Murder at the Rocks (16 page)

‘Because I arrived at Brayshaw’s to find Piers LaSalle and Laurence Harford, arguing.’

‘Do you know what they were arguing about?’

‘No.’

‘What time was this?’ asked Fitzjohn.

‘Around seven o’clock, I think.’

‘So, not long before Laurence Harford was murdered.’

Parish looked aghast at Fitzjohn.  ‘Yes, but I can assure you, Inspector, that I had nothing to do with his death.’

‘And what about Piers LaSalle?’  Parish tried to avoid Fitzjohn’s gaze.

‘Perhaps you’d better tell me everything that happened that night, Mr Parish.’

Parish’s brow furrowed.  ‘Well, as I said, they were arguing when I arrived.  I could see the cabinet in Laurence’s office was smashed.  I didn’t know what to think.  And as soon as I appeared Laurence left immediately by the back stairs.’

‘So was that the last time you and Mr LaSalle saw him alive?’

‘I believe so.  That is...  It’s the last time I saw him.’  Parish paused.  ‘As we were about to leave the building, I remembered I hadn’t heard the back door shut after Laurence left.  It’s difficult to close.  You have to slam it shut.  Anyway, Mr LaSalle offered to go down and see to it.’

‘I see.  How long was he gone?’

‘A few minutes.  He said he’d had a bit of trouble with the door.  I didn’t think anymore about it until Thursday morning when I found Laurence in the laneway.’  Howard Parish swallowed hard.   ‘That’s when I wondered...’

‘What did you wonder, Mr Parish?’

‘Whether Mr LaSalle had killed Laurence.’  A moment of silence ensued as Howard Parish fidgeted with his watch band.

‘Mr Parish, were you aware that Mr Harford fell when he went down the back stairs that night?’

‘No, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he did.  It was obvious he’d been drinking.’

‘Why did you go to Quay West that night with Piers LaSalle?’

‘I’d offered to give Mr LaSalle a lift to his hotel which he accepted.  When we got there, he invited me in for coffee.  He wanted to explain why he and Laurence had been arguing.’

‘And did he?’

‘No, someone arrived to see him not long after we sat down.  I didn’t wait.’

‘Did you see who this visitor was?’

‘Yes, as a matter of fact, I did.  It was a woman by the name of Ellen Ashworth.  She had been Edward Harford’s nurse toward the end of his life.  We met on a couple of occasions when I dropped off documents for Mr Harford to sign.’

‘Were you surprised to see her that evening at Quay West Suites?’  Parish looked thoughtful.

‘Initially, I think I was, but then I realised that both she and Mr LaSalle had been employed by Mr Harford around the same time so I thought perhaps they’d formed a liaison of some sort.’

‘What kind of liaison?’

‘To tell you the truth, I hadn’t thought.’  Parish shrugged slightly.  ‘Friendship perhaps?’

‘Has Piers LaSalle been in touch since, Mr Parish?’

‘No.’

Sensing Howard Parish’s growing anxiety, Fitzjohn waited for a moment and then asked his next question.  ‘Tell me, Mr Parish.  Why did you returned to Brayshaw’s on Wednesday evening?’

‘Because I...’  Parish moved in his chair.  ‘Because Laurence expected me back.’

‘At that time of the evening?  Why?’

‘He had a number of issues he wanted to discuss.  It’s difficult during a busy day.’

‘I see.  What were those issues exactly?’

Parish looked taken aback.  ‘Oh, well...  He wanted to go through a number of transactions we’d made in the previous week.’

‘What sort of transactions?’

‘This is difficult, Inspector.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I can’t see I will be believed.’  Howard Parish brushed a piece of lint from his trouser leg before looking back again at Fitzjohn.  ‘Very well.  Laurence Harford had been taking money from the business for some time and having me cover up the losses.  He said if I didn’t cooperate, he’d report me to the police for embezzlement.’

‘That’s rather a serious accusation, Mr Parish.’

‘Even so, it’s true.’

‘Why did you agree to go along with it?’

‘Because he wasn’t a man to make idle threats, Inspector.  I believed he’d see me in gaol if I didn’t do what he wanted.’  Parish paused.  ‘Of course now it leaves me in a bit of a bind.  The books, you see... there are anomalies to the trained eye.’

‘I see.’  Fitzjohn paused before continuing.  ‘I think under the circumstances, Mr Parish, you should come down to the station and make a formal statement.’

‘You mean right now?’ asked Parish, his voice trembling.

‘That would be best don’t you think?  It will also give us a chance to talk further about what happened last Wednesday evening at Brayshaw’s.’

