Deadly Investment (A Fitzjohn Mystery Book 5)
Page 16
‘A little exaggeration there, sir, but I do concur that with so many searches happening simultaneously, it has been a drain. Nevertheless, everyone concerned should be back and available for you very shortly. Except, perhaps Williams and his team. It’ll take them a couple of hours to drive back from Port Macquarie.’
With his face reddening with rage, Grieg turned and left the room, slamming the door behind him.
Fitzjohn looked at his watch and continued to pace until in mid-afternoon the door opened again and Betts appeared.
‘Ah, there you are, Betts. How did you get on?’
Betts shook his head. ‘I’m sorry, sir. Nothing at Portland Moore’s home or his dressing room at the theatre.’
‘What about the other searches?’
‘Nothing there either, sir. Giles Enfield’s home and his office are clean. There’s only the house at Port Macquarie left. Williams conducted that search. He hasn’t reported in yet but it shouldn’t be too much longer.’
Fitzjohn’s brow furrowed. ‘Okay. Let me know as soon as you hear anything.’
‘Yes, sir.’
As Betts left the room, Fitzjohn ran his hand through the few wisps of hair on the top of his head before he slumped down heavily into his chair. There he remained for the next hour while doubt about the wisdom of his action concerning the searches crept into his thoughts. If they didn’t produced a result, what then? Would he have to admit failure in solving the crime? As this prospect loomed in his mind, a knock sounded and Williams walked into the room, his expression unreadable. A sinking feeling went through Fitzjohn. ‘Have a seat, Williams,’ he said sitting forward. ‘By the look on your face, I take you had no luck.’
‘Oh, but we did, sir.’
‘You did?’
‘Yes. In the end, anyway. We were about to give up but one of the boys started poking around in an old compost heap at the bottom of the back garden. He found the shoes smouldering away inside.’
Fitzjohn’s hand went across his mouth. ‘Thank goodness for that,’ he said at last. ‘Are the soles in-tact?’
‘They are, sir. Forensics have them now. They’re matching them up with the cast of the shoe print found at the crime scene.’
Fitzjohn sat back and smiled.
When the office door opened, Giles Enfield could be seen standing behind his desk looking out through the gothic window, the sun lighting up the hand-stitched threads of his grey suit through its diamond shaped panes. He turned as Fitzjohn and Betts walked into the room.
‘I can’t think what you’re here for again. You’ve ransacked my home and this office. What more do you want?’
‘We want to arrest you for the murders of Preston Alexander and Beatrice Maybrick as well as for the embezzlement of agency funds,’ replied Fitzjohn.
‘On what grounds?’
‘On the grounds that we found the shoes you were wearing the night you killed Preston Alexander. The sole prints left in the ground around his body match perfectly with those found smouldering in the compost heap at the back of the house you stayed at in Port Macquarie. Also quietly smouldering were the clothes you wore that night. The clothes have provided further evidence of your presence at the crime scene. The dust found on them is from the Cremorne Reserve as well as traces of a certain type of pollen that’s only found in that area. A rare species of native plant, I’m told, that’s been nurtured over the last few years by a gardening club. Oh, and there’s something else. We found the spoils of your embezzlement in the roof cavity of the Port Macquarie house. Are they enough grounds?’ asked Fitzjohn with a smile before he continued.
‘Why did you kill Preston Alexander, Mr Enfield?’ Enfield remained silent. ‘You needn’t bother to answer because I believe I know. It was because he knew that you were responsible for Beatrice’s death, wasn’t it?’ Giles’s face paled. ‘And let me guess. The reason you killed Beatrice is because Preston had told her about your past deeds of embezzlement and disqualification by the Companies Office. You had to get rid of her before she told anyone else.’
Giles swallowed hard and shook his head. ‘You’ve got it all wrong. I didn’t mean to kill her. She slipped backwards down the stairs when she tried to push me away from the apartment doorway.’
‘And what did Preston Alexander do to deserve death?’ asked Fitzjohn.
‘He didn’t believe me. He told me he was going to the police.’
