by C. A. Larmer
Gilda scribbled something down on her desk diary and nodded. “Back to Berny Tiles, though. You said there’s a new wife on the scene; I think I better have a chat to her.”
Roxy’s eyes squinted. “Yeah, she seems sweet enough, but Sondra calls her a ‘Johnny come lately’ and you have to wonder about her motive, too.”
“Oh?”
“Well, why is a pretty, thirty-something woman suddenly attracted to a crusty old surveyor with very little to his name? I mean, it all happened very fast.”
“So what’s her motive? She wasn’t even written into the will and no one knew about this mine,” said Gilda, and Roxy shook her head.
“Maybe Renata did!” Her eyes squinted further. “Think about it. She’d been working at the Bergman house. The Bergmans would have learned about the mine long before it became public knowledge. They probably discussed it at home amongst themselves. Well, guess who was also in that home? Renata! She was their housekeeper until two months ago. What if she overheard them discussing it, saying how it really belonged to Berny Tiles and got the idea to lure Berny in, marry him and thus claim her share of the lucrative mine?”
“Except, like Sondra, she wouldn’t have had a clue where the deed was, or she would have claimed it by now.”
“That’s true,” said Roxy. “But maybe she hoped to get her mitts on the deed. Sondra said that Renata’s been watching her like a hawk. Maybe she’s also been going through Berny’s stuff trying to find it. Her son’s practically moved in, too, maybe he’s helping.”
Roxy suddenly had a flash of a tall, faceless man rushing her in her apartment. Could that have been Renata’s son, searching for the deed?
“Okay, but here’s the thing I don’t get. Why kill Bernard Tiles before the deed is found? Wouldn’t it make more sense for Renata to woo it out of her husband, then, after he’s claimed the mine, bump him off for her share? Or, more sensibly, wait for him to die—he was no spring chicken, after all—then cash in?”
Roxy sighed and sat back, pulling her glasses off and giving them a wipe on her cream jumper. “I know, that’s the bit I keep getting stuck on. The only person who had a reason to kill Berny before the deed was found was Wolfgang Bergman and/or his wife and sons. Everybody else—Sondra, her hubby, Renata, her son, whoever you want to point the finger at—would be absolute idiots to bump him off before the deed was located.” She shoved her glasses back on. “And what if I had never looked in that frame? What if Sharon had chucked the frame out? It’s too risky. Berny was more valuable to everyone alive than dead. Everyone that is, except Wolfgang Bergman.”
Gilda stood up and stretched. “So we’re back to square one. To Sir Wolfgang himself. Fan-bloody-tastic. I’m gonna have to bring him in and the chief is not going to like this one bit.”
“Neither will Ginny. Wolfman’s been battling pneumonia for the past month so you might have to go to him.”
She nodded begrudgingly. “What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to go to him, too. He’s got a lot of explaining to do.”
“Hang on, Missy, this is a homicide investigation now—”
“Don’t even try!” Roxy said, holding one hand high. “You guys would have nothing if it wasn’t for me, and who’s to say I wasn’t chatting to Wolfgang just as you showed up?” She jumped up and grabbed her handbag. “I’ll beat you there!”
Roxy raced out the door just as Calhoun was opening it, a photocopy in his hand.
“Good copying, Constable! We’ll make a detective out of you yet,” she told him while Gilda bellowed loudly behind her.
Chapter 28
Ginny Bergman had given up being annoyed with Roxy and simply sighed dramatically when she arrived and showed her through, bum wiggling, beehive hairdo bobbing up and down on top of her head.
“He’s getting better,” she snapped, “and he wants to have a word with you anyway.”
Roxy’s eyebrows shot skyward. This was one for the books! She followed Ginny through the house and back out to the garden, which came as a relief to Roxy. The weather was still chilly but she didn’t like the idea of being cooped up in the library with a potential killer, even one as frail as old Bergman.
The sun poked out of the clouds as Roxy peered across the freshly mowed lawn and spotted Wolfgang in his recliner, his head tilted to one side awkwardly.
“Go ahead,” Ginny said, not following. “He’s just dozing.”
