove sat in the window seat of this public house idly turning his unwanted pint of beer as he waited for Bill. His wife had received a message from Bill asking Musgrove to meet him in this tavern as he had something important to discuss. Bill was not one to be mellow dramatic so Inspector David Musgrove sat and waited patiently for his friend.
After a minute or two Bill came through the lounge door holding a large Gin and tonic. Bill was, if nothing else, highly punctual. He greeted Musgrove with a warm friendly smile. The two men were comfortable in each others company; there was an unspoken bond that bound them together. They were from two different worlds, two different backgrounds but their work had forged the links that had drawn them together. After the pleasantries that convention dictates the smile drained from Bill’s face and at once Musgrove knew that this was no normal meeting, not even in their most serious of cases had he seen Bill look like this. “Ok Bill, what’s the problem?” Musgrove, with his detectives mind tried to see behind the eyes, to see before being told, but in this case he had no idea what was going on. This it would seem was too close to home for him to deduce anything from Bill’s demeanor, manner or speech. Bill looked at Musgrove and without averting his eyes or making any other involuntary movement said “Dave, I’m quitting. I’m leaving the force.” Although Musgrove gave no external indication that this had shocked him, inside he physically jumped. With only a slight pause he went on. “It’s not because I want to, it’s because I feel I have to. As you know I have many contacts in what some may term; strange places. I have been requested to go and work for the government. To be quite honest Dave if they had not come to me I would have gone to them”. All the time he had been talking, Bill had been idly playing with a paper serviette that had been left on the table. “I can’t tell you who I will be working for or where I will be but suffice to say it is most secret”. Bills well manicured fingernail was now marking the serviette in a deliberate manner, but to the casual observer it seemed to be just a plaything for idle hands. “Perhaps,” Bill went on, “You can get someone to keep my seat warm till I get back.” Dave’s eyes glanced down at the serviette that Bill had been marking, the lines that Bill had marked out clearly spelt SOE with a line and underneath SCU. In an instant Bill began to fold the serviette into smaller and smaller squares and then placed it in his pocket. Musgrove gave Bill a quizzical look. “So when am I going to lose you, will it be next month?” “Fraid not Dave, it’s all been dealt with at the highest level and I’ll be gone the moment I stand up from this seat, I have been working in tandem for three months now. In my time off I have been briefed on different aspects of security etc. When I leave you will see two men who are now sitting at the far right table follow me out. They will be driving me to my new quarters.” Musgrove looked rather put out at this. “Oh for Christ sake Bill you’ve not even given me a chance to get used to the idea.” “Not my call I’m afraid my friend, these orders come from a lot higher than you, me or even Scotland Yard. I believe that even the Commissioner has been told what’s happening and has had no say in the matter. In fact this meeting is a courtesy to me by those in high places. Otherwise I would have been just gone in the night, so to speak.” With this Bill stood up and offered his hand. “Bloody hell Bill I’m going to really miss you.” Musgrove watched as his friend and colleague walked to the door and out of his life, and sure enough as Bill made his exit the two men got up from their seats and followed him out. On the small table at that window seat sat on empty Gin and tonic glass and one pint of beer almost full. It seemed symbolic of the difference and the sameness of the two men; both drinks were alcohol but of entirely different types and origins.
Musgrove’s little MG PA dawdled down the lanes returning from his meeting with Bill, his two seater sports car was his pride and joy, coming a close second to his family. He eventually came to a halt on the embankment, put his hand over the low cut door and opened it with the outside handle. He took a few steps closer to the railing and watched the waters of the Thames glide gently by. Taking his pipe from his pocket he began to suck on the stem drawing a little air through the empty bowl. Although he carried with him the means to fire this pipe up he never did, he used it as an aid to thought but not much else. It had felt the heat of flame but on only a few occasions and then for only a moment or two. He stood looking at the Palace of Westminster across the river and sensed his place of work to his left even though he could not see it. The headquarters of the London Metropolitan Police. The force in which he served with pride; the force that was created in 1829 by Sir Robert Peel and housed at 4 Whitehall Place. His mind went back to Bill and his meeting in the pub, to the serviette and the initials marked on it. He was sure he had seen them before or something like them. No doubt it would come to him, he knew it was Bill’s way of saying, “This is where I am,” without actually saying it. The thing was what would tomorrow bring? Britain was now at war with Germany, his friend and colleague had left him; so what next?
It was still early when Musgrove walked into the outer office where the three secretaries had their desks. Dust swirled and danced in the sun beams that came through the large but narrow windows. There was that familiar smell of old wood, of history and yes if truth be known a sense of power that seeped from the walls of this old building. He walked through his office door followed smartly by one of the secretaries. Although all the secretarial duties were meant to be shared without favour, the girls had split up their duties for their own benefit and Janet had placed Musgrove firmly on her desk. She had worked with him for a good number of years now, and of course with time came the familiarity of long association. She knew just how far to go with Musgrove but never crossed the line and always but always addressed him as sir. “Has sir been a naughty boy?” She said with a cheeky smile. Musgrove turned and with a gentle smile said “Now Janet what makes you think that?” “Well I received a call first thing this morning to say that you are to make yourself available to take a call from the commissioner at nine-o-clock.” “Ah yes the Commissioner, yes well that was to be expected”. Then with another gentle smile “Ok Janet that’s all for now, I’m not taking any calls until after the Commissioner. Any chance of tea?” “In a moment sir the pot is warming.” Janet turned to leave and caught sight of Bills desk, none of the normal things were there, it was empty and bare with only the odd scrap of paper to mar the green leather inlay. In a moment she stopped, “Sir, Bills desk?” There was hesitancy in her voice that betrayed her nervousness. Musgrove looked up from the floor where with hand under chin he had been pondering the polished wood flooring. “Oh yes, my fault Janet, I should have said.” Musgrove looked at the empty desk unable to visualize who would next be sat behind it. “Yes, well Bill’s left us I’m afraid.” He knew the girls would be upset if he had just up and gone without saying goodbye to them. “He asked me to tell you and the others that he has enjoyed working with you all and will miss you greatly. He also said he would like to thank you for a wonderful stay. He didn’t want to say goodbye because he said he’ll be coming back, as it happens he has been seconded to do war work for the time being.” The smile returned to Janet’s lips. “Oh that’s all right then, I thought for a moment he was trying to get out of paying me that sixpence he owes me for the tea fund.” The door closed behind Janet with an audible click, then silence.