Giles slumped into his chair as Betts read him his rights.
‘What made you think that Enfield was guilty, sir?’ asked Betts later that day.
‘It was that briefcase of his.’
‘Briefcase?’
‘Yes. He was carrying it the day we met him. Carefully wiping the rain from its leather. I recognised the brand straight away. Made in Europe. Hand stitched and ultra-expensive. I have no idea what a literary agent earns, but I know it isn’t enough to fund such an item. Unless, of course, one did a little embezzling on the side. But to prove it - impossible until Williams found that money in the roof cavity. And then you mentioned the European shoes. I thought that they’d go so well with that briefcase.
CHAPTER 23
Fitzjohn placed his papers in his briefcase and closed the lid before slipping on his suit coat. As he did so, the door opened and Betts, dressed in a tuxedo, strode into the room.
‘Ah! You must be hosting this Friday night’s group dinner,’ he said, taking in his young sergeant’s well-groomed appearance. ‘What culinary experience have you got planned for them, Betts?’
‘I’m taking your advice, sir. It’s to be a “barbecue”. Steak, fresh green salad and a good red wine from the Hunter Valley. It might be the last dining experience I have with “the group” but I’ll take my chances. The wine I’m serving, by the way, is from Five Oaks. Charlotte and Rafe sent me a case last week. It’s their first joint grape harvest.’
‘Things must be going well for them.’ Fitzjohn thought back to his investigation into the untimely death of Esme’s nephew, Michael Rossi. ‘I’m glad that it’s all worked out for Charlotte and Rafe.’
Fitzjohn looked Betts up and down. ‘I take it you haven’t asked your dinner guests to come casual.’
‘No, sir. This is going to be a classy barbecue.’ Betts headed for the door.
‘Before you go, Betts, I want to thank you for all your work on the case over these past few weeks. Not to mention your valiant effort during the fire. How’s the leg, by the way.’
‘Healing well, sir.’
‘Give my love to Sophie.’ Fitzjohn paused. ‘Does she know it’s a barbecue?’
‘No,’ replied Betts with a mischievous smile.
As the door closed behind Betts, Fitzjohn walk over to the window and looked down onto the street below, still buzzing with traffic, despite the late hour. Turning he spied Edith’s photograph sitting on the filing cabinet and smiled before picking up his briefcase, opening the office door and switching off the light.
CHAPTER 24
Invited to join Esme and Mildred for lunch at The Green Door Cafe, Fitzjohn stepped inside to see the two ladies waving to him from their table in front of the window.
‘Hello, ladies,’ he said as he approached. ‘Thank you for inviting me.’
‘We’re glad you could make it, Alistair,’ replied Esme. ‘We wanted to thank you properly for solving the mystery of Beatrice’s death. If it weren’t for you, the true nature would never have been uncovered.’
‘It was your suspicions that started it all, Esme.’ Fitzjohn pulled out a chair and hesitated. ‘Is this Beatrice’s chair?’
‘Yes, and we know that if anyone is to sit in it, Beatrice would want it to be you,’ replied Mildred.
‘I’m honoured.’ Fitzjohn settled himself. ‘There’s only one solved mystery left to be told,’ he said.
‘Oh? And what’s that?’ asked Esme and Mildred in unison.
‘The mystery of Beatrice’s missing ring.’
‘You know what happened to it?’
Esme turned in her chair. ‘Yes. I asked him to join us too and he said he would on his way to the airport. I hope you don’t mind, Alistair.’
‘Not at all,’ replied Fitzjohn as Charles approached.
‘Ladies, Chief Inspector,’ said Charles, taking Alistair’s outstretched hand. ‘Thank you for inviting me, Esme. I wanted to see you all before I leave.’ Charles pulled out a chair and sat down.
‘I’ve just come from a meeting with the agency staff.’
‘Oh,’ said Esme with a grimace ‘It’s never an easy task when you have to let people go.’