Fitzjohn banged the phone down, his face red with frustration.  At the same time, Betts came through the door.

‘A problem, sir?’

‘It’s this damned computer,’ answered Fitzjohn, turning off the screen.  ‘I’m convinced they create more problems than they solve.’

‘Did you ring IT?’

‘I need instant help, Betts.  Not sometime in the next hour.’  Fitzjohn put the keyboard aside.  ‘How did you get on in Mittagong?’

‘I didn’t find LaSalle, if that’s what you mean.  In fact the house is up for sale.  I spoke to one of the next door neighbours.  Apparently, the place is owned by Piers LaSalle’s mother, who recently moved into a nursing home.  The neighbour says LaSalle visited on occasion, but never resided there.’

Fitzjohn’s eyebrows rose.  ‘So, he’s been using the address as a decoy.’

‘Looks that way.’

‘In that case I want someone at Quay West Suites until LaSalle reappears.  Put Saunders onto it, Betts.’

‘How did you get on with Howard Parish, sir?’

‘It’s opened up Pandora’s Box.’  Fitzjohn recounted his interview with Parish.

‘So, LaSalle is involved after all.’

‘Yes, but to what extent remains to be seen.  He either went down those stairs to simply lock the back door as he told Howard Parish or...’

‘His main objective was to kill Laurence Harford.  If so, he may have been carrying out the threat Edward Harford mentioned in his letter,’ said Betts.

‘Quite so.  After all, he was employed by Edward Harford and perhaps not just to find his son.’  Fitzjohn switched his computer screen back on and tapped a few keys on his keyboard.  As the screen lit up, Fitzjohn’s face beamed.

‘If he’s so involved, I can’t see him returning to Quay West, can you?’ said Betts.

‘If he’s guilty, which at the moment one would suspect, I agree, but you never know.  Sometimes the guilty demonstrate the most bizarre behaviour.  We need to find him, Betts, and we need to speak to Ellen Ashworth too.  Find out where she can be contacted.’

‘Yes, sir.  What about Parish?  Do you believe his story?’

‘I’ll let you have my answer to that question when we’ve found out a bit more detail about his financial state.’  Fitzjohn grimaced as his computer screen froze once again.  ‘See to it, Betts.’

‘And Laurence Harford?’

‘The same.  Find out if he was in debt and if not, try to find out what he did with the money he skimmed from the business.  While you’re doing that, I’ll have a word with Nick Harford about Parish.’

‘What about Neville Price and the other members of his platoon.  Had any luck yet?’

‘We’ve tracked down half the members, sir, but Price isn’t among them.’

‘Who’ve you got looking after that?’

‘Detective Constable Williams, sir.’

‘Ah, good.  It’ll be a tedious task so we might find out just how interested he is in being a Detective Constable.’

CHAPTER 22

The storm that had been brewing all morning finally erupted as Fitzjohn, driven by Detective Constable Carruthers, arrived in Mosman to speak to Nicholas Harford.  ‘Wait in the car, Carruthers, there’s no point in us both getting soaked.’

‘Yes, sir.’

Fitzjohn grabbed his umbrella, and with a nimbleness that surprised him, opened the car door and headed for the house.  He reached the front porch dampened, his glasses spotted with rain.  After one ring of the bell, the front door opened and Nicholas Harford appeared a surprised look on his face.

‘Chief Inspector.’

‘Good afternoon, Dr Harford.  I wonder if I might have a further word with you.’

‘By all means.  Come in.’

Fitzjohn closed his umbrella and leant it up against the porch.  Stepping inside, he followed Nicholas into the study, its stillness broken by the rain as it hit the French window.  Nicholas gestured toward a chair.  ‘Has there been a development, Inspector?’

‘Of sorts.  How well do you know Howard Parish?’

Nicholas Harford sat down behind his desk. ‘Not very well, to be quite honest.  He came to work for my father just over a year ago.  Not long before I left for South America.  I met him at the time, but didn’t see him again until last Wednesday.’  Nicholas hesitated before continuing.  ‘Why do you ask?’

‘Because he claims your uncle took money from Brayshaw’s and had him cover up the losses under threat of being accused of embezzlement.  I take it you haven’t been through Brayshaw’s books yet.’

‘No.  As you’re probably aware, we’ve closed down until Monday.  I’d planned to go through everything with Howard next week.  What prompted him to tell you this?  Surely it puts him in a precarious position.’

