‘I see. And when exactly did this come about?’
‘Olive said it was on the Monday morning, just after Beatrice had confronted Max about the discrepancies in the accounts.’
‘And when did Beatrice tell you?’
‘She didn’t. Olive did.’
The three officers left Alison’s office minutes later and went in search of Giles Enfield. They found him emerging from the kitchen with a steaming mug of coffee.
‘Are you free now, Mr Enfield?’ asked Fitzjohn.
Giles gave Fitzjohn a disdainful look. ‘Yes, although I can’t see what else I can tell you.’
‘I’m sure there’ll be something, Mr Enfield, because this time, we want to question you about the time you spent in Port Stephens.’ Fitzjohn and the two officers followed Enfield into his office.
‘What do you want to know?’ asked Giles with an indignant air before placing his cup of coffee on the desk pad and sitting down.
‘We want to know exactly what time you arrived in Port Stephens,’ replied Fitzjohn.
‘It was Thursday morning. I can’t remember the time. Early on, anyway.’
‘And when did you leave?’
‘For goodness sake, what is this, the third degree?’ yelled Giles, his fist hitting the desk. ‘What does it matter when I got there or when I left?’ he continued, mopping up the spilt coffee.
Fitzjohn ignored Giles’s outburst and waited for an answer.
‘All right,’ he said at last. ‘I left on Monday morning and you know when I got back because you and your sergeant were here to greet me.’
‘So, you were in Port Stephens for approximately four days?’
‘That’s right.’ Giles took a sip of what was left of his coffee before he gave a nonchalant shake of his head. ‘I can’t see what this has to do with your investigation.’
‘It may not have anything to do with it, Mr Enfield, but I’m just that tiny bit pedantic about detail. I can’t help myself because I’ve often found that the smallest piece of information can make all the difference. For example, in this case, it’s the fact that your immediate neighbours in Port Stephens didn’t see you over the period of time that you claim to have been there.’ Fitzjohn’s eyebrows rose.
‘That’s not surprising. I went fishing early each morning and played golf on a couple of afternoons.’
‘Well, I suppose that it’s possible your neighbours might have missed seeing you, but I don’t see how you played golf because according to the staff at the club, you haven’t booked a tee off time for over eight weeks.’ Giles drew a breath and glared at Fitzjohn. ‘You weren’t at Port Stephens, were you, Mr Enfield?’
‘I’ve already told you where I was on the night that Preston died. I don’t see that it’s any of your business where I was after that.’
‘That’s where you’re wrong,’ said Fitzjohn. ‘It might have skipped your notice, but we’re conducting a murder investigation, so for that reason alone, it is our business,’ replied Fitzjohn. ‘After all, you did have a strong motive to kill Mr Alexander.’
‘I beg your pardon! What possible motive would I have? I barely had anything to do with the man. The longest amount of time we ever spent together was when I drove him to the hospital the night that Beatrice died.’
‘Ah, yes. So you said. How did he feel about that?’
Giles glared at Fitzjohn. ‘What sort of a question is that? He thanked me for coming to tell him, of course.’
‘Is that all that was said between the two of you?’ continued Fitzjohn. ‘After all, he knew about your disqualification as a company director.’ Fitzjohn caught Giles’s surprised expression. ‘Yes. We know all about that. Now, let’s see. What was the reason? Ah, yes. Using company assets for personal benefit. It must have been worrying for Preston to find you working at the agency after he’d invested one million dollars in it. Not to mention the fact that Beatrice had told him she’d found discrepancies in the accounts. Did he confront you about Max Ziegler’s claim that you had taken over the accounts?’
‘Your accusations are ludicrous.’
‘No they’re not,’ replied Fitzjohn. ‘Your misadventure into embezzlement in your previous employment is all here in the Companies Office’s report.’ Fitzjohn held up the report. ‘You can read it if you wish. Among other things, it tells us that you were disqualified as a company director for a period of eleven years? And surprise, surprise. After looking through Preston Alexander’s retirement activities, it seems that he just happened to be a director on the board of the company that you were disqualified from. I’d say that the events on the day that Beatrice died caused Preston a great deal of anguish. Of course, he’d confront you with it.’