Charles smiled. ‘It wasn’t difficult at all, Esme because I won’t be letting anyone go. You see, I came up with a plan to enable the Maybrick Literary Agency to carry on. Not in the same building. That’ll have to be sold, but the funds gained from the sale will enable the business to continue in offices in North Sydney’s hub. The staff seems happy with that idea and I think it would please Beatrice too.’
‘I’m sure it would, wouldn’t it, Mildred?’ said Esme.
‘Oh, yes. It’s a wonderful outcome to a difficult situation. How do you find the staff, Charles?’ continued Mildred, her inquisitive side taking hold.
‘Very interesting. Like a box of chocolates with different centres.’ Charles smiled. ‘Alison’s a bit prickly, but I think she’ll eventually come around. She’s eager to make a success of the business and I’d say that that’s half the battle. Olive Glossop’s eccentric but, according to Alison, a hard worker.’
‘And Max Ziegler?’ asked Fitzjohn. ‘How is he fairing?’
‘Mmm. He’s been through a lot has Max. According to the ladies, his marriage fell apart some time before he was suspended on suspicion of embezzlement so things haven’t be good for him, but he’s back in the office. I spoke to him about his role in the organisation and asked if he will continue as the accountant. I think it’s important not only for him, but for his colleagues. It’ll help them all put the past behind them.’
‘Will Fiona Worth be staying on too?’ asked Esme.
‘Yes. In fact, the two of us have just spent the morning together looking at office space. I’ll leave the choice to Fiona, however. I have every confidence that she’ll choose wisely.’
‘She’s a marvellous girl is Fiona,’ said Esme. ‘You’re very lucky to have her on your staff.’
‘I’m well aware of that, Esme. That’s why I’m so confident in leaving the running of the agency in her hands. We plan to meet at regular intervals so that I can keep abreast of how everything is going. She’s even suggested a few things that I can implement in my veterinary practice.’ Charles smiled at the three faces looking at him across the table. ‘I hope we can all meet again when I’m next in Sydney.’
‘We look forward to it, don’t we Esme?’ replied Mildred.
‘We do.’ Esme paused. ‘There’s just one thing...’
‘What’s that?’ asked Charles.
‘Beatrice had a ring that went missing. Mildred thought she saw Olive wearing it.’
‘Ah, yes.’ Charles felt in his pocket and brought out a blue velvet box and opened it. ‘Is this the ring?’ he asked.
‘Yes. That’s it. Did Olive give it to you?’ asked Esme.
‘No. Beatrice enclosed it in that package that you mailed to me. The ring you saw Olive wearing was as she said, a replica because she had so admired Beatrice’s.’
‘Well, there he goes,’ said Mildred as Charles left the cafe. ‘So tall and handsome. He and Fiona will make a lovely couple.’
‘That may not be the outcome, Mildred,’ replied Esme.
‘Well, we can work toward that end.’
****
CAST OF CHARACTERS – Deadly Investment
Detective Chief Inspector Alistair Fitzjohn
Detective Sergeant Martin Betts
Chief Superintendent Grieg
Detective Constable Carruthers
Detective Senior Constable Williams
Charles Conroy-Pathologist
Esme Timmons
Mildred Banks
Charles Stratton
Preston Alexander-Investor in the Maybrick Literary Agency
Beatrice Maybrick-Playwright & owner of the Maybrick Literary Agency
Alison Maybrick-Agent & Beatrice’s step-daughter
Giles Enfield-Agent
Max Ziegler-Agent
Olive Glossop-Agent’s Assistant
Fiona Worth-Office Manager
Portland Moore-Preston’s nephew
Sophie-Fitzjohn’s niece
Meg-Fitzjohn’s sister
Rhonda Butler-Fitzjohn’s neighbour
Blossom-Rhonda’s sister
Geoffrey Cousins-Preston’s solicitor
Douglas Cameron-Preston’s accountant
Deirdre Richardson, Public Trustee-Beatrice’s Executor
Acknowledgements
I would like to acknowledge Renee Barratt for her talent and expertise in designing not only the cover for Deadly Investment, but the covers of all the books in the Fitzjohn Mystery Series.
Thank you also to my editor and proof reader, Greg Bastian, for his much valued expertise.
