The Celtic Dagger

by Jill Paterson

  ‘I prefer to walk.’

  ‘It’s no good arguing with him, James. It won’t make the slightest bit of difference.’ Emily Wearing put her arm through her husband’s. ‘Shall we go?’

  ****

  The city at five in the afternoon, bustled with pedestrians and traffic as they made slow progress through its streets.

  Emily Wearing turned to James and smiled. ‘How’s Catherine, dear? I’ve telephoned her a few times, but haven’t managed to catch her.

  ‘She’s doing well, considering. Eve’s been a godsend, of course.’

  ‘I’m sure she has but, at a time like this, I think Catherine needs family around her. I’d like her to come back to Port Macquarie with us after the funeral and stay for a while, until this whole investigation is finished. It can’t be pleasant for her here at the moment.’

  James thought about the letters Catherine had received from the bank and finance companies. He knew she could not get away until she had seen to the matter, but decided not to mention it to his mother. ‘Well, you can ask her tomorrow.’

  ‘Won’t we be seeing her tonight?’

  James looked across at his father, noting his sunken eyes and pallid face. ‘No, Dad. I thought after your flight, it might be wise to have a quiet evening. I told Catherine we’d see her in the morning before the funeral.’

  Emily Wearing caught James’s eye. ‘I think that’s best. Your father and I are both tired.’

  The air felt cold and damp when they got out of the taxi in front of James’s house. James opened the front door and they stepped into the warmth. ‘Oh, that’s better,' sighed his mother. 'I’d forgotten how cold it can be in Sydney in July.’ James put the bags down and helped his mother with her coat.

  ‘Harold. You’re tired. Why don’t you go into the living room and I’ll make you a nice cup of tea.’

  ‘Stop fussing, Em. I’m not tired and I don’t want tea.’ Harold Wearing handed James his overcoat and walked into the living room.

  Emily Wearing shook her head. ‘Oh, very well. Have it your way.’

  James listened, thinking how familiar his parents sounded.

  ‘Perhaps you’d like a whisky, Dad,’ he said.

  ‘Sounds like a good idea.’

  James looked around at his mother, who stood next to the desk. ‘Mother, what can I get for you?’

  Emily Wearing turned, Louise’s photograph in her hand. ‘Oh, nothing for me, dear. I’m going upstairs to change while you and your father talk.’ She put the photograph back down, touched James’s arm and left the room.

  Harold Wearing settled himself into an armchair. ‘She’s as bossy as ever, but having said that, she’s a wonderful woman. These past few weeks can’t have been easy for her, what with my heart attack and Alex’s death.’ James handed his father a drink and they sat in silence for the next few minutes.

  ‘It’ll be good to see Catherine again. The last time we saw her was about nine months ago when she and Alex drove up to see us. They were such a devoted couple.’ James knew his parents believed the happiness that Alex and Catherine had presented was real, and he decided to leave it that way.

  Harold Wearing took a sip of his whisky before putting his glass down on the table next to his chair. ‘I want to ask you about the investigation while your mother’s out of the room. No point in upsetting her with all the details.’

  ‘I didn’t come all this way to be kept in the dark about what’s going on, Harold.’ At the sound of her voice, James and his father looked around to see Emily Wearing coming back into the room with the evening paper under her arm. She glanced at James, put the newspaper on the coffee table, and sat down on the sofa next to him.

  ‘I just don’t want you getting upset, Em.’

  ‘We’re all upset, Harold.’

  ‘Very well.’ Harold Wearing looked back at James. ‘Have the police recovered the weapon?’

  ‘Yes, they have.’ James hesitated. ‘It was found on my desk when I arrived back from Melbourne.’

  Emily Wearing grabbed James’s arm. ‘On your desk?’

  ‘Yes.’ James paused. ‘The fact is, the weapon is one of three artefacts that went missing, the day Alex died. They’d been on loan through the Australian Museum for an open day.

  ‘What were they?’ asked Emily Wearing, her voice just a whisper.

  ‘A gold torque, a ring and a Celtic dagger.’

  She gasped. ‘Oh dear. The dagger was on your desk.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘They can’t think that you had anything to do with Alex’s death. Surely.’ Silence fell on the room.

