‘And has that been executed?’ asked Fitzjohn.
‘Yes, it has.’
‘Mmm. Interesting. Did he take out a bank loan?’
‘As far as I can tell, he hasn’t taken out any loans since he and his wife bought their apartment five years ago.’
‘Even more interesting. Have Mr Ziegler brought in, Betts. I’d like his explanation as to where he came by so much money.’
‘It’s done, sir. He’s waiting in Interview Room # 1.’
Max Ziegler, dressed in a light grey suit with a blue tie, paced the floor of the interview room while his solicitor arranged his paperwork in front of him on the table.
‘How long do you think this is going to take, Mr Chalmers?’ Ziegler asked the solicitor as he sat down next to him.
‘It’s hard to say. Anywhere from ten or fifteen minutes to a couple of hours. It depends.’
‘Well, I wish they’d hurry up. I need a cigarette.’
Silence prevailed as the minutes ticked by. Ziegler tapped his shoe against the leg of the table and ran his fingers along the inside of his shirt collar while staring blankly at the dull green wall in front of him. He jumped when the door opened and Fitzjohn and Betts walked into the room.
‘Good afternoon, Mr Ziegler,’ said Fitzjohn. ‘Sorry to keep you waiting.’ Fitzjohn sat down followed by Betts who turned on the recording devise. ‘As you can see, this interview will be recorded,’ continued Fitzjohn. ‘All you need to do is introduced yourself and answer our questions as best you can. I should add, however, that you are not obliged to do so.’
‘I can’t understand why you’ve brought me here,’ said Ziegler. ‘I’ve told you everything I know.’
Ignoring Ziegler, Fitzjohn stated the date and time and introduced himself on the machine. He nodded to Ziegler who then stated his name. When everyone had been introduced, Fitzjohn posed his first question.
‘Mr Ziegler, we understand that you recently attended the Family Court where your divorce settlement from your wife Cynthia Ziegler was conducted. One of the details of that settlement was that you pay your wife half the market value for the family apartment.’
Ziegler hesitated. ‘I don’t see what that’s got to do with Preston Alexander’s death. Details of my marital breakdown are none of your business.’
‘As I said earlier, it’s your choice whether you answer our questions,’ replied Fitzjohn. ‘Do you wish to consult with your solicitor?’
‘Yes, I do.’
‘Very well. Interview terminated at fifteen fifty-four.’ Fitzjohn gave a quick smile and he and Betts left the room only to be called back minutes later.
‘My client wishes to continue with the interview, Chief Inspector,’ said Mr Chalmers.
Recommencing the interview, Fitzjohn continued where he had left off. ‘So, we’re led to believe that you paid your wife, Cynthia Ziegler, half the market value for the family apartment,’ said Fitzjohn. ‘A sum of approximately $400,000. Is that correct?’
‘Yes. I didn’t want to sell so I bought her out. She was happy with that.’
‘Can you tell us how you raised the required amount of money?’ asked Fitzjohn. ‘Was it gained through embezzling funds at the Maybrick Literary Agency?’
Ziegler sighed. ‘I’ve told you before, it was Giles who did the embezzling, not me. I got a bank loan for the money.’
‘From which bank?’
‘St George Bank.’
‘Are you sure?’ asked Fitzjohn.
‘Of course I’m sure.’
‘We’ve made enquiries at a number of banks, Mr Ziegler, as well as at a number of building societies and we couldn’t find that you have secured a loan for any amount from any of them. This is a list of those that we made enquiries with.’ Fitzjohn pushed a piece of paper across the table toward Ziegler. ‘Perhaps the institution that you approached isn’t among them.’ Ziegler pushed the paper back. ‘Not there, Mr Ziegler?’ asked Fitzjohn.
‘No.’ Ziegler hesitated. ‘I couldn’t find a bank that would lend me that amount of money. Not on my salary, so I got the money through a friend.’
‘I see.’ Fitzjohn paused for a moment. ‘When you say through a friend, do you mean that he introduced you to someone who would loan you the money?’
‘Yes.’
‘Can you give us the name of that friend? Just so that he can confirm what you’re telling us is the truth.’