Last but by no means least, thank you to Melissa McMaugh for her encouragement and support throughout the writing process.
About the Author
Jill Paterson was born in Yorkshire, UK, and grew up in Adelaide, South Australia before spending 11 years in Ontario, Canada. On returning to Australia, she settled in Canberra.
After doing an Arts Degree at the Australian National University, she worked at the Australian National University’s School of Law before spending the next 10 years with the Business Council of Australia and the University of New South Wales (ADFA Campus) in the School of Electrical Engineering.
Jill is the author of five published novels, The Celtic Dagger, Murder At The Rocks, Once Upon A Lie, Lane’s End, and Deadly Investment which are all part of the Fitzjohn Mystery Series. She has also authored two non-fiction books entitled Self Publishing-Pocket Guide and Writing-Painting A Picture With Words.
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Say Hello!
Jill talks about writing, self publishing and reviews books on her blog The Perfect Plot. She would love you to drop by. Alternatively, you can follow Jill on Twitter, catch up on Facebook or send her an email at:-
jp.fitzjohnmysteries@gmail.com
Also by this Author
The Celtic Dagger
University professor Alex Wearing is found murdered in his study by the Post Graduate Co-coordinator, Vera Trenbath, a nosey interfering busybody. Assigned to the case is Detective Chief Inspector Alistair Fitzjohn. Fitzjohn is a detective from the old guard, whose methodical, painstaking methods are viewed by some as archaic. His relentless pursuit for the killer zeros in on Alex’s brother, James, as a key suspect in his investigation.
Compelled to clear himself of suspicion, James starts his own investigation and finds himself immersed in a web of intrigue, ultimately uncovering long hidden secrets about his brother’s life that could easily be the very reasons he was murdered.
This gripping tale of murder and suspense winds its way through the university’s hallowed halls to emerge into the beautiful, yet unpredictable, Blue Mountain region where more challenges and obstacles await James in his quest to clear himself of suspicion and uncover the truth about his brother.
Available on Amazon.
Murder At The Rocks
When Laurence Harford, a prominent businessman and philanthropist is found murdered in the historic Rocks area of Sydney, Detective Chief Inspector Fitzjohn is asked to solve the crime quickly and discreetly. After barely starting his investigation, uncovering a discarded mistress and disg
runtled employees, a second killing occurs.
Meanwhile, Laurence’s nephew, Nicholas Harford, has his certainties in life shaken when he becomes a suspect in his uncle’s death, and receives a mysterious gold locket that starts a chain of events unravelling his family’s dark truths.
Available on Amazon.
Once Upon A Lie
Little did, businessman and entrepreneur, Michael Rossi know that the telephone call he answered on that fateful Friday would be the catalyst for his death, and the subsequent recovery of his body from the waters of Sydney Harbour the following morning.
Recalled from leave to take on the case, Detective Chief Inspector Fitzjohn confronts the first of many puzzles; how Rossi spent the unaccountable hours before he died. This leads him on a paper-trail into a tangled web of deception, jealousy and greed that unravels the mystery surrounding Michael’s death.
Unaware of her nephew’s fate, Esme Timmons retires for the evening, unsuspecting of the events about to unfold; events that will, ultimately, expose a grim lie, buried deep in the past.
Available on Amazon.
Lane’s End
Sydney’s Observatory on a balmy summer evening is the perfect venue for a cocktail party and, it would seem, a murder, for Peter Van Goren’s body is discovered bludgeoned to death in the grounds. The first question Detective Chief Inspector Fitzjohn must answer is why Van Goren was present given his name does not appear on the guest list. The second is what was the subject of Van Goren’s vehement argument with Richard Carmichael, one of the function’s hosts?
Meanwhile, Richard’s son, Ben Carmichael, a photojournalist, returns to Sydney from an overseas assignment to find his fiancée, Emma Phillips, has gone missing. Although unavoidably dragged into the police investigation, Ben goes in search of her. In so doing, he is drawn to Lane’s End, the abandoned family estate where the very atmosphere awakens disturbing memories.