‘So, what if he did? None of it alters the fact that I didn’t kill him,’ replied Giles with an arrogant sneer.
‘Whether you did or you didn’t, we want to know where you spent those four days because it wasn’t in Port Stephens.’ His patience waning, Fitzjohn waited for Enfield to reply. ‘Of course, we can always arrange for you to be brought down to the station and questioned in one of our interview rooms.’ Fitzjohn glanced around the richly decorated office with its rosewood panelled walls. ‘Not quite as plush as our present surroundings, but it does produce results.’
Giles narrowed his eyes at Fitzjohn. ‘You’re going to regret this when I put in a complaint about you for police harassment.’
‘You can complain all you want after you’ve told us what we want to know,’ replied Fitzjohn.
‘Okay. If you must know, I spent the four days in Port Macquarie.’
‘Why didn’t you say so in the first place?’
‘Because, it’s a personal matter. Nothing to do with your investigation and none of your damn business.’
‘I believe I’ve said before that it is our business,’ replied Fitzjohn, his patience at its end. ‘Shall we continue this discussion down town?’
‘All right.’ Giles held up his hands. ‘I’ll tell you what you want to know. I went to stay with a friend. A female friend.’
‘Ah! In that case, we’ll need her contact details,’ replied Fitzjohn.
‘Is that altogether necessary?’
‘Yes, it is,’ replied Fitzjohn. ‘And it can only work in your favour if you’re telling us the truth, Mr Enfield.’
‘But I don’t want her dragged into this.’
Fitzjohn did not reply, but waited.
‘All right,’ said Giles at last. ‘Her name’s Rosemary West.’ Enfield hesitated. ‘You have to understand, Chief Inspector. This is a delicate matter. If my wife finds out it could ruin my marriage.’
‘I have a murder to solve, Mr Enfield. I can’t give any assurance that your liaison with this woman will remain private.’
‘Now, before we conclude, I’d like to ask you about the night that Beatrice Maybrick died.’
‘Beatrice? Why, for heaven’s sake?’
‘I’m not here to answer questions, Mr Enfield. You are.’
Giles shrugged. ‘There’s little to tell. With Beatrice’s discovery that there were discrepancies in the accounts, the day had been thrown into turmoil. We all worked back that night.’
‘Everyone?’
‘All but Fiona Worth. And Max, of course. He’d gone home that afternoon. At about seven that evening, Beatrice decided to call it a day and went upstairs to her apartment.’
‘So that left you, Alison and Olive Glossop downstairs. Is that correct?’
‘Yes.’
‘Do you remember anything unusual happening after Beatrice went upstairs to her apartment?’
‘No. The three of us worked on in our respective offices until I raised the alarm that Beatrice had fallen. As you know, my office is the closest to the stairs. Alison followed and then Olive came running from her office at the rear of the building. She went straight upstairs to get a blanket and I rang triple zero.’
‘Was Beatrice conscious at the time?’
‘For a moment or two. She
was trying to speak.’ Giles shook his head. ‘We tried to hear what she said, but we couldn’t make it out so we just reassured her until the ambulance arrived.’ Giles paused in reflection. ‘We did everything we could to make her comfortable, Chief Inspector.’
‘I’m sure you did, Mr Enfield.’ Fitzjohn got to his feet. ‘We’ll be in touch.’
‘So, is that it?’ asked Giles.’
‘For now,’ replied Fitzjohn.
Fitzjohn followed Betts and Carruthers out of Giles’s office to find Olive Glossop in the vestibule arranging fresh flowers in the crystal vase that sat on the marble-topped table.
‘Good afternoon, Ms Glossop. You’re just the person that we want to speak to,’ said Fitzjohn as they approached. Olive spun around. ‘Would you mind answering a few more questions for us, please?’
‘No, not at all,’ she said, eyeing the bulk of the three men. ‘It’ll be a bit of a squeeze in my little office, but I’m sure that we’ll manage somehow. Better still, we can use the boardroom. I’m sure that the auditors have finished there for the day.’ Olive caught Fitzjohn’s look. ‘They arrived early this morning.’
