‘I’d been delegated to make sure Crispin received a copy of the minutes of the meeting which I mentioned earlier so, as soon as I had them typed up, I knocked on his door.’
‘I see. And what time was that?’
‘A few minutes after nine-thirty.’
‘I take it Mr Fairchild didn’t attend the meeting.’
‘No, he didn’t which was a bit of a relief I must say.’
‘Oh? Why was that?’ asked Fitzjohn, his interest piqued.
‘Because we’d voted against his proposal to upgrade the foyer. If he’d been there, I dare say he wouldn’t have given up until we’d all agreed.’
‘If the proposal was so important to him, do you have any idea why he didn’t attend?’
‘No, I don’t but knowing Crispin, he wouldn’t view his absence as a hindrance if we didn’t agree to it, just a minor setback, that’s all.’ Elvira chuckled. ‘The man was full of himself, Chief Inspector. He only attended our building meetings when it didn’t clash with another engagement, which it obviously did last night.’
‘Did you hear him return home, Ms Travers?’
‘Yes, although I didn’t take note of the time. I did, however, hear him playing his violin just before midnight. I remember that because I’d just finished the third draft… of my manuscript, that is,’ she added after a pause. ‘After that, there was silence until I heard someone knocking on his apartment door.’
‘And what time do you think that was, Ms Travers?’
‘It wasn’t long after he’d finished playing the violin so I think it would have been around midnight.’
‘Did you hear him answer the door?’ asked Fitzjohn.
‘No, which I thought was a bit odd since he was at home. I didn’t hear anything after that. Probably because I’d turned on the shower. By the time I came out of the bathroom all was quiet.’
‘Had you been neighbours long, Ms Travers?’ asked Fitzjohn.
‘Only for about six months after all the refurbishments to his apartment were complete. That had taken a number of months.’
‘And would you say that his arrival as a new resident in the building was welcomed?’
Elvira hesitated for a long moment. ‘Initially, it was until he advised us of his refurbishment plans. Not that his proposals weren’t needed, you understand. It was just that the costs would have been prohibitive. That’s why we decided to call an extraordinary general meeting last night.’
****
Fitzjohn left Elvira soon after and went in search of Betts. Hesitating at the elevator doors which stood open, he decided to descend by way of the stairs and found his young sergeant in the foyer studying his notebook.
‘Any luck locating the victim’s next of kin, Betts?’
‘Yes sir. He has a brother by the name of Edmund Fairchild who lives at Mona Vale but I think we’ll more than likely find him at his boat building business in Newport this morning.’
‘Boat building? Obviously, a family of differing talents,’ said Fitzjohn. ‘Very well, we’ll make our way to Newport as soon as we’ve finished here. Do you have a list of the other residents and a layout of the building?’
‘Yes sir. There are six residents in all, counting the victim and two apartments to each of the three floors. Other than Elvira Travers, the only residents who were here at the time the victim’s body was found were Pearl Ambrose, who resides in the apartment above Ms Travers and Morris Elliott, who lives directly above the victim. Apparently, they both came to Ms Travers’s aid this morning when they heard her scream.’
‘So, that accounts for four residents including the victim. What about the other two?’
Betts looked again at his notebook. ‘They are Hector Lombard and Eleanor Reed, sir. Mr Lombard was seen leaving the building around seven this morning. He’s an antique dealer and has a shop in the Strand Arcade on Pitt Street in the city. He’s also the person who monitors the surveillance camera.’
‘And Ms Reed?’
‘She’s a member of the Sydney Symphony, sir, and according to Pearl Ambrose, the orchestra left for Melbourne first thing this morning. They’re due back tonight. I’ve tried to make contact with both Ms Reed and Mr Lombard but as yet there’s no answer from either of them.’
‘Okay, keep trying while I speak to the two residents who are in the building.’
‘Yes sir.’
****
As Fitzjohn approached Pearl Ambrose’s apartment, the door opened and a tall, willowy figure with short dark brown hair emerged.
‘Mrs Ambrose?’ he asked.
‘Yes.’