Musgrove was now left alone with his thoughts. He walked slowly round to the window at the rear of his desk and looked out. From where he was he could see down into the yard where police cars came and went, constables in uniform moved out onto the streets of London; and beyond that the heaving mass of humanity went about their daily lives. It was an uncertain world for all of them with the dark shadow of death coming closer by the minute. Oh yes war had been declared, but no bombs had fallen on an English street and no civilian had yet been killed. But that’s what war meant; the deaths of people whether or not they be in the army, bombs and bullets don’t discriminate as to the flesh that they destroy.
The bell on the phone rang its piercing cry that made Musgrove start from his mental wanderings. He picked up the large bakelite hand piece and placed the cold circle against his ear. A small tiny voice spoke to him, “Inspector Musgrove there is a call for you. I’m connecting you now”. A mans voice came on. “Musgrove It’s the Commissioner here”. The voice was urgent and forceful. “Yes Commissioner”. “No doubt you have been brought up to date about this Evans thing? Bad show this; it seems that even I take a back seat to these security people now. Anyway, owing to the war we have been given a body to replace Bill. And due to the fact that the forces in general require fit and healthy people we have the pick of what’s left. So your replacement will be there at eleven today. I have his file here and I’m going to give you a quick run down. His name is Richard Harvey Jones and he is twenty five years old. Grammar school to university, very intelligent, speaks four languages, French, German, Spanish and enough of Russian to get by. Let’s just hope he can speak bloody English. Oh yes, and he won’t be called up to serve Queen and country, because he has only one leg. Well only one that is his anyway, he has a false right leg from the knee down. Lost it at the age of seven playing on a railway line. So don’t go asking him to chase after any criminals. Right that’s all I’ll send the file over as soon as possible. You got anything for me?” Musgrove sat with bowed head sucking on the unlit pipe that he had absent mindedly taken from his pocket. “No sir that’s fine; got the picture”. “Good”, came back the reply, "Now once you two are acquainted give me a ring at one o clock, I’ve told my secretary to put you straight through, I may have a job for you. I just need confirmation of one or two more details and these I should have by one. Good luck with your new partner.” There was a loud click as the phone went dead.
Musgrove passed the time until eleven catching up on the paperwork which Bill usually did, at least his new partner could fill in doing that if nothing else. There was a light tap on the door and Janet came in, “There’s a Mr. Jones to see you inspector Musgrove.” “Very well Janet show him in.” Musgrove was a little surprised at his appearance, for some reason he had expected a slim young man, rather short with black hair and wearing thick glasses. Instead there stood before him a tall muscular man of handsome appearance with well groomed blonde hair. Musgrove stood up and offered his hand, “Mr. Jones, please take a seat.” The young man sat down and deftly arranged his false leg in order for him to sit comfortably. It was done in such a manner that it could be seen that years of practice had perfected the technique. Musgrove sat back in his chair and took out his pipe. “Ok let’s get what may be an embarrassment to both of us out of the way, so we can speak about the real purpose of this meeting. The leg; in your working life how much of a drawback is it and how will it affect you working for me?" The young man gave a disarming smile, “Well in my working life it affects me not at all. For the last twelve months I have been lecturing in University as a criminologist, because that is as close as my disability would allow me to get to the police force. Then out of the blue I was offered the opportunity to actually join up, so to speak. How will it affect me working here? As long as the work is academic I see no problem. If you have a criminal whose preferred method of escape is swimming, then that one I can catch. In the water I have stamina and if I say so myself, I’m fast. If you want me to climb fences and run down dark allies then I admit I’m not your man.” Musgrove smiled inside, this accounted for his muscular appearance. “What about paperwork, can you handle reports, filling cabinets and the like?” “It’s my bread and butter. I take short hand, touch type at forty words per minute and have a certificate in accountancy.” “Stop right there,” said Musgrove, “You’re the man for me. Next question, are you married? Because working for me means that you may be away from home for weeks at a time. Some of my cases take me a long way from London.” “No sir, I live with my mother and father but they live in Brighton and I need to find somewhere for tonight, my case is actually just outside now.” The inspector laughed out loud. "Don’t worry about that, have no fear I’ll sort you somewhere to lay your head tonight. Right, welcome on board, you’ve found a home. And just as a starter, see all this paper on my desk, take it and put it on your desk over there and make yourself at home. You will make yourself welcome if you give Janet sixpence for the tea fund, the last person to sit at that desk ran off without paying.” Musgrove got up from his seat and moved briskly to the door, he chuckled as he closed the door behind him and left.