As Olive bustled off, they followed her into a room dominated by a long table surrounded by a dozen chairs. Fitzjohn glanced out of the window at a tall office building that loomed a few feet away on the property’s perimeter.
‘It’s hard to believe that this house once sat on a large parcel of land,’ said Olive, following Fitzjohn’s gaze. ‘It was sold off, of course, over the years and now the house is engulfed in the city. Such a shame that some things have to change so much, isn’t it?’
‘It is, Ms Glossop, but impossible to prevent,’ replied Fitzjohn, looking at the ruby and diamond setting of the ring on Olive’s finger as she sat down in the opposite chair. ‘I believe they call it progress.’
Olive noticed his attention to her ring and said, ‘I had it made especially. I’m partial to rubies.’ After a pause, she continued. ‘What is it you want to ask me, Chief Inspector?’
‘We’d like to know if you’ve had occasion to go up to Beatrice’s apartment recently.’
‘Oh. Well, yes, I have. I think I told you earlier that I went up there on the night that she fell. To get a blanket to cover her with until the ambulance arrived.’
‘So you did,’ replied Fitzjohn. ‘And did you go up at any other time on that day?’
‘Yes, as a matter of fact I did. I went upstairs to have a cup of tea with Beatrice late on Monday afternoon. She wanted to ask if I’d take over Max’s clients until the matter of his suspension was resolved.’
‘And have you been up there since?’
‘No.’
‘When you went up that evening to get the blanket, Ms Glossop, where did you find one?’
‘In the linen closet just off the kitchen. It was a knitted throw over. I just grabbed it and ran back downstairs.’ Olive’s brow furrowed. ‘Why are you asking all this?’
‘Because, Ms Glossop, your fingerprints have been found on some of the surfaces in the apartment.’
‘Well, that’s not surprising, is it?’ replied Olive indignantly.
The three officers made their way back out of the building and along the driveway to their car.
‘Carruthers, I want you to speak to Rosemary West in Port Macquarie to see if she corroborates Giles Enfield’s alibi,’ said Fitzjohn.
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Betts, I want you to make an appointment for us to see the Public Trustee. I’d like to know who Beatrice Maybrick’s beneficiaries are.’
‘Alison Maybrick seems to be her only living relative,’ said Betts.’
‘She does, so I suspect that she’ll be the only beneficiary. Consequently, I think it’ll be prudent of us to find out the extent of Beatrice’s estate. After all, even though her business wasn’t doing well, it doesn’t necessarily mean that she didn’t have other assets. For instance, the building that the agency is housed in. It’s sitting on prime real estate. Must be worth millions.’ Fitzjohn pulled his seat belt on. ‘We need these questions answered. Especially now that we’re looking into the way in which Beatrice died.’
‘What about Olive Glossop, sir? That ring she’s wearing looks to be the one that Esme and Mildred Banks said was missing.’
‘It does, although her explanation as to how she came by it could be true so we need to tread carefully for now. After all, she’s been open about having had tea with Beatrice and the reason why as well as fetching the blanket that evening. However, the issue about her being promoted to agent gives me pause for thought because her story is the same as Giles Enfield’s. Beatrice asked her to take over Max’s agent duties without telling any of the other staff. Still, it was a tumultuous day. No doubt Beatrice was making snap decisions to make sure that the agency kept functioning.’
‘On the other hand,’ said Betts, ‘Olive might have gone up to Beatrice’s apartment that afternoon on the pretext of offering support, asked whether she could take over Max Ziegler’s clients and Beatrice refused. It would give her a motive to return that evening to try again. One thing led to another and Beatrice fell. It might also be how she came by the ring.’
‘It’s something to keep in mind, Betts,’ replied Fitzjohn.
CHAPTER 15
Fitzjohn heard the gate squeak and the footsteps that followed. When he opened the front door, he found Betts standing on the garden path, motionless as if in a trance like state, gazing at Rhonda Butler’s house.
‘Morning, Betts,’ he said softly.
Brought back from his thoughts, Betts turned, his face pale. ‘Good morning, sir. I was just... That is...’ Betts looked back at the house. ‘Seeing that house again has brought back the night of the fire.’