Fitzjohn held up his warrant card. ‘I’m DCI Fitzjohn. I have the task of investigating your neighbour’s death but I seem to have caught you at a bad time. I see you’re on your way out.’
‘No, not at all, Chief Inspector. I just thought I’d go downstairs to see how Elvira is. She was the person who found Crispin this morning but I imagine you’re aware of that. It shook her up terribly, poor thing. Have you spoken to her yet?’
‘Yes, I have and she seems to be coping although shock can have a delayed effect.’
‘That’s what I was thinking,’ replied Pearl.
‘Well, I’m sure she’ll welcome you looking in on her but could I have a word before you do?’
‘Of course. Come in.’
Fitzjohn stepped inside, closed the door behind him and followed Pearl Ambrose into a living area similar in size to that of Elvira Travers’s but with a cold austere atmosphere. Apart from a single photo in a silver frame which sat on a small table in the far corner near the window, the walls and other surfaces in the room remained unadorned.
‘I’m a singing teacher, Chief Inspector, and this room doubles as my studio,’ said Pearl as if to explain the room’s lack of personal effects.
Fitzjohn cast his eye across to the baby grand piano, the main focus in the room, the adjacent sofa and armchair mere afterthoughts. ‘I’m sure you find many benefits in being able to work from home, Mrs Ambrose,’ said Fitzjohn as he settled himself into the armchair. ‘I understand you went to assist Ms Travers this morning,’ he continued.
‘Yes, I did, after I heard her scream. I knew something must be wrong because Elvira isn’t the melodramatic type. And I was right. When I got downstairs I saw Crispin’s front door wide open and found Elvira in the living room, standing over his body. She was quite rigid as I remember but I did manage to persuade her to follow me outside. That’s when Morris Elliott arrived. He lives on this floor too, above Crispin’s apartment. I asked him to take Elvira back to her apartment and stay with her. I trained as a nurse in my younger days, Chief Inspector, and I wanted to see if there was anything I could do for Crispin even though I was pretty sure he was dead.’
‘And then what did you do?’ asked Fitzjohn.
‘I called triple zero and went downstairs to wait in the foyer for the police. To tell you the truth, I’m still having a problem realising that this has happened. It’s shocking and especially so since Crispin lobbied to have a security system installed at our front entrance.’
‘So there’s currently no security on the front door to the building?’
‘No. It gave up the ghost about a year ago so virtually anyone can walk into the building day or night. We, the residents, that is, kept putting it in the too-hard basket because of the replacement cost and now Crispin has had to pay the price.’
‘When did you last see Mr Fairchild alive?’ asked Fitzjohn.
‘Oh, let’s see. It was early last evening. I’d been out for a stroll in the botanical gardens and I noticed him walking down Macquarie Street towards Circular Quay. I think he was on his way to the Opera House because I’d overheard him mention to one of the other residents that he planned to see the opera, Aida. Last night was its last performance.’
‘Did you hear him return home later on, by any chance?’
‘No, but then I went to bed fairly early. Around ten o’clock, I think. I’d had a full day wit
h my students.’
‘And had you been at home all evening?’
‘Yes.’
‘I understand Mr Fairchild moved in just six months ago. Would you say you’d got to know him well? I ask because I understand he was also a musician so I assume you’d have had a lot in common.’
‘It’s true, we did have music in common but to be honest, I’m not one to get too involved with my neighbours, Chief Inspector. I think when one lives in close proximity as we do in The Claremont, it’s best to keep a measure of distance.’
‘I tend to agree, Mrs Ambrose,’ replied Fitzjohn, his thoughts going to Rhonda Butler and their problematic relationship.
****
Fitzjohn emerged from Pearl Ambrose’s apartment and returned to the foyer where he found Betts speaking to a tall, wiry young man in his mid-thirties. The two looked over when Fitzjohn approached.
‘Sir, this is Morris Elliott. He’s aware you wish to speak to him but he’s also anxious about the time it’ll take.’
‘I know how important this is, Chief Inspector,’ said Elliott. ‘It’s just that my exhibition starts at the art gallery this morning.’