  Harold Wearing frowned. ‘What about the other two artefacts? Have they been found?’

  ‘Yes, and therein lies another problem.’

  ‘What do you mean, dear?’ asked Emily.

  ‘Catherine found the ring in Alex’s study at home.’

  Harold Wearing sat forward in his chair. ‘What was it doing there?’

  ‘I don’t know, Dad.’

  ‘What about the torque?’

  ‘It was found in Tristan Harrow’s office. He’s a colleague.’

  Harold nodded. ‘Yes, we’ve met on occasion. A bit of an obnoxious fellow, as I remember.’ He paused. ‘Do you think he had anything to do with Alex’s death?'

  James hesitated. ‘The thought did cross my mind but, no, I don’t think Tristan would be capable of such an act.’

  ‘What do the police say about all this?’

  ‘So far very little.’

  ****

  Eve Lawrence greeted them when they arrived at Catherine’s the next morning. A softly spoken woman in her late sixties, she had been housekeeper to Catherine and Alex for twenty years. She rarely spoke of her earlier life. Except for a sister in Mittagong, the only information Catherine had managed to glean was that Eve’s husband had died a few months prior to her arrival.

  ‘Mr and Mrs Wearing, I’m so pleased to see you. Come in. It’s been a long time since you’ve been to Sydney, hasn’t it? Here, let me take your coats.’

  At that same moment, Catherine came down the stairs, dressed in a calf length black woollen dress, her blonde hair pulled back from her face and tied at the nape of her neck. She smiled when she saw them. ‘Emily. Harold.’

  ‘It’s been too long, Catherine.’ Emily Wearing put her arms around her daughter-in-law and kissed her on both cheeks. ‘I’m so sorry about this, my dear. You’ll have to be strong.’ Catherine nodded. ‘I want you to come and stay with us. You shouldn’t be alone at a time like this.’

  Catherine glanced at James before looking back at Emily. ‘Thanks, Emily, that’s very kind and I will do, but there are matters I must attend to first, I’m afraid.’ She smiled at Emily and put her arm around her. ‘Come into the living room and make yourselves at home.’ Looking around at Eve, she asked, ‘Can you make coffee for us please, Eve?’

  An hour later, when the cars arrived, they stepped out into the bleak morning and made their way to the memorial service and then on to the cemetery.

  ****

  A sombre atmosphere hung over those assembled at the graveside. There were many unfamiliar faces amongst the familiar. James realised then how far-flung Alex’s reputation must have been. Beside him, Catherine stood rigid, her eyes cast down at the casket, oblivious to the cold breeze that swept through their midst. Moments later, the sky darkened and the first drops of rain fell. James raised his umbrella while others followed; all huddled under a mass of black. His gaze travelled to the edge of the gathering and fell upon Ashley Manning. Their eyes met and James reflected on their last encounter and her annoyance at his questions. Moments passed before Ashley turned her head and moved away from the graveside.

  As the service ended, the gathering dispersed and they walked to the waiting cars. Emily and Harold Wearing walked ahead with Eve Lawrence, his mother sobbing quietly, his father silent. James glanced at Catherine at his side; tears rolling down her face. Just then, she stumbled. He put his arm a
round her. ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘Yes.’

  When they reached the car, the driver opened the door and James helped Catherine in. Eve Lawrence climbed in after her. ‘I’ll see you back at the house.’

  Emily Wearing moved over when James got into the other car. ‘The poor dear,' his mother said. 'Such a difficult day for her.’

  Rain fell steadily while they drove, each of them silent, lost in their own thoughts. At the house, a steady stream of people started to arrive. James took off his coat and turned to Catherine, while Eve Lawrence guided his parents into the living room. ‘Catherine, you don’t have to stay down here. Would you rather go upstairs?’

  Catherine took her coat off, her face white. ‘No. I’d sooner see to the guests, James.’ She turned without another word and walked in amongst those gathered in the living room.

  ‘James.’ James turned to see Nicholas Ellis, his best friend. A tall man in his early forties, his short-cropped grey hair framed an angular face. He moved with an awkward gate and took James’s outstretched hand. ‘My condolences.’

