‘Actually I left Sydney early this morning, Miles. I’m in Melbourne now.’
‘Oh, I see.’ James noticed hesitation in Miles Bennett’s voice.
‘Is there something wrong?’
Miles replied after a moment of silence. ‘Yes, there is. The three artefacts we borrowed through the Australian Museum for the open day tomorrow are missing.’
James glanced at Claudio. ‘You're sure about this?’
'Yes. I'm positive.'
‘Who has access to them besides you and me?’
‘No one. Oh, except Professor Wearing. He has a master key.’
‘Yes, of course. Have you spoken to my brother?’
‘No, not yet. I thought I’d talk to you first.’
‘Well, have a word with him, Miles. He may have them for some reason, although I can’t think of one.’
‘And if he hasn’t?’
‘Then we’ll have to notify the museum and the police, but for now, let’s hope Alex has them. Let me know how you get on.’
James pressed the button on his mobile phone and put it into his briefcase.
‘A problem, my friend?’
‘Yes. That was Miles Bennett in Sydney. The department’s having an open day tomorrow and the artefacts we borrowed through the Australian Museum for the occasion are missing.’
'What were they?'
'A Celtic dagger, a gold torque, and a ring.'
‘Stolen?’
James frowned. ‘I don’t know. Miles and I are the only people with access to them, although Alex holds a master key.’
‘And this Miles Bennett - you trust him?’
‘Yes. Completely. I’ve known Miles for years. I’m sure there’s a perfectly good explanation, but still, it’s a worry.’
****
James made his way back to his hotel to await Mile Bennett’s call, his thoughts plagued by their earlier conversation. If Alex did not have the artefacts, he would have to fly back to Sydney. He unlocked the door to his room and went inside. As he put his briefcase on the bed, his mobile phone rang again. ‘Miles?’
A silence followed for a moment on the other end of the line. ‘No. This is Detective Chief Inspector Fitzjohn, from the New South Wales Police. Is that Dr Wearing?’
James frowned. ‘Yes.’
‘Dr Wearing, your sister-in-law, Catherine Wearing, has asked me to contact you and your parents.’
‘Oh?’
‘Yes. ‘I’m afraid I have distressing news to convey, sir. Your brother, Alex Wearing, has died under suspicious circumstances.’
James did not reply.
‘I realise this is a shock, Doctor, but I’d like to speak to you. Not over the telephone. Might I ask your whereabouts at the moment?’
‘Ah...’ James hesitated while he tried to organise his thoughts. ‘I’m in Melbourne. I arrived this morning.’
‘Oh, I see.’
‘When did this happen, Chief Inspector?’
‘Sometime in the early hours of this morning.’
‘And you say suspicious circumstances?’
‘Yes, your brother was found this afternoon in his office at the university with stab wounds to his back and neck.’
‘My God, is Catherine all right?’
‘As well as can be expected under the circumstances, but I’m sure your attendance would help. There doesn’t seem to be any other family members here in Sydney.’
James ran his hand across the back of his neck. ‘No, there aren’t. Have you spoken to my parents yet?’
‘Yes. Just a few minutes ago.’
James’s thoughts went to his mother and father. What would this news do to them? His father’s recent heart attack, he knew, had drained his mother of her usual vitality, and the ordeal had left his father a shadow of the man James once knew. ‘Chief Inspector, can you let Catherine know that I’ll get back to Sydney as soon as I can?’
‘I’ll convey your message, Dr Wearing.’
When he hung up, James sat motionless for a while, his conversation with Miles Bennett forgotten.
He picked up the telephone again and dialled his parents’ number. His mother answered, her voice no more than a whisper. ‘Hello.’
‘Mother.’ James heard his mother’s quiet sobs.
‘Oh James. Thank God you’ve called. I take it you've heard.’
‘Yes, the police just phoned. The problem is I'm in Melbourne at the moment.’
'So, Catherine's quite alone. She must be in a state. Can you get back to Sydney tonight?