‘In that case, I’ll endeavour to be brief,’ replied Fitzjohn with a quick smile. ‘I take it you’re an artist, Mr Elliott.’
‘That’s right. A sculptor and painter although I tend to lean toward the former which my present exhibition will attest to. I’m exhibiting a number of pieces which I’ve been working on over the past year.’
‘And where do you work from?’ asked Fitzjohn.
‘My apartment.’
‘I see. Your apartment’s directly above that of Crispin Fairchild, isn’t it?’
‘Yes.’
‘In that case, did you hear anything unusual last night?’
‘Only that he stopped playing his violin in the middle of a piece, which is rare because he always finished whatever he was playing. Now, of course, I’m thinking it might have been when he was attacked.’ Morris stared at Fitzjohn, his unease at the prospect evident. ‘You hear of these things happening on the news every day but when it happens to someone you know and a neighbour. Well… it’s unnerving.’
‘Do you remember when you last saw Mr Fairchild?’ asked Fitzjohn.
‘It was yesterday just before noon. He was with another man here in the foyer.’
‘Did you speak to him at the time?’
‘No. He was intent on giving the fellow instructions.’
‘Oh? What kind of instructions?’
‘I can only assume it was in regards to the upgrade of the foyer. Something Crispin seemed determined to have happen.’
‘Were the other residents in agreement?’ asked Fitzjohn.
‘We were until the quotes came in and we realised we couldn’t afford it. We don’t have enough money in our sinking fund for such a refurbishment and none of us can afford to add extra funds to it. As a matter of fact, we held a meeting last night and we all voted against the upgrade. That’s why Elvira went to Crispin’s apartment this morning, to give him a copy of the minutes and explain the reason for our decision.’
‘Other than attending the meeting, were you at home all evening?’ asked Fitzjohn.
‘Yes. I’d spent most of the day at the art gallery getting ready for my exhibition and arrived home just as the meeting was about to start. I spent the rest of the night in my apartment.’
‘Alone?’
‘Yes.’
CHAPTER 4
After the chief inspector left, Elvira latched the door and returned to the living room, the sight of Crispin Fairchild’s bloodied head in her mind’s eye. I feel no surprise at his violent end, she said to herself as she sat down heavily in her armchair again. After all, he was an obnoxious individual with no consideration for any of his neighbours, although perhaps even he didn’t deserve his life to be taken in such a way. A chill went through her at the thought. Even so, I’m pleased I won’t have to listen to him play his violin late at night anymore not to mention being disturbed by his late night visitors. Just as well I didn’t mention that to the chief inspector though because however pleasant he appears to be, he might have got the wrong idea and thought I killed Crispin. Perish the thought. But that said, who did kill him, I wonder? Could it really have been one of my neighbours? Certainly, if I had used this scenario in a novel, more than likely one of them would be the killer because they each had the opportunity as well as the means and method, not to mention the fact that none of them could abide Crispin. But what about that knock on his door after midnight? Was that the arrival of his killer?
As Elvira considered this, the doorbell sounded and with a feeling of annoyance she rose from her chair. Before making her way to the door, however, she looked once again into the face of the young man in the photo frame. ‘You’ll be forever young, Trevor, and I’m so much older now.’ The doorbell sounded again. Elvira sighed, picked up the frame and placed it gently into the drawer of the lamp table before she moved quickly along the hall, her gown rustling as she went.
She opened the door and felt a certain amount of surprise when she found Pearl Ambrose standing there. A reserved woman, she wore a straight, black calf-length skirt together with a pale pink sweater, adorned by a single string of pearls. In sharp contrast to her own flamboyant style of dress, Elvira had always felt they were poles apart. In fact, this was the first time that Pearl had ever called on her in all the fifteen years she had lived at The Claremont. But then again, I’ve never made any effort in that regard myself, she thought. Perhaps it is true that tragedy brings people closer together.
‘I’m sorry to disturb you, Elvira. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay after your ordeal.’
‘I’m all right now albeit ashamed of the way I reacted at the time. Screaming like that was unforgivable.’