Ziegler did not reply.
‘Very well. We’ll leave that matter for the moment. Let’s talk about the night that Preston Alexander died because a person matching your description was seen that night getting out of a car on Milson Road. Was that you, Mr Ziegler?’
‘Of course not. I’ve already told you that I was at a dinner in Neutral Bay.’
‘It’s the next suburb. It would have only taken you a minute or two to drive to Cremorne. We know that you telephoned Preston earlier that evening. Was it the case that you weren’t able to convince him that you were innocent of embezzlement so you thought you’d have better luck face to face? Is that what happened, Mr Ziegler? You and he went for an evening stroll, but Preston still wouldn’t believe you and things got out of hand.’
‘That’s ridiculous. I didn’t kill him, I tell you.’
‘What do you want to do, sir?’ asked Betts as he and Fitzjohn stepped out of the interview room.
‘We’ll retain Mr Ziegler for the time being. It’ll give him time to think about the position he’s in. Hopefully he’ll eventually tell us whether he manipulated the agency’s funds or who he borrowed the money from.’
‘Unless he took the money out of the agency, I can’t see why he won’t tell us where he got the money, unless he used a loan shark with dubious connections.’
‘That thought had crossed my mind,’ replied Fitzjohn. ‘Either way, his silence won’t help his case. Hiding something never does.’
CHAPTER 19
Fitzjohn paced the floor of his office, dissatisfied with the progress of his investigation and with a growing frustration at his inability to get Ziegler to open up.
‘Sir?’ Fitzjohn swung around to find Betts standing in the doorway. ‘I have news on Portland Moore. I’ve spoken to the staff at the casino who were on duty the night Preston Alexander died. They all state that Portland wasn’t at the casino at any time during that day or that evening.’
‘He wasn’t?’
‘No, sir. In fact, he hadn’t played black-jack for almost two weeks.’
‘I see.’ Fitzjohn’s brow furrowed. ‘Well, in that case, we’ll speak to him again, Betts, but this time, we’ll do it here at the station. Have him brought in, would you, please?’
At that moment, the Duty Sergeant appeared. ‘There’s a Dr Charles Stratton here to see you, sir.’
‘Dr Stratton?’ Fitzjohn looked at Betts, his eyebrows lifting.
‘He says it’s urgent that he speaks to you.’
‘Very well. Show him in, Sergeant,’ replied Fitzjohn, returning to his desk. As he did so, a tall, slim, fair haired young man walked into the room. The same man pictured in one of the photographs in Beatrice Maybrick’s apartment.
‘Chief Inspector Fitzjohn? I’m Charles Stratton,’ he said, his hand extended. ‘Thank you for seeing me at such short notice.’
‘Thank you for coming in, Doctor. As a matter of fact, we’ve been trying to contact you.’
‘I had no idea,’ replied Stratton, sitting down. ‘I’m here because I’ve come to understand that you’re investigating the death of a man by the name of Preston Alexander.’
‘That’s right, we are,’ replied Fitzjohn, pulling out his chair and sitting down. ‘Did you know him?’
‘No. Unfortunately, we never met.’
‘But you think you have information that might help in our investigation into his death, do you?’
‘Not Preston’s, but perhaps Beatrice Maybrick’s.’ Fitzjohn sat straighter in his chair, his interest piqued. ‘You see, this morning, I received a lette
r from Beatrice. Regrettably, there was a mix up with my post office box and it’s taken almost two weeks to find me. Because of what she wrote in her letter and who she spoke of, I was able to find out about your investigation.’
‘I take it she mentioned Preston Alexander,’ said Fitzjohn.
‘Yes, she did. His death was reported on the news in Melbourne last week but not knowing of him at the time, I didn’t take much notice. If I’d known then what I know now... Anyway, that’s why I thought I should come to see you, Chief Inspector.’
‘What exactly did Beatrice’s letter say?’ asked Fitzjohn.