James looked at his watch. ‘No. It’s too late to get a flight this evening. I'll have to wait till morning.'
'Oh, well, it can't be helped.'
‘What about you and Dad?’
'Your father and I will be there when he's feeling a little stronger, dear.'
'How is Dad?'
‘He’ll be all right. We both will.’
James could hear the determination in his mother’s voice, so familiar to him. ‘Very well. I'll be in touch.'
CHAPTER 3
James arrived in Sydney early the next morning, climbed into a taxi and slumped back against the seat. Fatigued, he tried to still the emotions within him as the taxi made its way through the city to Catherine's home in Neutral Bay, where a crowd of reporters and photographers had gathered. He paid the driver, grabbed his suitcase and climbed out. Ignoring the journalists' questions, he closed the wooden gate behind him and made his way through the lush garden towards the house, its familiar facade bringing back memories from his early childhood when he and Alex had spent their school holidays here with their grandparents.
The front door opened as he approached and Catherine appeared, frail and drawn. She looked past him along the garden path. Once inside, James put his arms around her as she began to sob.
‘Why do they persist?’
‘Don’t worry about them Catherine. They’ll get tired of standing out there eventually. What about a cup of coffee? It’ll do us both good.’
They walked through to the back of the house and into the kitchen, where James found the usual warmth and order of the room gone. In its place was a sense of uncertainty. He pulled out a chair for Catherine at the table in front of the folding glass doors. The doors looked out onto the terrace and the harbour beyond.
As he made the coffee, he looked back at Catherine. She sat motionless, unaware of his actions. He took the mugs to the table and sat down. He could see the strain in her face and took her hand. ‘Do you feel up to talking about it?’
Catherine sat with her eyes fixed on some point at the other side of the room. ‘The last time I saw Alexander was at the dinner.’ Her voice was low, toneless. ‘I left early. Not long after you. I could see it was going to be a long evening.’ Tears sprang to her eyes. ‘I should have stayed. If I had, he might still be alive. We’d have come home together.’
‘You don’t know that, Catherine. You know Alex - he might still have decided to go back to his office to work.’
Catherine nodded. ‘Perhaps you’re right. He often worked through the night. That’s why I wasn’t surprised the next morning when I saw he hadn’t come home.’ Catherine took a sip of the steaming brew. ‘We’d all but gone our separate ways in recent years, except for those occasions when it was appropriate for us to be seen together.’ She shook her head and started to sob. ‘We rarely spoke. Perhaps if things had been different…’
James squeezed her hand gently. ‘Don’t blame yourself. Alex wasn’t an easy man to get on with.’
‘No, he wasn’t but even so…’ She hesitated, her bottom lip quivered and her voice broke. ‘To have this happen to him. Who would want to kill him?’
Catherine flinched and the movement knocked a spoon to the tiled floor. James watched her body tense. She pushed her hair back from her face. ‘The police came late yesterday afternoon to tell me Alexander’s body had been found in his office. I went with them to identify him.’ She reached for a tissue from the box on the table
and wiped her face.
‘I know this is a difficult time, Catherine, but you’ll get through it, believe me.’
‘Have you got over Louise’s death?’
James frowned. ‘No. Not really.’
James decided to change the subject. ‘Where’s Eve?’ Catherine's housekeeper, Eve Lawrence, was conspicuously absent.
‘Her sister became ill and she went to stay with her last night. She’ll be back later this afternoon.’
‘I’ll stay until she gets back, then.’
‘There’s no need. I’m sure you have things to do.’ Catherine took another sip of coffee.
‘Is there anything I can do for you, then?’
‘No, but there is something I want to show you.’
As Catherine stood up, she swayed and caught the back of the chair. James put his arm out to steady her.
‘Are you all right?’
‘Yes. Just a little light-headed. What I want to show you is in Alexander’s study.’