‘It’s perfectly understandable under the circumstances, I can assure you,’ replied Pearl as Elvira ushered her inside.
‘Perhaps you’re right. I only hope that not being able to get the sight of Crispin’s body out of my mind is understandable too.’ Elvira winced. ‘Writing about such matters in my novels is one thing, experiencing them is quite another. And to tell you the truth, it’s the first time I’ve seen a dead body,’ she continued as she led the way into the living room. ‘Except for my great aunt Francis, of course, but she’d passed away peacefully in her sleep and was laid out in her coffin wearing her Sunday best. So, not quite the same experience.’ Elvira gestured to an armchair, her bracelets jangling as she did so. ‘Would you like a cup of tea, Pearl? I was just about to make a pot.’
‘Thank you, but I can’t stay,’ replied Pearl as she cast a wandering eye across the room, taking in the brightly coloured cushions and many curios which rested on the tables, perhaps sensing the vibrant atmosphere. ‘You have a lovely home, Elvira. It’s so warm and welcoming.’
‘Thank you,’ replied Elvira with a smile. ‘Are you sure you won’t stay for tea?’
‘No. I have a few things I have to get done; the most important being to telephone the students I have booked for this afternoon so that I can reschedule their lessons. I doubt the police would admit them to the building. At least for today while their investigation is going on.’
‘No, I don’t suppose they would and I hope for your sake things get back to normal as soon as possible. It must be a worry for you when it affects your livelihood.’ Elvira paused. ‘Amazing, isn’t it? Crispin Fairchild disrupted our lives when he was living and he has the ability to continue to do so after his death.’ Pearl shot Elvira a look of surprise. ‘I know, it’s an inappropriate comment to make at a time like this,’ continued Elvira, ‘but let’s face it, the man would have sent us all broke with his grandiose refurbishment plans if he had lived.’
‘Actually, I applaud you, Elvira, for your honesty. And you’re right. I can’t tell you how many sleepless nights I’ve had over the matter and as much as I hate to say it, in that respect, his death is a relief. That’s why I�
�ve been wondering if one of the residents might have done it.’
‘You’re not the only one to think that given the circumstances. It’s crossed my mind more than once,’ replied Elvira, feeling somewhat guilty since she had included Pearl in that thought. After all, from what she had gleaned from Pearl’s interaction with Crispin, it was never smooth. In fact, since the day Crispin had moved into the building, he had campaigned relentlessly to have Pearl find other premises for conducting her singing lessons.
‘Still, it’s hard to imagine one of us being a murderer,’ said Pearl.
‘Yes, it is, but with tensions running high over the refurbishment issue you never know,’ said Elvira. ‘In the heat of the moment, anything can happen. Unless, of course, it was someone other than a resident,’ she continued, the knock on Crispin’s door the previous evening coming to mind. ‘And when you come to think about it, it wouldn’t be difficult when we have no security on our front entrance.’
‘That’s true and if that is the case it’s ironic because installing some kind of security on that door was one of the items on Crispin’s refurbishment proposal,’ said Pearl. ‘The only one I voted for, I might add.’
‘Still, you can’t deny that Crispin has caused us all a great deal of angst since he arrived. For instance, just look at the fiery relationship he had with Morris. I do believe they hated each other.’
‘Don’t remind me,’ said Pearl with a chuckle. ‘Morris loathed the sound of Crispin’s violin, especially late at night. I do wonder if he deliberately dropped pieces of clay on the floor above his apartment when he was working; just to annoy him.’
‘It wouldn’t surprise me,’ said Elvira.
‘And let’s face it, Morris does have a temper albeit, for the most part, concealed,’ said Pearl. ‘I’ve seen it unleashed on occasion when he and Crispin met in confrontation. So, maybe it was Morris because who else is there? I can’t see Eleanor doing such a thing, can you?’
‘No, I can’t. She’s only a slip of a girl,’ replied Elvira. ‘But then again, she is a member of the orchestra which Crispin conducted and she was unhappy with his appointment.’
The Fourth String Page 2