He made his way down two flights of stairs then along a small corridor and came to an anonymous door with one frosted glass panel. Without a pause he turned the knob and walked in. He was now in the domain of Frank Simons, a portly balding middle age man with reddening cheeks. Frank was one of those people that seemed to come with the territory; someone who it seemed had always been there and knew everybody and everything. He was by no means the same rank as Musgrove but this was his land and no one but no one was able to outrank him here. He was in charge of all the thousands of files active and dead for the whole of the Metropolitan area; if you wanted to know something he was the one to ask. “Hi Dave make it quick, cos I really am busy. Especially since war has been declared, you just would not believe the extra work that that has caused. I’ve got people and organizations ringing up and writing wanting information on Tom, Dick and Harry as well as their families, and I’ve not heard of half of them.” All the time he was talking he was moving papers, pounding others with a stamp and tramping from desk to filing cabinet and back again. “It’s like this,” Musgrove said, “What do you know about SOE or SCU?” Frank stopped all he was doing and slowly put his papers down; there was a moments silence as he looked at Dave in a very quizzical manner. “Where did you get those initials from Dave, who’ve you been talking to?” He had the feeling that these were very murky waters he was treading in and better take care as to what he said. “It was mentioned by an informant, but only in passing and I just wanted to see if it had any bearing on my investigation.” Frank walked across to a fireproof door and slid it open, the heavy steel door glided silently on its runners, this was the sanctum of sanctums. A cavernous windowless room where all the records were stored, not only was this room fireproof it was also soundproof. He beckoned Dave in as he turned on the light and closed the door. “Well Dave since it’s you I’ll tell you what I know, but when I say not to mention it again I really mean it. These are the people that have cart blanc to do whatever they have to in order to ensure this countries safety. You may consider that you uphold the law but in their world there is no law, understand?" Musgrove always knew that there was a secret service but had no idea how wide spread or effective they were. “So," Frank went on, “SOE Special Operations Executive and SIS Secret Intelligence Service basically drink from the same cup, I don’t know any details; it’s all spy stuff. Your SCU is Special Communications Unit I know even less about them but that’s more spy stuff, the only other one I’ve heard of is PWE. All I know of them is their initials and I have no idea what they do. So I suggest you forget what I have just said because these are shadows in dark allies and untouchable.” By now Musgrove had pulled out his pipe and was running the stem across his lower lip. “Thanks Frank you don’t know what a help you’ve been, and no I have no intention of playing in their game.” Just as he finished speaking he pulled out his Minerva nine caret gold pocket watch and looked at the time. It had been an anniversary present from his wife, circa nineteen twenty nine and fully hall marked. It was one of his few personal possessions that he really cared about. “I’d better get back someone is expecting a call from me.” And with that he thanked Frank once again for being so forthcoming and was gone. He made his way from the total silence of Frank’s inner sanctum to the noise and clatter of the building that he knew. All the while pondering on the world that his friend and colleague had entered into. There were inherent dangers in his own field of expertise; there were dangers that both he and Bill had shared over the years. But the world of the spy, of espionage and sudden death; this was something else again. Not knowing who was friend or foe, unable to confide in anyone and death by firing squad if caught. At least he knew his enemy, the criminal was one side of the fence and he was the other. The thought now crossed his mind that he may never see Bill again, if he elected to be dropped behind enemy lines not only may he not see him again but he may never know his final resting place. Although he had great admiration for Bill and the courage that he had, nevertheless he still found himself saying out loud “You bloody fool Bill.”
He gave a quick hello to the girls as he passed through the outer office and into his own. “Hi Richard, how are you doing with that paper work?” “About another hour and a half and I think that should do it. I’ve placed some on your desk that need your signature and given Janet some that require duplication. I’ve also started to re-jig the filing system so that it will be simpler in the future. If that’s ok by you sir?” “Good show, from now on the whole of the paperwork is yours and just put anything that seems important and requires my signature in my in tray. Also when we are in the office remind me to clear it by four o clock. Now pick up your phone and press that red button, listen in and put your hand over the mouth piece and say nothing.” He then walked to the door and taking a card from a small file slid it into the guides on a glass pane next to the door. From the outside it read “In conference do not disturb”. He sat down behind his desk and gave a little nod to Richard who nodded in return and then picked up the phone and dialed zero.

Chapter 2

“Hello operator this is inspector Musgrove can you please put me through to the commissioner’s office thank you?” After a short while a female voice came on the line. “Hello the Commissioner’s office here, can I help you?” “It’s Inspector Musgrove here I believe the commissioner is expecting my call”? “Oh of course Inspector, I’ll put you through directly”. After a matter of seconds the Commissioner came on the line “Hello Musgrove, I’ve got a job for you, German refugees! There is already a messenger on the way to your office with what files we have on this case and I want you to go and see if you can sort this out. It’s a little tricky because it involves foreign nationals who have come over here seeking asylum. Unfortunately one of them is dead. And it’s definitely murder. One of our doctors has completed an autopsy on the body and his report is still in his hands and he is waiting for you, his name...” There was a pause and a shuffling of papers could be heard. “His name is Robert Philips. He will meet you at the Unicorn Hotel to speak with you, by the way that’s at a place called Derrington on the north edge of Dartmoor. There’s a driver and a car in the yard at your disposal and he has instructions to drive you there by tonight.” All the while Musgrove and Jones sat listening intently to every word. “The scene of the crime however is about four miles from the village at an old manorial residence called The Priest Lodge. The East wing has been loaned to the refugees and the owner and his wife are living in the West wing, seemingly that is somewhat smaller. At the moment there are a couple of local coppers standing guard on the place just in case somebody tries to do a runner. Anyway that it, all other relevant information is in the file. Right, you got any questions?” “I don’t think so sir.” “Good, now I want you down there as soon as; that doctor leaves at ten tomorrow morning so the sooner you start the better. Ok, that’s it and good luck.” There was a click and the line went dead. “Well Richard now you know where your head will rest tonight. In some backwater hotel on the borders of Dartmoor." A Messenger arrived with the file as they had been told, and so as not to waste any time they got some sandwiches and tea from the canteen then made their way to the waiting car. At one thirty the unmarked police car left the yard and entered onto the public highway.
The car was a 1936 twelve horse power Armstrong Siddeley, larger than the standard Wolseley patrol car and noted for its technical innovation of pre selector gears. There were three such vehicles on hand at the yard and used for long distance work or special functions. The rear seats were very spacious with small pull down seats built into the back of the driver and front passenger seats. This particular vehicle also had a glass partition fitted to give privacy for the passengers traveling in the rear. With this partition closed and the vehicle moving at a steady pace, Musgrove turned to Richard, “Ok lets do some work, get the file out and well go through it and familiarize ourselves with those involved. It’s no good turning up there without a clue as to who these people are. Right so how many are we dealing with?” After finding the appropriate section, Richard began. “Well I think we ought to dispense with those in the West wing as there is no connection now between East and West wing so effectively they have no contact with the refugees and therefore are not involved. Would you agree sir?” Musgrove was now holding the pipe stem against his lips and with eyes shut said. “Only as a temporary measure, but not to be dismissed. These are the owners of the building and who better to know a way to bypass the normal entrances and exits. Think of it in this way, we are led to believe that this is a manor of some type, the name The Priest Lodge indicates that at some point it had some ties to those of a religious persuasion. Now it is possible that it has a secret or hidden place to accommodate priests; i.e. Priest holes or the like. But I agree that it is unlikely that those in residence would have a motive to murder a refugee that one presumes they have had no contact with.” Richard listened intently and could find no fault in the logic. “Ok,” said Richard moving on, “That brings us to the residents of the East wing then.”