James followed her into the darkened room. ‘I came in here yesterday before the police arrived to put Alexander’s mail on his desk.’ She walked over to the window and drew back the curtains allowing a meagre amount of light to strike the floor. ‘That’s when I noticed it.’ She unfolded a blue cloth in the centre of the desk. ‘I’m not an archaeologist, James, but I know this is an artefact and I can’t imagine what it’s doing here. I’ve never known Alexander to keep anything like this at home.’
‘What on earth! It’s the gold ring we borrowed through the Australian Museum for the open day.’ James stared at the intricate patterns engraved into the gold. ‘It dates back to the fourth century.’ He looked up at Catherine. ‘Miles Bennett from our department called me in Melbourne about it.' He recounted their conversation.
The colour drained from Catherine’s face. ‘Surely you’re not thinking… James, Alexander wouldn’t steal artefacts. He lived for his work.’
James put his arms around Catherine as she wept. ‘I know he wouldn’t and I’m not suggesting he did. I’m sure there’s a perfectly good explanation why the ring is here in his study, but I need to find out what it is. His reputation’s at stake here.’
Catherine nodded. ‘You’re right, of course.’ She sat down in the chair behind the desk, her arms wrapped around herself against the cold of the room. ‘You two never did get on, did you?’
‘No, not really.’ James looked out onto the garden where the trees moved with the force of the wind. ‘There was always a sense of rivalry between us. Even as children.’
‘I can imagine. Alexander was a very competitive man.’
‘And determined.’ James paused. ‘Still, I suppose that’s part of the reason he was so successful.’ James turned and half smiled at Catherine as his thoughts went to the last time he and Alex had spoken before the commencement of the dinner. Their conversation had quickly descended into an argument, with Alex’s insistence they sell Cragleigh, the family home in the Blue Mountains they owned jointly. He still could not understand Alex’s sudden desire to sell. Just then, he heard Catherine’s voice.
‘What shall we do?’
James turned from the window. ‘You need do nothing and I don’t want you worrying about this.’ James wrapped the ring in its blue cloth and put it into his pocket. ‘I’ll take this back to the university and contact Edward Sommersby at the museum, and the police.’
James's thoughts went to Catherine. Having no children, and with her only sister, Rosemary, dying in a car accident years before, she was now alone.
'Are you sure you don't want me to stay with you until Eve gets back? I don’t like the thought of you being here alone,’ he said.
‘No, you go on, James. Eve will be here in a couple of hours and I do need to have a rest.’
****
James ignored the questions hurled at him as he left the house and made his way through the crowd and into a waiting taxi. He felt sadness for Alex and the way he had died and yet, at the same time, a sense of relief that the continual tension between them was now gone. As the taxi sped off, confusion and guilt gripped him, and he felt real grief for the first time.
CHAPTER 4
Jostled by the media when he arrived at the University, James passed through the area cordoned off by the police and escaped into his building, where he found the usual atmosphere and pace replaced by heightened activity and unrest. Unfamiliar faces filled the hallways, while students glanced at him, their expressions intensifying the uncertainty in the air.
He reached his office and unlocked the door but, as he went to step inside, he stopped in his tracks. The drawn blinds had left the room in darkness save for the small lamp that illuminated his desk. Perplexed, James crossed the floor. There, in the centre of the desk, the Celtic dagger and its gold scabbard lay side by side, pointing toward his chair. James stared at the iron blade, etched with a myriad of patterns. As he did so, the silence in the room was broken.
‘Dr Wearing, I wonder if you’d mind saying a few words about your brother’s murder.’ James turned to see a police constable appear in the doorway and pull the offending journalist away. He closed the door and leant back against it. Who had been in here and laid the dagger out in such a way? In the next moment, a knock sounded at the door. Wary, he opened it tentatively and found a short, stout man, his small wire-framed glasses half way down the bridge of his nose.
‘Dr Wearing, I’m Detective Chief Inspector Fitzjohn. We spoke last night. This is Detective Sergeant Betts.’ The Chief Inspector half turned to a tall, ginger-haired young man. ‘I wonder if we might have a word.’
‘Yes, Chief Inspector, come in.’