Roxy walked towards the aging mining magnate and coughed as she got closer, hoping to wake him up, but when she got there, his eyes were still shut, and for one dreadful moment she thought he was dead. She reached a hand out to touch him when he suddenly stirred and stared straight at her. She jumped back, startled.
“Not gone yet, Roxanne,” he croaked and she smiled nervously.
“No, ’course not.”
He straightened up and waved a rough hand towards the seat beside him. She brushed a few leaves off, sat down and waited as he took a good gulp of his water and straightened the checkered blanket that was across his legs.
“Old age is crap, Roxanne, and don’t let anyone tell you differently.”
“Oh I won’t. I’ve already suspected as much.”
He chuckled, coughing again as he did so. “You’re a little too clever for your own boots, you know, even if they are very sexy boots.”
He was ogling her high-heeled, brown suede boots and she tucked them underneath her, thinking, “Sir Sleazebag is back. He must be on the mend.”
“So, you’ve come to harass me again?” he said.
“Actually, your wife said you wanted to see me.”
He nodded. “I did want to have a word with you, come clean so to speak. But perhaps we had better wait for the coppers, eh?”
Roxy followed his eyes back towards the house where Ginny was showing Gilda and Calhoun down the pebbled pathway towards them.
“You called them, I assume?” She shrugged, not giving anything away. “I didn’t kill Berny Tiles, Roxanne, or Gordo for that matter.”
“You’re the only one with clear motive,” she said and his eyes flickered across to her.
“Now that’s where you start to disappoint me. You’ve been led down the garden path, my dear, and I’m not talking about my garden here.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Clearly,” he said and then glanced back at the approaching officers.
Gilda flashed Roxy a quick, “I’m not happy with you” glance, then stepped towards Wolfgang and held out her badge.
“Chief Detective Inspector Gilda Maltin,” she told him, “and this is Detective Edward Calhoun.”
“Eddie,” the younger officer said, stepping forward with a beaming smile, while Gilda tried not to roll her eyes. He had a lot of learning to do.
“My, my, look at you,” Wolfgang was saying, ignoring Eddie and devouring Gilda’s sexy black dress with his wet, cold eyes. “You must have the criminals lining up to be frisked by you.”
She gave him a straight, humourless stare. “I only frisk the young, good looking ones, so you’re off the hook.” She smiled serenely. “We’d like to have a word. In private, if you don’t mind.”
Wolfgang laughed at her response and then waved a hand in the air. “That won’t be necessary, Detective. In fact, I think it might help get this stalker off my back. Roxanne can stay. I’d introduce you but I have a hunch you’ve already met.”
Both detectives now stared at Roxy and for a moment it looked as though Gilda was going to push the point, but she didn’t. Instead, she indicated for Calhoun to help her and they dragged another two seats out from under the weeping willow, and sat down in front of Wolfgang. Gilda produced her notepad and he chuckled again.
“Should I have my solicitor present?”
She shrugged. “If you think it’s necessary.”
“Bugger it,” he said, his eyes full of mischief. “Let’s live dangerously, shall we?”
“As you like. We’re following up a few en
quiries regarding the suspicious deaths of Mr Bernard Tiles and Mr Gordon Reilly. Are you familiar with the deceased?”
“You know I am.”
“Have you seen or spoken with either man in the past ten days?”
“No I have not. I last saw Berny about two months before he died. Haven’t seen Gordo in decades.”
“Do you own a white van or have you had access to a white van in the past ten days?”
“There are no white vans in my life, Detective. Not really my style. I do have a very sporty red Alpha Romeo I’m quite fond of, a green Jaguar sedan that’s been causing me a few headaches lately, and a vintage Harley that hasn’t seen the light of day for some time. You can check them for yourself, they’re in the garage.” He coughed. “Now, can we just cut to the chase, please, my time is pretty precious these days, as you’ll appreciate?” Before she had a chance to respond, he said, “You suspect I had something to do with their deaths and I’d like to categorically deny that. As I just told Roxanne here, you’re barking up the wrong tree ... although I think I might have used a garden path metaphor instead.”
“We need to verify your whereabouts and the whereabouts of your wife on the nights of ...” She paused to glance down at her pad.
