Murder at the Rocks (13 page)

‘I’m sorry for the late hour.  We did try to contact you earlier, but without success.’

‘I’ve been in Newcastle on business,’ replied Nicholas, ‘taking care of a few personal matters.  Please, come through.’

The two police officers followed Nicholas into the study where Fitzjohn glanced once again at the painting above the mantelpiece before sitting down.  ‘Well, it would be appreciated if you’d keep us abreast of your movements in future, Dr Harford.  At least until our investigation into your uncle’s death is complete.’

Ignoring Fitzjohn’s comment, Nicholas settled himself into the chair behind the desk, a feeling of annoyance surfacing.  ‘What can I do for you, Inspector?’

‘We’d like you to go over your movements again since your return to Australia.  I seem to remember you said you arrived in Sydney on Tuesday.’

‘That’s right.  Around four o’clock in the afternoon.  Andrew Pemlett can confirm that.  He met me at the airport.’

‘And Wednesday?’

‘As I said before.  On Wednesday morning, I attended Mr Pemlett’s office along with my uncle to hear the reading of my father’s will.’

‘At which time, I believe, your uncle threatened to contest the will.’

Nicholas raised his left eyebrow.  ‘Not in so many words, but in hindsight, I believe that’s what he meant.’

‘Where did you go after that, Doctor?’

‘I came here to have a look over the place before I went to Brayshaw’s to speak to Laurence.’  Fitzjohn did not reply but waited for Nicholas to continue.  ‘After that, I returned to my hotel to collect my things and finalise my bill.’  Nicholas drummed his fingers on the desk.  ‘We’ve been over all this before, Inspector.  What exactly do you want to know?’

‘We’d like to know who you met with at your hotel on Wednesday evening.  The evening of Laurence Harford’s death.’  Nicholas frowned as thoughts tumbled through his mind.  ‘Well?’ said Fitzjohn.

‘Oh, you must mean Piers LaSalle.  He was waiting for me when I got there.  I’m sorry, Inspector, with everything that’s happened, it slipped my mind.’

‘Who is Piers LaSalle?’ asked Fitzjohn.

‘He’s a man my father hired to find me in South America.  Unfortunately, he failed.’

‘Why did he come to see you at your hotel?’

‘To deliver a letter my father wrote to me just before his death.’

‘I see.  And where can we find Mr LaSalle?’

‘I have no idea, although I’m sure Andrew Pemlett will have those details.  I understand he made all the arrangements concerning Mr LaSalle.’  Nicholas paused.  ‘Surely you don’t think Piers had anything to do with Laurence’s death.  I doubt they ever met.’

‘We have to follow all avenues, Dr Harford, which leads me to my next question.  I know you’ve been away for some time, but were you privy to your father’s financial affairs?’

An amused look came to Nicholas’s face and he smiled slightly.  ‘No.  Our relationship wasn’t a close one, Inspector.  He would never have considered such a thing.  Why do you ask?’

‘Because a number of bank statements, belonging to your father, were found in Laurence Harford’s office.  Does that surprise you?’

‘It does.  I know Dad wouldn’t have surrendered them willingly.  He detested his brother.  They detested each other, come to that.  The only communication they had was in regards to Brayshaw’s, and I have a feeling that was conducted through Howard Parish after Dad retired.’

‘I see.  Then you will also be surprised to learn that your father paid a large sum of money to his brother each month.’  Fitzjohn paused as Nicholas Harford’s expression changed to one of disbelief.

‘Are you suggesting blackmail, Inspector?’

‘It’s a possibility.  You say that your father and uncle detested each other.  Do you know the reason?’

‘I wish I did.  It’d been going on for years according to my aunt, Julia Harford.  She said it all started not long after my mother’s death.’

‘And when was that?’

‘I was eight at the time so it would have been toward the end of 1980.  When do these payments to Laurence start, Inspector?’

‘According to the statements we recovered, it was November of that year.  Do you think your uncle was capable of inflicting such a situation on his own brother?’

Without hesitation Nicholas said, ‘Yes, I do.’

‘Why do you think that?’

‘Because of what I’ve been told about Laurence’s actions toward my father recently and from my own meetings with him this past week.  It was obvious he’d do anything to get what he wanted.’

‘And what was that?’

‘The estate in its entirety I’d say.  I don’t think he was the type of person one could reason with.  There’s something else, Inspector.  In a letter my father wrote to me, he mentions his brother.  Not in glowing terms, I might add.  I have it here.’  Nicholas felt in his shirt pocket.  ‘In it, he talks about a deterrent should Laurence contest his will and now with Laurence dead...’