‘Mmm. The same thing happened to me,’ replied Fitzjohn, locking the door and joining Betts on the path. ‘A feeling of anxiety came over me. Same with you?’
‘I guess so. Not a nice feeling, anyway.’ Fitzjohn put his hand on Betts’s shoulder and they carried on to the car.
‘There’s bound to be some effects after experiencing that fire, but if they don’t dissipate, I suggest you speak to the medical officer.’ Fitzjohn climbed into the car and pulled his seat-belt on before giving Betts a reassuring look.
Betts nodded and turned the ignition. ‘I’ve been in contact with the Public Trustee’s Office in regards to Beatrice Maybrick’s will, sir. We have an appointment at nine o’clock this morning.’
‘Excellent,’ replied Fitzjohn.
Betts parked the car across the street from the building that housed the office of the Trustee, and minutes later they emerged from the elevator onto the seventh floor. Fitzjohn opened the door into the reception area and they approached a woman who sat behind the desk. As he did so, a tall, thin, dark haired woman walked out of a nearby office.
‘Is my nine o’clock here yet, Wendy?’ she asked.
‘No. Unless this is them now,’ she said looking at Betts and Fitzjohn as they walked across the room.
‘We have an appointment for nine with Deirdre Richardson,’ said Betts, looking at both women.
‘That’s me,’ replied the tall thin woman, her manner officious. ‘ It’s Chief Inspector Fitzjohn and Sergeant Betts, isn’t it?’ she said, unsmiling. ‘Come this way, won’t you?’ Fitzjohn and Betts followed the woman into her office. ‘Have a seat,’ she said as she settled herself behind her desk. ‘I understand that you’re here to enquire about Beatrice Maybrick’s will.’
‘That’s correct,’ replied Fitzjohn. ‘She passed away recently.’
‘Can I ask why the police are involved, Chief Inspector. It’s just that I was told that her death was accidental.’
‘That might well be the case, Ms Richardson, but as questions have been raised about that fact, we’re looking into it.’
‘You mean she might have been murdered? That is disturbing.’ Deirdre sank back in her chair. ‘How do you think I can help?’
‘We’d like to know
who Beatrice Maybrick’s beneficiaries are.’
‘I see. Well, that’s easy enough.’ Deirdre Richardson opened the file that lay on the desk in front of her and looked at Fitzjohn and Betts over her glasses. ‘There are two beneficiaries. Her step-daughter, Alison Maybrick and a man by the name of Charles Stratton.’ Fitzjohn shot Betts a look. ‘Alison Maybrick is to inherit the bulk of the estate which is her father’s investments that, apparently, Beatrice Maybrick never touched. All blue-chip and worth a small fortune. She is also left the Maybrick family home in Frenchs Forest that, I believe, she has always resided in.’ Deirdre looked up from the will. ‘I’m told that Mrs Maybrick moved out of the home and into an apartment after her husband passed away some twenty odd years ago.’
‘And Charles Stratton?’ asked Fitzjohn.
‘He is left the few investments that Beatrice held herself and kept aside after sinking most of her capital into her business. He is also left the property in North Sydney that the business is housed in.’
‘Does the will state what relation Charles Stratton was to Beatrice Maybrick?’ asked Fitzjohn.
‘No. There isn’t any mention of that.’ Deirdre gave a quick smile and closed the file. ‘I’m afraid that’s all the information I have. Does it help?’
‘Yes, it does. Thank you,’ replied Fitzjohn.
‘Under the circumstances, there is one other thing that I probably should mention. I’ve written to both beneficiaries and asked them to make contact.’ Deirdre paused. ‘Just so you know.’
‘Has either beneficiary replied?’ asked Fitzjohn.
‘So far I’ve only heard from Alison Maybrick’s solicitor stating that she intends to contest the will. Apparently, she wasn’t aware that there was another beneficiary until she read Beatrice’s copy of the will after she’d passed away. Of course, that’ll delay proceedings as will your investigation. Mr Stratton will be informed when he makes contact.’
‘As far as Mr Stratton is concerned, what address do you have for him?’ asked Fitzjohn.
Deadly Investment (A Fitzjohn Mystery Book 5) Page 11