“Home, sick, both times. It’s been a boring couple of weeks. And my wife was right beside me.”
“And your sons?”
His eyes widened. “My sons?” He chuckled. “Goodness, you really are reaching for straws. My sons are both in Jakarta minding their own business, or, rather, minding my business and not botching it up too badly, I have to say.” He had stopped chuckling and his tone was now stern. “Leave them out of it. They’ve got nothing to do with this.”
Gilda stared at him for a few seconds. “Is there anyone who can verify that you and your wife were here the whole time?”
“You have my word, Detective Maltin.”
She smiled. “I’m sorry to say that won’t quite cut it.”
“Oh what a shame, and I was getting quite fond of you.” He licked his lips. “Then you have my CCTV footage.” It was his turn to smile. “You will have noticed on your way in, I have a pretty sophisticated security system installed at the front gate. There’s also one at a side gate, the only two exits from my property and I’m certainly not capable of scrambling over my high rock walls—although I could have leapt over them in my heyday.” His cheeky glint returned momentarily. “Both cameras record all incoming and outgoing traffic, cars and pedestrians, and will show that I haven’t left my property for weeks. My wife, of course, is another story. She does rather like her shopping, especially when there are shoes involved, but I think , if you speak with my security guys—ask Ginny for the number—they’ll have the digital files and will show you that neither of us left the premises on the occasions in question.”
He was an old pro at this, Roxy realised, and had probably already prepared his answers long before either of them had shown up. He had also left Gilda momentarily speechless, which worried Roxy because Gilda was never speechless, and Calhoun was no help to anyone, so she took this as her opportunity to speak up.
“Who’s to say you didn’t organise the hits? Get someone from outside to do it for you?”
Wolfgang turned to her with a wry smile. “My, my, look who’s been watching too many gangster movies.”
“It’s a valid question,” Gilda said now. “You certainly have the means to pay for a hit man.”
“I did not pay for anyone to ‘hit’ anyone. What you seem to be missing is a motive. Why, pray tell, would I want to kill my old mate, Berny? I mean, sure, Gordo was a bit of a tosser and he won’t be missed, but Berny was a good bloke. I liked him. Either way, I did not harm or order the harm of either man. And I had no reason to.”
“Oh come on, Sir Wolfgang,” Roxy said, getting a little sick of his smarmy banter. “We know all about the bet, back in 1975. And you know we know.”
He shrugged lazily. “So, there was a bet.”
“A bet that you lost to Berny Tiles. A copper mine that now has gold. It belongs to Berny and his family now, and yet—”
“No, in fact, it does not.”
“I have the deed,” Roxy told him, pulling her copy from her bag.
“Ah, it’s shown up at last.” He took it from her and began to read it over while Gilda glared at Roxy.
“Perhaps you can leave it to me to do the questioning,” she told her in a lowered tone and Roxy smiled and mouthed, “Sorry.”
“Jesus H Christ, we were sloshed that night, I can barely read me own bloody writing,” Wolfgang was saying. He handed the paper back to Roxy. “Still, it’s not worth shit.”
“A lawyer might just dispute that,” Gilda said and he shook his head.
“You lovely ladies have no idea. Berny was not interested in the mine. He decided not to claim the bet.”
Roxy scoffed. “As if!” And then, when Gilda glared at her again, shut her lips.
Gilda coughed and said, “I find that hard to believe, Sir Wolfgang. Please explain.”
“It’s very simple, Detective. No great mystery. No great conspiracy.” He waved his fingers in the air. “I learned, about three months ago, that gold deposits had been discovered close to the old Byou copper mine, which we’d had shut down and forgotten about back in ’73.”
“Two years before you handed it to Berny in a poker game?” Roxy said and he glanced at her wearily.
“Yes, well, it was a poker game, you don’t need to get on your high moral horse, Roxanne. Everyone knew I had closed that mine down, including Berny I might add, but he decided to take the gamble. He chose to take the mine instead of the cash and I understand why. Sure, his wife was frickin’ furious, his friends all thought he was a joke, but I got it. I knew what he was doing. Berny just wanted to own a little piece of Indonesia, as simple as that. He adored that country and an old copper mine, however worthless, was a lovely memento. That’s all that mattered to him.”