  ‘Thanks, Nick. I’m glad you could come.’ James knew Nicholas had had experience with sudden and violent death when he served in Afghanistan. After losing his leg, and with his military career ended, he had returned to the Blue Mountains and the village of Blackheath, where they both grew up. Now, he lived a quieter life as the proprietor of a bed-and-breakfast inn.

  ‘How’s Catherine holding up?’ The two men looked through to the living room in Catherine’s direction.’

  ‘She's managing, but only just.’

  ‘And you?’

  James raised his eyebrows. ‘We’ll talk later. Are you staying in Sydney for the night?’

  ‘No. I have to get back. We have a few guests at the moment. A bit much for Mrs Thompson to manage on her own.’

  When Nick moved away to mingle with the other guests, James made his way back to the front door, where he found Vera Trenbath.

  ‘A very nice service, James.’

  ‘It was, Vera.’ James took Vera’s coat and placed it over a chair next to the stairs. ‘Come through.’ James led the way into the living room, where Simon Rhodes stood talking to Tristan Harrow. As James and Vera approached, Tristan glared at Vera, who changed direction and made her way to the other side of the room. Tristan excused himself from his conversation and followed Vera.

  ‘My condolences, James,’ Simon said, shaking James's hand.

  ‘Thanks, Simon. It’s good of you to come.’

  Simon undid the top button of his suit coat and took a drink off the tray offered by one of the caterers. ‘Your brother was a dear friend. I’ve been away from Sydney for some years, I know, but we did keep in touch to a certain extent.’ He sipped his drink.

  ‘So what brings you back?’

  ‘Divorce.’

  James frowned. ‘Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.’

  ‘Yes, it’s a shame. The business side of things couldn’t have been better. We had an antique business on Toorak Road in South Yarra. But as is the case with many couples, I suspect, on the domestic front we couldn’t get on. In the end, it became intolerable, so we worked out an amicable arrangement and went our separate ways.’ Simon took another sip of his drink. ‘I must admit, I was a bit lost afterwards. That’s why I decided to return to Sydney to make a fresh start.’ James nodded. ‘I’ve opened a financial consultancy business.’

  ‘Tristan did mention that. How’s it going?’

  ‘Well, it’s small, but I’m sure it’ll grow. I have a card here somewhere.’ Simon fumbled in his inside coat pocket. ‘Yes, here’s one.’ He handed the card to James and smiled. ‘If ever you’re in need of financial advice, let me know.’

  James took the card and seized the opportunity to find out more about Simon and his relationship with Alex.

  ‘As a matter of fact, I’ve been wondering what to do with a bit of money I have invested.’

  ‘Well, why don’t you drop around to my office tomorrow afternoon? Perhaps I can help.’

  'Excuse me, Dr Wearing.' James turned to see Eve Lawrence at his side. 'Your father wishes to speak to you in the study.’

  ‘Is he all right?’

  ‘Just a little tired, I believe.’

  James turned to Simon. ‘Will you excuse me, Simon?’

  ‘Yes, of course. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’

  The hum of voices died away as James made his way through the house to the study. He found his father sat in the armchair behind the door, his mother perched on its arm. She looked up when he came into the room.

  ‘Ah, James, I think it’s time we left. Your father’s very tired. I’m sorry.’

  ‘Don’t be. People are starting to leave. I’ll just have a word with Catherine, and then we’ll be on our way.’ James left the study and went back into the living room where he could see Catherine talking to Simon Rhodes. He crossed the room toward her as Simon moved away.

  ‘Catherine, I’m afraid we’re going to have to make a move. Dad’s very tired.’

  ‘Oh, of course. I’m sorry. I feel I’ve neglected them today.’

  ‘I’m sure you haven’t.’ They walked out of the living room and into the front hall. ‘I saw you speaking to Simon Rhodes,' James added. 'I didn’t know whether you’d remember him.’

  ‘How could I forget? He came to my sister Rosemary’s funeral.’ Catherine paused. ‘But we’ve met since then. He dropped by to see Alexander a few times.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Yes, something to do with antiques, I think.’