Fitzjohn took the letter, removing his glasses as he did so.  His left eyebrow rose as he read its contents.  ‘Do you have any idea what he means by a deterrent?

‘No.  In fact, that’s one of the reasons I went to Newcastle.  I wanted to speak to Hubert Godwin about it.’  Nicholas noted the Inspector’s quizzical look.  ‘Mr Godwin spent the past thirty odd years in my father’s employ, and he helped him write that letter.  I thought if anyone would know, he would.’

‘And did he?’

Nicholas shook his head.  ‘No.’

Fitzjohn looked again at the letter.  ‘Do you have any thoughts on why your father says he’s not at liberty to divulge what the deterrent is?’

‘Other than the fact it might involve me, no.’

‘So, you think you’re implicated.  Why?’

‘Because I have a feeling it’s something to do with Brayshaw’s.  You see, Inspector, Laurence was a lot younger than his brother.  He would have foreseen that one day my father would be gone and I’d be there instead.’

‘A younger man to deal with in other words,’ said Fitzjohn.

‘Something like that.’  Nicholas paused.  ‘I’ll be honest with you, Inspector.  I’ve had little to do with Laurence over the years, but when I have had it’s been obvious that he despised me just as much as he did my father.’

‘And you have no idea why?’

‘No.’

‘Very well, Dr Harford.’  Fitzjohn rose from his chair.  ‘I think that will be all for now.  I’ll keep this for the time being if you don’t mind.’  He held the letter up.  ‘Oh, and as I said before, keep yourself available.  I’m sure we’ll want to speak to you again.’

‘Well, in that case, I should tell you that I’ll be returning to work next week at the University.’

‘Sydney?’

‘Yes.  My office is in the Madsen Building.’  Nicholas took a card from the desk and handed it to Fitzjohn.  ‘You’ll find my phone number there.’

Fitzjohn took the card and put it into his pocket before starting toward the door.  As he did so, he turned.  ‘By the way Dr Harford.  We spoke to the woman you claim came to see you on Wednesday evening.  Claire Howell?  She says the last time she saw you was a year ago.  Before you left for South America.’

‘That’s ridiculous.  She’s come to see me twice since I got back.  Once at my hotel on Wednesday morning, and then again on Wednesday evening, here.’

Fitzjohn’s eyebrows lifted.  ‘Keep yourself available, won’t you, Dr Harford.’

After a moment’s hesitation, Nicholas opened the study door and led the way back out into the entrance hall.  ‘Has there been any word on what caused my uncle’s death, Inspector?’

‘Not yet.’  Fitzjohn buttoned his suit coat.  ‘We’ll let you know as soon as we’ve heard.’

Annoyed by Fitzjohn’s casualness, Nicholas pulled open the front door.  When he did so, he found Ellen Ashworth about to knock.  Instead, she smiled and looked past Nicholas to Fitzjohn, recognition registering on his face before he turned back to Nicholas.

‘We’ll speak again, Doctor.  Good day to you.’  Ellen stood aside as the two men emerged, a slight smile coming to Fitzjohn’s face as he passed her.  ‘Miss Ashworth.’

‘Nice to see you, Mr Fitzjohn.’  She watched as Fitzjohn made his way down the steps before turning back to Nicholas.

‘I see you know the Inspector.’

‘Yes.  I nursed his wife last year at St Vincent’s before she died.  I wasn’t aware he was with the police.  Was he here about your uncle?’

‘You’ve heard then?’

‘It’s in all the newspapers.’  Ellen stepped inside and handed Nicholas her coat before following him into the study.  ‘Is there anything I can do?’

‘Not unless you can provide me with an alibi for the night Laurence died.  It turns out the one I had is a figment of my imagination.’

Ellen gave Nicholas a quizzical look before settling herself in the wing backed chair where she watched him hover at the window.  ‘Did the police have any news about your uncle’s death?’

Nicholas turned from the window, his open neck shirt and rolled up sleeves lending a nonchalance that belied the worry he felt.  ‘I was hoping they’d be able to tell me what caused his death, but apparently not yet.’

‘Well, I suppose those sort of things can take time depending on the circumstances.  Why are you so concerned?’

Because Laurence and I argued on the afternoon before he died.  I ended up hitting him.’

‘Oh, no.  That’s...’

‘Alarming,’ said Nicholas.  ‘I have no idea whether I contributed to his death.’