“Except it wasn’t worthless was it, Sir Wolfgang?” Gilda said. “The mine came good a few months ago.”
“Yes, as I was trying to say, we heard that some local lads had found gold deposits up near Byou, so I got my boys to look into it. They did some exploration work and discovered that the old mine was still viable. We have much more sophisticated equipment now, you understand, and we’re able to penetrate much deeper than we’d gone before. There is a vast deposit, some dozen meters below the surface, below where the copper was found. Bit of a shock to all of us.”
“But you kept that shocking find from Berny, right?”
“I did not,” he said, coughing a little before helping himself to more water. “I called Berny straight away, had him over for dinner and we talked about it. Berny decided he didn’t want the mine.”
“Oh come on,” Roxy said again and he turned to her.
“Ever owned a gold mine, Roxanne?”
She held her head to one side. “What do you think?”
“I think you haven’t got a bloody clue what you’re talking about!” His patience was wearing thin again. “Discovering gold is not as straight forward as you seem to think. You don’t just find gold and suddenly become rich. There was an indication of gold, but it required enormous resources to start digging. Berny doesn’t have those resources or the expertise to do it. I do. And that’s just the start. The politics are enough to send you barking mad. You have to acquire a patent for the mineral, licences need to be lodged with the Indonesian government, and they play hard ball these days, much harder than before. Bribes have to be paid, local staff assembled. You can’t employ expats willy-nilly like the old days. It’s not for the faint hearted.”
“And Berny was faint of heart?” Gilda asked.
“Not an entrepreneurial bone in his body. Just ask his Sondra. She’ll tell you. It was one of the many things she hated about her dad, apparently.”
“What would you know about Sondra?” Roxy said, rising to her client’s defence.
&nb
sp; “I know she didn’t give a shit about Berny when he was alive. Said he barely ever saw her, she never came to the house, always busy with her work. Couldn’t even be bothered to give him a grandson. He was a lonely old bugger.” He waved another hand in the air. “Anyway, that’s a whole other story. Fact is, we found out about the gold deposits and I got Berny over for dinner—I don’t know when, Ginny will have the date. We discussed it in great detail. In the end, after some consideration, he said, and I quote, ‘It was a drunken gamble anyway, and I would never hold you to a drunken gamble, mate.’ End of quote. He loved the idea of owning a piece of Paradise but he didn’t want any of the headaches that the mine would bring. Plus, I don’t think he ever took the bet very seriously. It’s probably the reason he couldn’t even remember where the bloody deed was. He took it as a joke.”
Roxy scoffed aloud. “You can’t honestly expect us to believe all that? That Berny would give up his rights to a lucrative gold mine for absolutely nothing?”
“Of course not! I paid him compensation, if that’s what you mean. I’m sure our sexy detective here has already investigated the $200,000 placed in Berny’s account two months back. That came from me.”
Gilda gave Roxy a quick, rueful nod and said, “But why pay him in cash, Sir Wolfgang? Why be so clandestine about it?”
He shrugged. “Why not?”
“I still don’t believe you,” Roxy persisted and he sighed.
“I don’t give a shit if you believe me or not, Roxanne. Facts are facts and you can check all of this with my wife. If you don’t believe her, try Renata.”
“Renata?”
“Yes, Renata worked for us then, you must know that. That was the night she and Berny ... got together.” He smiled almost wistfully. “It seems love was more important to my old mate than money.” He chuckled. “Wish I could say the same about my first wife.”
“So let me get this straight,” said Gilda, handing her notepad to Eddie and indicating for him to take this down. He fumbled with the pen, managing to drop it while Gilda sighed. He quickly picked it up and she turned back to Wolfgang. “You’re saying, you discovered the old Byou mine was now valuable, you promptly alerted its rightful owner, Bernard Tiles, who told you he didn’t care, he didn’t want it. So what happened then? It reverted back to you? Did he sign anything to that effect? Get legal papers drawn up? Where’s the proof of this rather remarkable story?”