‘I have it here.’ Stratton took a letter from his inside breast pocket, unfolded it and handed it to Fitzjohn. ‘As you can see, it’s quite long. That’s because it tells the story of her early life.’ Fitzjohn ran his eyes over the pages of the letter. ‘It starts off, however, in the present day and the situation she found herself in just prior to her death. She explains that because her business didn’t appear to be recovering from its debt, despite a considerable amount of money being injected into it, she’d decided to spend the weekend going through the accounts. It was then she found discrepancies. Money systematically siphoned off over a considerable period of time.’
‘What did she do about it?’
‘She confronted the person responsible for the accounts. She goes on to say that in hind-sight, it was a mistake but at the time she’d been blinded by the enormity of the problem the embezzlement had thrown her business into. She said she wished she’d questioned the man concerned in the presence of her financial backer, but it was too late. She goes on to say that the man in question had turned on her with such venom that she panicked.’
‘Did she say she feared for her life?’
‘Not at that point. Firstly, she says that she wants to explain a few things to me regarding my father.’ Charles paused. ‘It’s a long and complicated story, Chief Inspector, but as it concerns Preston Alexander, I think you should hear it.’
‘How did you come to know Beatrice, Doctor?’ asked Fitzjohn.
‘She was my grandmother.’ Stratton smiled. ‘Having said that, I only learnt of her existence quite recently after she’d contacted an organisation called Jigsaw. They help those who have been separated by adoption.’
‘So Beatrice had been searching for...’
‘Her son who was my father. Also named Charles Stratton. You see, as a young teenage girl, Beatrice had become pregnant by a fellow student she attended high school with. She explains in the letter that at that time, the 1950s, such an occurrence was something to be hidden so her parents, in their wisdom, sent her to Melbourne to live with an aunt until the child was born and subsequently adopted. Afterwards, she was enrolled in a Melbourne girls school as a boarder where she remained until she’d completed her high school education.’
‘And the young man? The father of the child?’
‘He never knew about the child and when they finally did meet, years later, she said she didn’t have the courage to tell him.’
‘Was this young man, by any chance, Preston Alexander?’ asked Fitzjohn. Charles nodded. Fitzjohn sat back in his chair. ‘So, that’s their connection.’
‘Yes. Preston was my grandfather.’
Fitzjohn took a moment. ‘It’s a sad story.’
‘It is. I understand Preston never married. One can only wonder whether it was because of Beatrice. She enclosed this ring with her letter.’ Charles retrieved a small blue velvet case from his pocket and opened it. Inside sat a gold ring with a small ruby encircled by diamonds. ‘It has an inscription on the inside of the band. It reads “Beatrice & Preston 1957”.’
‘And the child? Your father?’ asked Fitzjohn.
‘He was adopted at birth by Mary and William Stratton. They had one other child, also adopted, a nine year old girl by the name of Susan. My aunt.’ Fitzjohn thought of the woman he had seen in the photograph with Charles Stratton. ‘Aunt Susan and Dad both grew up with the Stratton’s on the Mornington Peninsula,’ continued Charles. ‘My grandfather, William, had a veterinary practice in Hastings which Dad join him in after he’d qualified and as I did about six years ago.’
‘So, Beatrice found you both,’ said Fitzjohn.
‘I’m afraid not, Chief Inspector. You see my father and my mother died in a road accident fifteen years ago. It was an added blow for Beatrice. With my father and me sharing the same Christian name of Charles, she thought she’d found him at last. I can only think that that might have been the reason she never told Preston about the baby.’
‘It also explains why your grandfather invested in her literary agency. He was the financial backer that she speaks of in her letter. His financial involvement has puzzled us till now because it was unlike any other investments in his portfolio.’
‘Obviously, he still cared for her and wanted to help, even after all those years,’ said Charles.
‘Undoubtedly,’ replied Fitzjohn. ‘So why did you think that we should know all this, Dr Stratton?’
‘Because Beatrice goes on to say that when she confronted Mr Ziegler about the discrepancies in the books, he told her that he knew about the child she’d had and if she accused him of embezzlement, he’d tell Preston.’
‘But how did he know about the child?’
‘Apparently, his family had lived in the same area in Sydney as Beatrice at that time and he said one of her relative’s had gone to school with his mother. Gossip, in other words.’
‘And he decided to use the information when it suited him.’