They were now out in the country, the leaves and twigs that lay at the side of the road danced and swirled as the car made its way down the leafy byways. Had the ride been for any other reason but that of catching a murderer, the journey would have been most agreeable. But as it was the occupants were captivated by the task in hand. “Starting at the top, so to speak, the victim is a young man by the name of Otto Bergmann, technical draftsman 24, anti Nazi, found naked in an empty bath. Suspected of a heart attack, but we await the doctor to give us the true cause and medical details”. Musgrove’s elbow rested on the window frame and with his head forward resting on his hand he listened intently to his new colleague. “This is just the bare bones sir; I think it advisable to get an overview first of those involved before we start delving into details of their past. Would you agree, or would you prefer that I give you all know information on each individual?” “Good God no! Let’s have the overview first. The human brain can only assimilate a certain amount of information at any one time. No; a run down on names, ages and gender etc. will do for starters.” Richard turned the pages of the file to and fro, as if he were filing away facts and the order in which he was to present them. “Very well, we begin with the staff of the East wing. Starting with the gardener and because of the nature of his work has responsibility for the whole of the grounds and not just the East wing. Due to his partial deafness he is excused military service. Name, John Scott, age 42, worked the grounds since he left school. His son now works with him, aged 14. By the way his son has replaced a Mr. Robert Harris who is now in the Royal Engineers. I thought I’d just get them out of the way because they are the only resident workers with any connection to the East wing as they have access to that kitchen. All others are fairly new or refugees.
The man in charge is called Steven Wright; he is a government employee whose last position was as the director of an orphanage. One of the main reasons he was chosen for this was he is fluent in German.” Musgrove held up his hand as if to stop the flow. It certainly had the desired effect as Richard immediately stopped speaking and looked at his new boss. “Since Wright has fluent German he is the one that we shall use in all conversations as the interpreter as and when necessary. How good is your German Richard?” “Well sir, I would say perfect. I have been told that my accent is one that may be heard on the German Austrian border.” “Good,” said Musgrove, “In that case we will let it be known that neither of us can speak German, that way if you keep your ears open you may hear something to our advantage. So be on your guard.” The idea of a little subterfuge really appealed to Richard and was mentally rubbing his hands with glee at the prospect. Richard moved on. “Cook; Mrs. Elizabeth Boardman, age 49 hired from an agency. Handyman James Reynolds hired from agency, age 35 charged with doing the odd jobs and assists with cleaning and meals. And the last of the hired in help is a Maid, by name, Sandra Trubshaw, age 35, hired from agency, general housekeeping duties and service of meals.” And so it went on as they gradually built up a picture of the place and people they were about to encounter.
The Unicorn Hotel was prominently sighted in the center of town/village, for it was a little larger than your common village but not as large as a full blown town. Being of three floors the white fronted hotel overlooked all other buildings around it, and hanging over the entrance to the public bar, the mandatory swinging sign depicting the head of a white unicorn. It could easily be seen that it had been an inn for many years, for in its centre was an arch leading into a court yard with a cobbled floor. It would not be difficult to imagine a coach and four, steel wheels clattering on the cobbles as it drew into the yard. And hostlers appearing from nowhere to attend to the steaming snorting horses. Bygone days from a bygone world, today the court yard would only serve as a car park for a police car and two other civilian cars.
After the tedium of signing in, finding the rooms and finally establishing a presence in the hotel, Musgrove eventually contacted Doctor Philips and arranged to meet him in the dining room for the evening meal. So it was that Musgrove and Jones made their way downstairs for their meeting with the good doctor. As it was the month of September there were not as many diners as one may have seen only a month ago. Musgrove was quite surprised as they sat down at the table to await the arrival of the doctor; this was not the cheap dining room that one may associate with a hotel in one of the bleakest parts of the country. Instead it had all accoutrements of a first class restaurant in the west end; even to providing a piano and pianist for entertainment. Musgrove was to find out later that the hotel catered for the well to do who came to the area for shooting parties and as a consequence had the means to attract that clientele.