Fitzjohn took in the small, dimly lit room, its bookcase shelves overflowing, the remnants finding their place in piles on the floor. He paused when they reached the desk.
‘I arrived a few minutes ago, Chief Inspector, and found this,' said James. 'It’s a Celtic dagger. The department borrowed it, along with two other artefacts, through the Australian Museum. They were to be exhibited at an open day we’d planned. All three were discovered missing yesterday.’
Fitzjohn removed his glasses and bent over the desk. ‘And what exactly are the other two artefacts?’
‘A gold torque and a ring. They’re all part of an elite burial of the Hallstatt D era and date from around 500 BC.’
Fitzjohn’s eyebrows rose. ‘So, a great loss if not found.’
‘Yes.’
‘Who found them to be missing?’
‘Miles Bennett.’ James recounted his conversation with Miles.
‘Have you spoken to Mr Bennett since your return from Melbourne?’
‘No. I’d planned to see him this morning to tell him the ring’s been found.’
‘Oh?’
‘Yes. Catherine, Alex’s wife, found it in his study at home. I have it here.’ James pulled the blue cloth from his pocket and unfolded it.
‘So two of the artefacts have been recovered but there’s still one not accounted for. A torque, did you say?’
James nodded. ‘It’s a piece of jewellery worn around the neck.’
‘I’m aware of what it is, Doctor, and I can confirm that it wasn’t found in your brother’s office.’
Fitzjohn turned to Betts. ‘Get forensics in here, Betts. Dr Wearing and I will continue our conversation elsewhere.’ He looked back at James. ‘Follow me, Dr Wearing.’ They walked in silence, James aware of the eyes that avoided his and the hush that descended as they approached one of the tutorial rooms.
As Fitzjohn closed the door, James sat down on one side of a long oak table. Fitzjohn settled himself on the other side, his back to the window. ‘I’d planned to contact Edward Sommersby about the artefacts this morning,’ said James. ‘He’s the director at the museum.’
‘I suggest you leave that to me, Dr Wearing. The artefacts Mr Bennett reported to you as missing are now part of our investigation.’
‘What about Miles Bennett?’
‘We�
�ll interview Mr Bennett.’
Fitzjohn leaned back in his chair, his elbows resting on its arms, his hands clasped in front of him. ‘What I would like, Dr Wearing, is to establish your movements on the night of your brother’s death.’
‘Yes, of course. I was here at a dinner given in Alex’s honour. I arrived at about seven-thirty.’
‘And you stayed till what time?’
‘About eleven.’
‘And then?’
‘I got a taxi home.’
‘Alone?’
‘Yes. I was alone until I left for the airport the next morning. I took the 6:30 flight to Melbourne to...' James stopped as the door opened and Sergeant Betts entered the room, sitting down at the far end of the table with a small notebook and pen.
‘And what was your business in Melbourne, Doctor?’
‘As I was about to say, to attend a conference. I was to give a paper this afternoon.’
Fitzjohn nodded. ‘So these travel plans were made days, weeks ago?’
James hesitated. ‘Yes and no. That is, I registered for the conference about a month ago and made the airline booking at the same time, but then I decided to leave a day early.’
Fitzjohn’s brow furrowed. ‘When did you decide to do that?’
‘After I got home from the dinner.’
Sergeant Betts looked up at James.
‘Why did you change your mind?’ asked Fitzjohn.
James could see in their faces what his sudden change in plans looked like. ‘To be quite honest, Alex and I argued that evening.’
‘When?’
‘Shortly before the dinner started.’
‘I see. And what did you argue about?’
‘A difference of opinion about a family matter.’ James shook his head. ‘It wasn’t important.’
Fitzjohn’s eyes narrowed. ‘But important enough for you to change your flight arrangements.’ James did not reply.
‘I’ll ask you again, Doctor. What was the argument about?’
‘It was about Cragleigh. A property in the Blue Mountains. Alex and I own it jointly ... or at least we did. Alex has been at me to agree to sell.’
The Celtic Dagger Page 2