  CHAPTER 11

  When he reached 60 Miller Street in North Sydney, James entered the building and walked over to the notice board beside the elevator. Rhodes & Associates, in large gold letters, stood out behind the glass. He took the elevator to the first floor and walked along until he found Simon's office. Its door was ajar. He pushed it open and walked in to find a windowless room, the only furniture a reception desk and several chairs placed around the walls. Another door next to the desk opened and Simon appeared, dressed in a dark grey business suit with a maroon tie and handkerchief in the upper pocket. With his hair perfectly trimmed and his fingernails neatly manicured, he looked the epitome of order and control.

  ‘James, I thought that must be you.’ James shook Simon’s hand. ‘Come through.’ James followed Simon into a large office, its windows overlooking the street below. ‘You didn’t have any trouble finding the place, I hope.’

  ‘No, none at all.’ James sat down on one of the two green leather bound chairs in front of Simon’s desk. ‘It’s good of you to see me at such short notice, Simon.’

  ‘I’m pleased to help in any way I can. I know it must be a difficult time. I suppose Alex’s work will stop now.’

  James opened his briefcase and took out a folder while Simon sat back, his hands clasped together, his elbows resting on the arms of his chair. ‘No.’ James cleared his throat. ‘Tristan Harrow has stepped in to take over some of Alex's duties, so we’ll continue on. It’s what Alex would have wanted.’

  ‘Yes, I’m sure he would. He was a dedicated man, your brother. How’s everything else going? With the investigation, I mean.’

  ‘There’s been no word for the past few days, but I’m sure the police are doing their best.’

  James looked into Simon’s cold, grey eyes and wondered, again, why he had contacted Alex after so many years and what the reason was for his visit the day Alex died. ‘You say you spoke to Alex the day he died. How did he seem at the time?’

  Simon shifted in his chair. ‘In fine spirits. He’d asked me to drop by for much the same reason you’re here now. His finances. We really didn’t talk about anything else, other than the weather. I didn’t stay long. He was pressed for time that afternoon because of the dinner that evening.’ Simon shook his head. ‘I still find it hard to believe. We all, I suppose, take life for granted to a certain extent.’

  'We do.'

  James looked at his w
atch. ‘It’s getting late, Simon, and I don’t want to keep you.’ He passed the folder across the desk. Simon sat forward, moved the papers in front of him to one side and opened it. ‘I have the whole amount invested in shares, but I’ve decided I’d like to break it up. You might have a few ideas.’

  Simon looked up. ‘Well, I think you have the right idea. What I might suggest is that you invest in two or three different ventures, perhaps in a managed fund, shares and property. I have a couple of brochures here you might like to take away with you to have a look at.’ Simon opened his desk drawer, brought out the brochures and handed them to James. ‘Why don’t we meet for lunch tomorrow?' he went on. 'In the meantime, I’ll see what I can come up with.’

  ‘Sounds good.’

  ****

  James left Simon’s office and took the elevator back down to the foyer. He stood in the entrance and looked out onto Miller Street where a soft rain now fell in the early evening light. Simon’s reason for seeing Alex seemed plausible enough. Alex, he knew, had always taken professional advice about his financial investments. Could it be that Alex and Simon had found common ground in which to communicate? James opened his briefcase and took out his umbrella, a feeling of doubt mixed with cynicism lingering in his mind. He pushed the button on the handle of the umbrella and, as it unfurled, stepped out into the rain and walked down to Blue Street and the North Sydney train station.

  Fifteen minutes later, he arrived at Redfern and walked on to the university. At the library, he collected the books he had ordered earlier in the day, made his way to one of the tables alongside the windows and peeled off his damp overcoat.

  ‘Dr. Wearing?’ James looked up to see, Ashley Manning, her hair dampened by the rain, her face white.

  ‘Ashley.’ Ashley’s body swayed. James lurched forward and pulled out a chair. ‘Here, you’d better sit down. I’ll get you some water.’

  ‘No. It’s all right. I’ll be fine.’ James sat back down. ‘I just took a chance you’d be here.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Yes, I... I wanted to tell you...’ She paused and James could sense her disquiet. ‘That is, I want to apologise for the other day. I don’t know what came over me.’ Ashley paused again. ‘It’s just that since Professor Wearing’s death, things haven’t been going too well, and you took me unawares.’