The doctor was a balding round faced individual with reddening cheeks, his age was leaning towards the elderly but nevertheless gave indication of being of an intellectual and cultured background. Upon his arrival he laid a folder on the table and held out his hand in greeting. “Good evening Inspector. I take it you are Inspector Musgrove; it would be rather disconcerting if the younger of you were the inspector.” “Most certainly doctor, may I introduce my colleague detective constable Jones. He will be assisting me in this matter.” Jones offered his hand to the doctor and after a brief introduction they all sat down ready to conclude their business over a most welcome meal. The doctor took the folder from the table and offered it to Musgrove. “There you go inspector you may take that, inside you will find a detailed technical report of my autopsy findings. I will nevertheless give you a none technical run down on my findings so as to save you trawling through it to find a starting point. Unless of course you would prefer to do it yourself?” A smile crept across the lips of Musgrove. “Good lord no! I am perfectly happy, and relieved, that you are kind enough to guide us through this part of the investigation. I have no doubt that your input in this matter will be invaluable.” The doctor nodded and smiled in appreciation at the inspectors praise and began to continue, but was interrupted by the arrival of the meal. Musgrove took hold of the serviette from the table and made note of its intricate folds. It had been folded so as to look for all the world like a small boat, this he had never seen before and for a moment or two tried to remake it once he had unfolded it. This he soon gave up as he was distracted by the meal and the conversation. As the meal progressed the doctor began to expound upon his finding and thoughts on the case. “The body was found in the bath by one of the people staying there, no idea who, the local doctor initially thought that it was a heart attack until he examined the eyes and found the tell tale sings of suffocation at which point he called the police. They in turn removed the body to the morgue and I was called to do the autopsy. At first I could observe no obvious sign of trauma other than the afore mentioned burst vessels in the eyes and the discolouration to the lips. I then proceeded to make an incision to open up the chest cavity.” As Musgrove was enjoying his meal and as he presumed his new colleague was too, he hoped that the good doctor was not going to go into too much detail regarding this particular operation. At this point the doctor put down his knife and fork and dabbed his mouth with a napkin. “Fear not inspector, I will spare you both the intricacies of what followed, but it was necessary for you to know that I was dealing with the chest. There was a certain odour that came from the lungs; it is an odour that I as a doctor am quite familiar with. It was in fact the smell of trichlormethane, known commonly as chloroform. This chap had been rendered unconscious just prior to him being suffocated. You see if a person is rendered unconscious by this means the lungs will continue to inhale and exhale until the fumes and hence the smell is expelled from the body and that person recovers. On the other hand if a person becomes unconscious by this method and is then strangled, the lungs cease to function and the noxious fumes are then trapped, only to be released by a doctor’s knife. I have three other facts that may be of interest to you; firstly this young man was found naked in the bath as though he had sat down to bathe, his clothes on the floor. Two, I made to wash my hands in the basin only to find there was no water. Three, the victim had participated in the act of sex within the past twelve hours, if the water had been supplied to the bath and the taps turned on then all traces of that would have been washed away.” The two policemen were now finished their meal and were sharing a bottle of Chardonnay while the doctor however was still eating owing to him telling his tale. “That gentlemen, is about all I can tell you, whatever else you may need to know you will find between the covers of that folder.”
Like a sponge Musgrove had soaked it all up, although he gave no outward signs, he was excited inside. His mind had sought out the questions that for the moment there was no answer, but he had no doubt that eventually there would be. The two officers left the doctor to finish his meal alone as they went off to find a quiet seat in the lounge, there was a small table with two small seats in a far corner that they chose. The almost empty lounge had a soporific air to it, as the distant lilt of Danny Boy could be heard gently floating in from the piano in the dining room. “So Richard, give me your first thoughts?” Jones leant forward a little in a conspiratorial way. “Well, I think it a little odd that he was placed in the bath in the first place. Why not leave him where he was killed? I presume he wasn’t killed in the bath. It’s not the normal thing to go to a bathroom, take all your clothes off, then sit in an empty bath, while leaving the door open so a killer can walk in and send you to the hereafter.” Musgrove listened to what was being said but had already formed a mental picture of what had happened. What he was really doing was testing Richard Harvey Jones’s ability to make sense of some disjointed facts and come up with a plausible theory. “So if we assume that he was killed elsewhere what does that tell us?” Jones paused for a second or two and then repeated the question. “What does that tell us; oh I see, yes, he was moved because whoever killed him could not afford to have his body found where the act occurred”. “And" Musgrove said “Take that now just one step further." Harvey looked a little puzzled. “Sorry sir I’m not quite following you”. “Come on Richard think, how heavy is he? How easy would it be to move a dead man around?” The hint of a smile crept across his lips. “I see what your saying, killed elsewhere, moved to the bathroom, there had to be at least two to carry him.”
Musgrove had now retrieved his pipe from its hiding place and was gently sucking on the empty bowl. “Now there is a proviso to that of course. If we find some mechanical device on that floor, such as a tea trolley for instance, it may have been possible for the body to be moved in that fashion. It would be difficult but not impossible. So what else can we deduce from the given facts?” After a moments thought Richard said, “Now there could be a female involved in the murder, she could have lured him into a room on the pretext of sex and then killed him, and then got someone to help her move the body.” “You’re missing a point here Richard, but I’ll put that down to your age. The scenario you give is quite plausible save one small point; you have jumped to a conclusion that may be erroneous. Have you never heard of “He lieth, for his name is Shame” or heard the phrase, “The love that dare not speak its name” Oh well no matter, it speaks volumes for your upbringing and circle of friends. Perhaps this particular act of carnal knowledge was that of a homosexual?” “Now that had never crossed my mind.” Richard now found a new level of admiration for his new boss, oh yes he respected him as his employer but now began to see him in a different light. He also saw for the first time that Musgrove already knew all the answers that could be derived from the known facts, but was guiding him along the chain of evidence as one might guide an apprentice. “So Richard what else can you tell me about this case?” He sat going over in his mind what had just been said, perhaps he was tired, and perhaps it was the lateness of the night. Whatever it was Richard’s brain seemed not to want to function. Musgrove could see that his colleague was struggling so putting away his pipe said. “Go on off to your room and get to bed. Let your brain dwell on it overnight and tell me your thoughts tomorrow. But think on this, there is a deep dichotomy in this murder that stands out a mile, see if you can find it.” In a few moments Musgrove was alone with his thoughts and just trying to relax from the days events.
Morning broke, with sun shinning and a light breeze, all in all a very pleasant day. But this was lost on Musgrove as he sat at breakfast with Richard Jones. As the bacon and eggs arrived Musgrove said. “I presume you had a good night, so we will start from that premise. So that being the case and your brain cells being rested; go on, what’s your thinking on the known facts now?” “Well other than the water being none existant in that room I’m afraid I can think of any.” “Any thoughts on the opposing factions I spoke of last night?” Richard stopped eating, thought for a second or two. “I thought of what you said but once again I am at a loss as to understand where any of these facts come to oppose one another.” By now Musgrove had finished his meal and was wiping his hands on a serviette, then after taking a sip of orange juice said, “The man was moved from where he was killed to the bathroom, we agree on that?” Richard nodded his head in assent. “We are led to believe that he was overcome by trichlormethane, we agree on that?” Once more Richard nodded. “Very well, the use of a substance to incapacitate him prior to suffocation points to it being a premeditated act, it’s not normal to carry around that kind of substance on the off chance that you may need it. And since no one there is a doctor or nurse, no one in that building would be required to be in charge of it for business purposes. Hence it must have been acquired for that specific reason. Now since it was premeditated then one would assume that whoever committed the murder had also thought about the disposal of the body. For instance, they would not want to be carting a dead body all over the West wing. If they wanted it to appear that he had accidentally drowned, they would have made sure that the bathroom they took their victim to, was equipped with water. No the problem lies with the fact that on the one hand it was planned and on the other the body was got rid of in a spur of the moment manner. As I see it these two actions are diametrically opposed. To me at least it shows two different minds at work.”