After a moment, Ellen said, ‘This has been a terrible homecoming for you, hasn’t it?’

‘You’re not wrong.’  Nicholas sat down behind the desk looking across at Ellen, her fair hair tied back, a few wisps escaping and framing her face.

‘What did you mean when you said that your alibi has turned out to be a figment of your imagination?’

‘Oh, that.’  Nicholas shook his head.  ‘I’m sorry.  I was being flippant.  It’s just that the person who called to see me the night Laurence died, has denied doing so.’  Nicholas caught Ellen Ashworth’s look as he picked up a pen and turned it end for end.  ‘She’s a colleague.  We’d had words earlier in the day.’

‘You don’t have to explain.’  An awkward silence ensued before Ellen continued.  ‘You said you wanted to ask me about your Dad.  What exactly do you hope I can tell you about him?’

‘Well, when we last met I just wanted to know how he had been over the past few months, but with all that’s happened since...  Did he ever speak to you about the problems he and Laurence had?  I don’t know if you’re aware, but they despised each other.’

‘Yes, I found that out almost at once.  Not that your father spoke at length to me about his brother.  It was just the odd comment he made from time to time.  It became obvious that something was wrong.’

‘So you’re no wiser than me.’

‘I’m afraid not.  Your Dad said very little.  Other than his health, the only conversations we had were about you.’  Ellen’s eyebrows rose as she smiled.

‘I hate to think what he told you, but beware because it’s probably all true.’

Ellen laughed, her blue eyes sparkling before her more serious mood returned.  ‘This alibi business and the argument you had with your uncle is very worrying, Nick.’

‘It’s not just that.  You see, as far as the police are concerned, I had a strong motive to kill Laurence.’

‘What makes you think that?’

‘Because they’re aware that Laurence planned to contest Dad’s will.’  Nicholas wiped his hand across his chin.  ‘If I’d just kept my fist to myself it’d be one less problem.’

‘Well, I’m sure your uncle gave you reason to lose your temper.  He was an objectionable man.  He had no regard for anyone, least of all your father.  I remember he became distressed and angry the last time Laurence came to see him.  I wasn’t in the room at the time so I don’t know why they argued, but it sounded heated.’

‘That was probably the day he asked, or should I say, demanded that Dad make him his Power of Attorney,’ replied Nicholas.  ‘Andrew Pemlett mentioned it when I arrived on Tuesday.  When Dad refused, Laurence knew he’d have no control over the estate.’

‘Oh, no wonder your father was in such a state after Laurence left that day.  Their meeting sapped all his strength.  A week later he died.’

Ellen Ashworth hesitated.  ‘But why is the reason for their estrangement so important to you now they’re both gone?’

‘Because, other than the fact it might have something to do with Laurence’s death, the police have discovered that Dad paid money into Laurence’s personal bank account on a regular basis.’

‘So are you saying that their estrangement involved blackmail?’

‘It looks that way.’  Nicholas paused.  ‘You’re probably aware that Dad wrote to me before he died.’

‘Yes.  He gave the letter to Piers LaSalle to deliver.’  Ellen paused.  ‘I take it he didn’t explain about the rift.’

‘No.  He said he wasn’t at liberty to divulge the reason.  I suppose because he was being blackmailed over it.’

‘So you believe that if you can find out what it is, it will help prove you didn’t kill Laurence.’

‘Exactly.’

‘Well, if I do think of anything that could help, I’ll get in touch.’  Ellen looked at her watch and got to her feet.  ‘Right now, though, I have to get to work.’

Nicholas followed her out of the study and into the front hall where he helped her on with her coat.  ‘There is something I wanted to ask you.’

‘Oh?’

‘Yes.  Is there any chance you’d have dinner with me sometime?’  Nicholas felt Ellen’s hesitation.  ‘To show my gratitude for taking good care of my father.’

‘Well, that’s very kind, Nick, but it isn’t necessary.  It was my job after all, and besides, it could prove difficult with my different shifts.’

‘That’s okay.  I’ll fit in with you, unless, of course, you’d sooner not.’

‘It’s not that.  In fact, I’d like to.  I haven’t been out socially since my husband died.  He was with the British forces in Afghanistan.  That’s why I came to Australia.  I wanted a new start.’

‘Oh.  I’m sorry.  I had no idea.’

‘You weren’t to know.’  Ellen fastened the buttons of her coat.

‘It would improve my homecoming,’ said Nicholas.

Ellen laughed.  ‘In that case, I’d love to.’

CHAPTER 18