Read The Carlswick Affair Page 16


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  Stephanie arrived home to find her father’s meeting was underway in the conference facility in the old guesthouse.

  She flopped on the sofa in her bedroom and picked up Sophie’s diary from 1940.

  Dinner at the Knoxes’ again. It’s getting more and more uncomfortable. Only Edward’s mother speaks to me – even the staff are rude! I know it’s difficult for Edward – they are his family after all, but really! I am not my father. Their behaviour is the height of bad manners!

  Several foreign visitors tonight. One gentleman spent the evening speaking in whispered tones to Charles at one end of the table. It was very strange and they excused themselves to his study after the main course. When Edward went to get them for dessert, they were gone. It was as if they had vanished. Charles returned and said Herr von Gutenberg was tired and had gone up to bed. Strangely, Charles had dirt on his hands and cuffs and his usually tidy hair was dishevelled. It was all very mysterious.

  Stephanie paused thoughtfully. The next entry looked like it was written hastily.

  Edward was in the drawing room when I arrived at Knox Manor last night, admiring a new painting that Charles had acquired. Quite where from with the war, I don’t know.

  Edward showed me into Charles’ study. It was jammed with all sorts of treasures. I had never seen anything like it – books, unframed paintings, various ornaments stacked on the bookshelves and mantel, and jewellery just lying on his desk. But it was the paintings that caught my attention. There was a Matisse, a Degas, a Chagall and a Monet among others. Unfortunately, he came in while we were admiring his art collection. He went mad! I don’t believe I have ever seen anyone as angry.

  He went so red in the face that I thought he might explode! We were ordered from the room. Edward told me today that I was not to mention our discovery to anyone. Apparently Charles is helping out some European friends by storing their valuables so that the Nazis can’t get their hands on them.

  Stephanie grabbed a notebook from her desk and turned to a fresh sheet. She began listing the names of the foreign visitors mentioned in Sophie’s diary and the dates of their visits with the Knoxes. Very quickly, she had a list of twenty-five individuals. Opening her iPad, she started searching each name and artist mentioned by Sophie, on the internet. There were hundreds of combinations and potential website links. Interestingly a number of the searches came up with results relating to looted Nazi art, which distracted her momentarily.

  There has got be a quicker, more accurate way of doing this, she thought, picking up her mobile and speed dialling Michael’s number.

  “Hi, Michael. I was wondering if you were doing anything this afternoon? I need some help doing an internet search,” she said.

  “Sure, Steph, I’ll be there shortly.” He sounded delighted.

  True to his word Michael arrived about ten minutes later.

  “Okay. So what are ya trying to search for?” he asked.

  “Well, I’m trying to cross reference a list of artists with a list of people to see if there are any links between them. And I can’t work out how to do it other than one by one. Even then I get hundreds of search results. I’m not sure how to narrow the search down,” she explained, shrugging her shoulders and waving her hands in frustration at her laptop.

  Michael nodded. “It’s a common problem with search engines. You need a special programme to run a search like that.”

  Stephanie’s face fell.

  “However, I happen to have such a programme. I wrote it for computer science last year, but I haven’t had a real world scenario to test it on,” he said proudly.

  Stephanie smiled. “Great! What do you need?”

  “Just email me your lists and I’ll get going on it,” Michael said.

  “Okay – but don’t let me hold you up on your other work – this is just a side project,” Stephanie said. Michael had a successful part time website building business, the proceeds of which would more than pay his way through university.

  “Hey, it’s no problem – I will have it running on a spare computer,” he said.

  Stephanie returned to Sophie’s journals after Michael left. They were mainly filled with her love for Edward, but there were several entries concerning her dislike of his brother Charles, who frightened her. Stephanie checked the date – April 1940, before reading.

  Father gleefully slammed the newspaper down upon seeing the main headline at breakfast this morning announcing an investigation into the Knox family for collaborating with the enemy! He said that this just confirmed his suspicions that the Knoxes were rotten to the core. ‘They should all be shot as traitors!’ he stated, before forbidding David and me from ever setting foot in their home again.

  Collaborators? That’s treason!

  I pray that Edward isn’t somehow involved.

  Hang on, Stephanie thought, her heart racing. I’m sure an official investigation would be part of the public record. She picked up her iPad and looked up a telephone number and dialled.

  “Hello, Carlswick Museum and Historical Society,” a pleasant older woman answered.

  “Hello, my name’s Stephanie. I’m doing some research on events in the village before and during World War II and I was wondering if you could help me?” she said.

  “I’m sure we can, dear,” the woman sounded helpful. “Were you after anything specific?”

  “Actually, yes – I’m interested in the collaboration claims made against the Knox family and the subsequent investigation,” Stephanie said.

  There was a brief hesitation on the line. “That’s very specific, dear. But I’m sure that we have some information here on that. I would have to look it out for you. Can you come in next week?” the woman said.

  “Yes. Thank you very much. I’ll pop in on Monday.” Stephanie clicked the phone off and kept reading.

  Later that evening, the woman from the museum visited her sister for their weekly gossip.

  “I had an interesting phone call today from a young woman doing some research on World War II and the Knoxes. She wants a copy of the collaboration report,” she said.

  “Really?” her sister Grace answered. “Old Charles won’t like that.”