Musgrove thought to himself, Now if that had been Bill he would most likely have beaten me to these conclusions. But the boy is young even if he is intelligent, it may be one thing to give lectures on cases that others have cracked, still another to crack those cases yourself. Time alone will tell, he could very well be a lot different after a few real cases. Bill had been a colleague and his equal in all things, he was a true partner. On the other hand this was just a boy; he was beginning to see him as a trainee, someone to look over and guide. To be shown the mental disciplines required in order to beat those of criminal intent. “Look to all aspects Richard, always remember all aspects. Now we go to work, tell the driver to bring the car round in fifteen minutes and I’ll meet you outside.”



Chapter 3

The car sped along the lanes until it approached The Priest Lodge. As the gate came into view the driver took his police cap from the front passenger seat and placed it on his head. The car now had slowed to a crawl as it passed the wrought iron gates that stood guard at the entrance, just on the left past the gate pillars a policeman stood and held up his hand to stop the car. “Can I enquire as to the reason for your visit here sir?” The question was directed to the driver. “Inspector Musgrove has business at the Lodge” the driver replied. Then with a salute “Please continue, sorry to have detained you.” And with that the car accelerated up the drive. The same reception greeted them at the front door, once inside Musgrove spoke quietly to Richard, “Tell the driver he’s off duty till eleven thirty then make sure he’s available if required.” From a doorway a short distance away there appeared a small dark suited man with thinning black hair and horn rimmed glasses. “Good day gentlemen, I take it you are the policemen who are to take charge of this tragic event.” It seemed to Musgrove that the man was a faint shadow of the Dickens character Uriah Heep, but perhaps he was being a little harsh as they had only just met. “Please to follow me to a more salubrious setting.” “God,” Musgrove thought, “He even talks like Heep.” “This way, This way.” They entered a large room that was at some point in the past a study, but all the books and fittings had been removed and to the right of an ornate fireplace was a desk obviously government supplied and two filing cabinet also from the same source. The only other furniture was an assortment of chairs, about a dozen in total all of different styles, sizes and age. It was obvious that this was a purely functional room and no more. By now Richard had returned and joined his boss. “Oh I’m Sorry gentlemen please take a seat, would you care to take mine sir behind the desk,” making way for Musgrove. “Not at all you sit down; my colleague will grab a couple of chairs from over there.” At this Richard did as he was bidden and acquired two chairs. After all the formalities of the introductions had been made Musgrove spoke. “Now Mr. Wright, what we require is this. I need a room to conduct any interviews that may be required. I will inspect the scene of the crime and I will ask you to accompany us to all interviews of those who have no English. For neither of us are German speakers.” “As to a room, please take this key, it is for the library three doors down to your right, it may be a little dusty but it will serve your needs. The inspection of the bathroom, you will need to speak with the police officers as that room had a pad lock put on it and they have the key. As for me being your interpreter, I am only too willing to act in that capacity. Of course anything to assist the police!” Richard looked at Musgrove and Musgrove looked at Richard, there was an unspoken message in those looks that both understood. “Before we go any further inspector can I just mention one thing? I know not how it may impinge upon your enquiries, if at all, I mean it’s such an inconsequential thing that it may have nothing at all to do with this terrible matter in hand. But one never knows where things may lead, for aren’t all things related in some way even though it may be tenuous to say the least.” Musgrove thought to himself, “How can he produce so many words and say nothing at all, for gods sake get on with it man.” Nevertheless, I feel duty bound to tell you, even though it may be insignificant in your eyes”. “Well,” Musgrove butted in. “Yes precisely,” continued Mr. Wright as though he were telling tales out of school. “Things have been going missing; small things, like a single ear ring, a cheap comb, an old tiny pen knife even to the extent of two boiled sweets. People have on occasion asked me if they have turned up, not that they want to report them stolen or anything. In general they all seem to think that they have mislaid them.” Wright took a deep breath as if he had just been to confession and unburdened his soul. “You see, I told you it was nothing but I thought I had just better mention it.” The inspector took a second to assimilate the information, “Well thank you for that, I appreciate your candor Mr. Wright. We’ll need to talk to you again in the near future.” Musgrove stood up. “So until then!” Richard took the key from Mr Wright and the policemen took their leave.
Now in the old library Richard flung open the old disintegrating curtains that covered the eyes of this old room. He had been a little too vigorous in his actions as this brought a cloud of dust that had lain within the cloth for many years now. He was much more gentle in the opening of the second window. The sun streamed in and bathed the room in a light that it had not seen for many a year now. “Richard get our friend Uriah Heep to get someone in here and dust the place before we catch Bubonic plague.” Richard gave Musgrove a disarming smile; it was a smile that was warm and very genuine. Musgrove thought to himself that he had not seen this smile before; it was one of a man who was now comfortable with his new boss and not one who is in trepidation of his superior.