‘You’re right, it does, but he didn’t have any choice in the matter.  It came out in the course of my questioning him.  What I want to know, Dr Harford, is whether Howard Parish’s claim surprises you?’

‘Not that Laurence was embezzling from Brayshaw’s.  I believe Laurence wouldn’t give a second thought to using Brayshaw’s to help fund his lifestyle.  I think you’ll agree that my father’s letter indicates as much.  What does surprise me is Howard Parish’s involvement.’  Nicholas hesitated before continuing.  ‘But having said that, I believe Laurence would be capable of carrying out his threat if Howard didn’t cooperate.  My father and I had our differences, but I know he was an astute man.  He wouldn’t have employed Howard Parish unless he believed him to be of the utmost integrity.’

‘Well, I hope you’re right, but under the circumstances, we’ll need to have the auditors come in.’

‘Of course.’  Nicholas paused.  ‘Tell me, Inspector, what does this have to do with Laurence’s death?’

‘That I can’t say at the moment,’ said Fitzjohn.

‘Then can you tell me if there is any word yet on how he died?’

‘Ah, yes, there is.  Your uncle died from the stab wounds that were inflicted.’  Fitzjohn smiled to himself, aware of the relief showing on Nicholas Harford’s face.

‘There’s one more thing, Doctor.  Sister Ashworth, who called to see you the other day as Sergeant Betts and I were leaving.  Is she a family friend?’

‘No.  She was my father’s nurse.  She came by to fill me in on his last few months.’

‘Oh, I see.’

‘She mentioned you’d met.’

‘Yes we have.  She was very kind to my wife during her illness last year.  Do you know if she knows Piers LaSalle, by any chance?’

‘I have no idea, although I suppose it’s conceivable since she was working for Dad when Piers would have been hired.’

Moments later Fitzjohn stepped back out into the rain filled afternoon and picked his way through the puddles on the path to the waiting car.

‘Where to now, sir?’ asked Carruthers.

‘The station.’

With his shoes saturated and his feet cold, Fitzjohn sat back into his seat as the car pulled away, running his conversation with Nicholas Harford through his mind.  Dr Harford’s reason for Ellen Ashworth’s visit on Thursday seemed plausible enough, but even so, she had spent months in Edward Harford’s employ.  In that time, surely she had gleaned some insight into the family and the estrangement between the two brothers.

Twenty minutes later, back in his office, Fitzjohn slipped out of his shoes, pulled off his sodden suit coat and hung it over the back of his chair before dabbing the top of his balding head with his handkerchief.  As he did so, Betts appeared in the doorway looking dejected.

‘Ah, Betts, how did you get on?’

Betts slumped down into a chair.  ‘Still no luck finding LaSalle.  I think he’s done a runner, sir.’

‘That may be so, but keep trying.  What about Ellen Ashworth?’

Betts took his notebook from his inside coat pocket and, flipping through the pages said, ‘She works for Nightingale Nursing.  They’re an agency and have an office in the Dymocks Building on George Street.  I was able to get her home address, but when I called around, she wasn’t there.

‘I have managed to find out something about Howard Parish and Laurence Harford’s financial states though.  Parish’s only assets are his house in Glebe which is worth a tidy sum, and money he received, last year, from his late wife’s superannuation fund as her beneficiary.  And he doesn’t appear to have any outstanding debts.’

‘Laurence Harford, on the other hand, has a sizeable bank account with a steady flow of funds into the account.  And I don’t think it’s just the money his brother deposited each month or the money Howard Parish claims he siphoned off from Brayshaw’s because the majority of the deposits are in excess of $20,000.

Fitzjohn’s eyebrows rose as he sat forward.  ‘I’m beginning to wonder what we’re dealing with here, Betts.  The picture I’d built up in my mind of Laurence Harford was one of a manipulative man who used his position in society for his own ends, but I didn’t realise to what possible extent.  Find out where all the funds originate.’

‘Yes, sir.’

In his stocking feet, Fitzjohn got up and walked over to the window to close the blind.  He turned back to see Betts eyeing his feet with an amused look.  ‘My shoes got soaked this afternoon in the line of duty.  Why didn’t you get wet?’

‘Because I stayed in the car until the storm passed, sir.’

Fitzjohn shook his head as he settled himself back into his chair.  ‘So Betts, we have a nephew with a fortune to gain by killing his uncle, an employee whose wife had an affair with the deceased and Howard Parish who admits to being inside the Brayshaw premises at the time of the murder.  Not to mention his further admission that there are anomalies in the company’s books.’  Fitzjohn shook his head and threw his pen down on the desk.