‘Is this letter reason enough to look into Beatrice’s death, Chief Inspector?’
‘You’re not the only person to raise the issue, Dr Stratton. A friend of your grandmother’s, the woman she asked to post this letter to you if something should happen to her, contacted us. We’ve since been looking into the matter.’
‘And do you think there was foul play in connection with her death?’
‘It’s too early to say at this stage.’
‘Do you think Beatrice and Preston’s deaths are connected?’
‘So far, there’s no evidence to suggest that but we won’t dismiss it.’ Fitzjohn paused.
‘Tell me, Doctor. Have you received a letter from the executor of your grandmother’s estate? The reason I ask is because it might have some bearing on whether her death was, in fact, not an accident.’
‘Their letter went astray as well. I received it at the same time as Beatrice’s. I’ve contacted the executors and have an appointment with them for later this afternoon. I take it you know the contents of her will.’
Fitzjohn nodded. ‘We didn’t mean to pry, but we did need to know who would gain by her death,’ replied Fitzjohn.
‘Of course. I’ll leave you my card so that you can contact me if you find you have further questions.’ Charles took a card from his pocket and handed it to Fitzjohn. ‘I’ll be in Sydney for the next couple of days, so I can drop by again if you wish.’
‘Thank you,’ replied Fitzjohn, taking the card.
Charles Stratton got up to leave. ‘Oh. There is one thing you might be able to help me with, Chief Inspector. I’d like to thank the woman you mentioned who posted Beatrice’s letter to me.’
‘Her name is Esme Timmons,’ replied Fitzjohn with a smile. ‘I’ll ask her to give you a call.’
CHAPTER 20
Fitzjohn sat in his office re-reading Beatrice Maybrick’s letter to Charles Stratton while Betts wrote up his note-book. ‘Well, it seems that not only the mystery surrounding Beatrice’s lost ring is solved, but we now know Preston and Beatrice’s true connection and why he went to such lengths to help her,’ said Fitzjohn. ‘It also explains why she was so upset that day. She states here, clearly, that Max Ziegler threatened her with something that she had kept concealed for many years. It must have been difficult for her to realise that what she thought she’d successfully hidden had, in-fact, been an item of gossip in some circles. No wonder she panicked.’
Fitzjohn let the letter fall onto the desk and sat back in his chair. ‘We’ve got to get Ziegler to talk, Betts. Not only about the misappropriation of funds at the agency and Preston Alexander’s death, but also about Beatrice Maybrick.’
‘Do you think he killed her?’ asked Betts closing his note-book.
‘I don’t know. This letter doesn’t prove that he did, but it does make it more probable that her death wasn’t an accident. Let’s go over it again.’
‘Okay,’ said Betts with a sigh as he opened his note-book again. ‘We know that Beatrice approached Ziegler first thing on the Monday morning and, according to Olive Glossop, they had a raging row. We also now know that Beatrice wrote in her letter to Charles that Ziegler had threatened to tell Preston about the child if she continued with her accusation of embezzlement. Apparently, she ignored his warning because by mid-day, Preston arrived at the agency and he also confronted Ziegler. After that, Ziegler left the office.’ Betts closed his notebook and sat back in his chair. ‘What was to stop him returning that night and pushing Beatrice down the stairs?’
‘Nothing. Being an employee, he no doubt has a key to the building and we know that Beatrice’s apartment was never locked. He’d just have to make sure that no one saw him going in,’ replied Fitzjohn. ‘Now, what about Preston Alexander?’
At that point, a knock sounded on the door and Carruthers appeared. ‘Portland Moore is waiting in Interview Room #3, sir.’
‘Ah! Very timely. We can interview him and Ziegler one after the other.’ Fitzjohn looked over to the young officer who hovered in the doorway. ‘Thank you, Carruthers.’
‘Who do we speak to first?’ asked Betts.
‘Ziegler. We can’t hold him without charge for much longer.’
Fitzjohn and Betts made their way into the interview room where Max Ziegler waited with his solicitor. They found him pacing the width of the room emanating an air of asperity.
Deadly Investment (A Fitzjohn Mystery Book 5) Page 14