The door was a door like any other in that place, except for the shiny new lock and hasp that was placed near to the door knob. The key was inserted and with a single turn the lock was open. It was a large room, only what one may expect for a residence of this size. Although clean all of the fixtures and fittings were showing their age, the large brass taps on both the bath and the sink were tarnished with the occasional speck of green mould finding a home by them. In the far right corner and hidden by the door of an airing cupboard could be seen the reason for the lack of water to this room. Two copper pipes came down from the ceiling to within three feet of the floor where they had been cut off; the ends of the pipes had been turned over and hammered flat in a rough and ready way to seal them up. From the colour of this work it must have been done several years ago. Obviously there had been a major leak and the remedy was just to turn off the water to that particular facility, no doubt a place of this size had other more serviceable bathrooms. The two officers stood in the centre of the room and just looked around neither of them had touched or moved anything save the airing cupboard door, and that was with the tip of a pencil. “What do you know about fingerprints Richard?” After a couple of seconds thought it seemed as though he had fallen back on his lecturing skills. “Well the first known fingerprints used as a means of authentication was in ninth century China, they were also used by the fourteenth century Persian government. I can give you further details if you wish, but moving on from there in 1823 a professor in Prague wrote a thesis on nine fingerprint patterns. Then In 1880 Dr Henry Faulds published a paper on the.” With a smile Musgrove stopped him. “Perhaps a little more up to date!” “Ok then, 1901 the first UK bureau was set up in Scotland Yard and The Henry Classification System was used, it being named after Sir Edward Richard Henry and” he was once again stopped by his boss, “Ok, you know your stuff so tell me this. What’s the number you are now going to ring to get a fingerprint team up here to examine this room?” A faint smile crossed the lips of Musgrove as Richard said. “You got me there sir, that one I don’t know!” Taking a small piece of paper out of his breast pocket he slowly handed it to Richard. “You do now; tell them I want them here yesterday, oh and while you’re about it I want the prints taken of every single person who is a resident here, without exception. When the team arrives get everyone together, no absentees, tell them we need them for some kind of announcement, make that in Wright's office, that place should be big enough. Once they are all assembled have a constable on the door, no one leaves, and then bring in the fingerprint team. I want no fish escaping this net. If by chance anyone objects to this, since you will be overseeing this, threaten to charge them with obstructing the police in their enquiries. If they still object; arrest them and take them to the local nick and take their prints there.” Richard felt a great sense of worth; he had been given some real authority and this only his second day. Musgrove knew exactly what he was doing; he knew that this would be only a small test but a test nevertheless. Richard would have to liaise with the yard, that in itself may require some diplomacy, organize the fingerprint team once they arrived, then organize the residents so that they were all at the office at the same time, on top of this he may find he would have to arrest someone and remove them from the premises. Though he thought this unlikely.
“Mr Wright,” Musgrove spoke in quiet yet authoritative tones, “Here is a list of the residents, I want you to mark down the ones that have a working knowledge of English and I will let you know the ones I wish to speak to first. I also want you to draw a rough diagram as to whose room is where in relation to the bathroom.” With the same ingenuous smile Wright left Musgrove in order to comply with the request. The manor was old, and at first glance looked very imposing. For someone seeing it for the first time they could be forgiven for being envious of those who owned it. It was one of those buildings that seem to have just grown out of the landscape, a building that seemed as old as the land it stood on. There was no doubt that it had been well built, with stone hewn from the ground many miles away and then placed one upon the next by artisans that knew their trade. But now on close inspection one could see the fabric of the building was sorely in need of repair. The fixtures and fitting were old and worn; in fact the manor was a reflection of the present owners. Musgrove had discovered that the couple who owned it were in their mid seventies and with no issue to pass it on to, would be the last of their line. So the Priest Lodge was like its owners, dying where it stood with no one to care for it. He felt it safe to discount anyone in the East wing having anything to do with this murder, so that just left the staff of four and the refugees to the number of 10. He had received the list and diagram from Steven Wright and was examining it before deciding who to speak to first. His eyes ran down the list. As Musgrove's eyes ran down the paper he thought to himself. "Irrespective of what one may think about the man, he does seem to be efficient."

Staff
1 Myself - Steven Wright 42 in charge– if you require further information you only need to ask.
2 Cook - Mrs. Elizabeth Boardman 49 hired from agency – born in Somerset Lives in
3 Handyman James Reynolds hired from agency 34 – Odd jobs and assists with meals
4 Maid Sandra Trubshaw Hired by agency – 34 general housekeeping duties and service of meals

Refugees

Room 1 Nicole Braun Female 40 left for England after her husband was beaten to death for trying to defend a Jewish girl
Room 2 E Samuel Rothstein 43 Chemical engineer left for reasons of persecution
Room 3 E Viktor Jung 34 Active anti Nazi – has a warrant out for his arrest
Room 4 Lars Hoffmann 60 Scientist refused to work for the Hitler movement
Room 5 Bruno Gerber 25 Had a Jewish girl friend – both had to leave – she is in a hostel in London and will shortly be moving in with relatives – after which Bruno will join her
Room 6 E Dietrich Faber 41 ran an underground print shop making propaganda against Hitler
Room 7 Gerhard Faust 35 – Anti Nazi
Room 8 Ezra Horovitz 32 - Left Germany after his wife and child were taken to a camp
Room 9 Room E Axel Kaufmann --- Engineer (No specifics) age 26
Room 10 Sister -E Erika Kaufmann Mathematics teacher at junior school Age 21
Rom 11 Otto Bergmann – victim Technical draftsman 24 anti Nazi
(E denotes English speaking)

Ground floor - Living accommodation – reception rooms, games rooms, libraries, study, dining room, toilets, kitchen and staff work rooms
First floor - Twelve bedrooms, four bathrooms (one without water)
Second floor - Five usable bedrooms the rest disused or storerooms
Attic rooms used by staff




At this point his thoughts were disturbed by Richard returning. “I have some news sir, after I made the arrangements for the fingerprint team I had a little chat with the lads in the nick and they told me two bodies had been found next to the railway line a little way from the local station. Means of death is undetermined at the moment but they say the first signs are that it was a lovers tiff and in the argument the door came open and they fell out. Unfortunately they fell down a deep gully, seems they have been there for at least three months.” Musgrove looked at Richard with a slight frown. “And your opinion is what? Do you really want to get involved in that as well as investigating this?" “No sir I just thought, well you know, a matter of interest.” Musgrove leaned back in his chair. “Richard you will come across a lot of disjointed facts in your life on the force. But you need to discipline yourself to keep in front of you the job in hand. Any facts you may come across you store away for future reference; but you mustn’t get sidetracked by them. Enough of that, now get a chair and come and cast your eyes over this, and then we will begin the task of interviewing these people.”
It had been decided that since Richard was now back from his wanderings that they should speak to those who only had German, and the English speakers would be interviewed at a later date. So duly the first was brought in and sat in front of the desk before the two policemen, Mr. Wright sat next to him to act as interpreter. Musgrove spoke in a quiet but firm tone in order that there was no mistake as to who was in charge. “You are Ezra Horovitz is that correct?” Mr. Wright translated the question. “Ja ist der mein Name.” “Yes he says that is his name.” The interview continued in this fashion for some time. “Had he know the victim?" Of course he knew him they were from the same country; they had many things in common, but he was not a friend. “Sir I sind ein Jude, sogar die, die nicht offenkundig gegen uns sind, neverthe weniger Unterhalt wir an der Armlänge.” Ezra Horovitz explained that being a Jew did not endear him to his none Jewish countrymen, even if they were not of the Nazi persuasion. Ezra Horovitz had suffered persecution as a Jew for a number of years now, the rise of the Nazi organization had enabled the population to give vent to their anti Semitic feelings. He had been out the day they came for him, his wife and child however had been taken and now wallowed in some camp far away. He had taken to locking and barring the doors to the house and sleeping with his bedroom door wide open, all the better to hear of any intruder. Even to that day it was still his routine and his sleep was light, should anyone wish to drag him from his bed he would not go quietly. The interview ended with not a great deal accomplished, nevertheless it was thought that since there was still time they would see just one more. Nicole Braun and although she was only too willing to relate the sorry tale as to how her husband was beaten to death by a Nazi gang, she was unable to shed any light on who was likely to be the killer of Otto Bergman. It was obvious that this woman was in deep mourning for her husband and was most definitely a bystander in this tragedy. Not only that but with this murder taking place in such proximity, she felt that death and murder was stalking her. In fact one might say that she was on the edge of a breakdown. Musgrove thanked her in the kindest way he knew how and said that he would not be troubling her again.
The day was now a little overcast as they drove back to the hotel; the police presence was still outside the Priest Lodge and there they would remain until removed at the behest of Musgrove. The sky darkened as they reached the hotel, it seemed to reflect his mood as there seemed to have been not one jot of progress made that day. The two sat at the same table as they had done the previous night and took pleasure in another excellent meal. Musgrove placed his knife and fork side by side on his empty plate and wiped his fingers on the pale blue serviette. “I always hate the first day of any case; you will learn Richard that the first day is all to do with organizing and catching up with the facts. Who’s who? Where they were. At what time etc. Nothing makes sense the first day. We will make real progress after tomorrow mark my words.” The conversation on the case fell by the way side as they began to talk of Richard's past and other none police matters.
The next day the car drove to the Lodge through a light drizzle, it was more like very low cloud than rain, the kind of weather one might associate with Dartmoor than the sunshine of yesterday. Upon arrival at the Lodge they were met by Mr. Wright who did not seem his usual fawning self. “Inspector I feel I need to speak to you on a rather upsetting matter. It seems there was a disturbance last night. The gentleman that you spoke to yesterday, Mr. Horovitz saw a figure creeping around outside his door and made to assault him thinking him up to no good. As you know he sleeps with his door open. Unfortunately the intruder struck first and made his escape. I’m afraid he did not identify this person as the corridor lights had been turned off. Under normal circumstances the lights are dimmed at night but left on, but last night, and here one makes an assumption, the prowler turned them off.” “Have no fear Mr. Wright, it won’t happen again, I will ensure that an officer will be in the corridor during the hours of darkness.” With this Mr. Wright left seemingly satisfied that he had resolved the problem. “So Richard what do you make of that?” “Well sir, I think it was our murderer again. But I think this person is in something of a panic to try something with the police on site and all.” “You're right, it is also the act of someone who still has a mission to accomplish and the target was not Horovitz otherwise he would have finished him off last night. No this is a killer who still has work to do.” The day was full of activity; it had been a long time since this old house had seen this amount of movement within its walls. Interviews of the German speakers were taken, the fingerprint team did their work in the bathroom and by three o clock the residents too had been fingerprinted. Heavy rain now beat against the windscreen of the car as they made their way back to the hotel that evening. The drizzle of the morning had given way to a heavy threatening rain with the occasional rumble of thunder in the distance.
Musgrove’s most overpowering memory of the day was not to do with the case but the view of the lodge as he looked back when passing through the gates. With the lead grey skies and the pouring rain, that view of the Lodge reminded him of a Gainsbourgh melodrama. A film of evil, ghosts, death and murder; it seemed to be the perfect setting. The drive this night seemed slow and tedious, like the conversation, each going over the events of the day. “Sir.” Richard spoke in a halting kind of way unsure how his boss was going to react. "I’ve spoken with the local police today and I’ve been told that the two bodies found next to the railway line have both had fractures to the base of the skull.” “Now that’s interesting.” Came the reply. “Yes, well initial reports state that it cannot be determined whether or not it is due to impacting the ground or it was done prior to them falling from the train.” “Well,” said Musgrove, “In my opinion one fractured scull may be an accident, but two from the same train at the same time that has to be something else, do these two have any form of identification?” “Strange to say no, not a thing, neither of them. No tickets, no combs, no purse or wallet, no lip stick, no money.” “Ok Richard I get the picture, that being the case I think we can safely assume that they too were murdered. Don’t get involved but keep yourself informed on this. The chances are that it has nothing to do with this case but with crime and murder one never knows. Good man.” They both fell silent, lost within their own thoughts until the car pulled up at the hotel and they were forced to brave the elements.