The Fourth String

by Jill Paterson

  The two officers left The Claremont and returned to the station, arriving amid a flurry of activity orchestrated by the duty sergeant. ‘What’s going on?’ asked Fitzjohn.

  ‘It’s Chief Superintendent Grieg’s furniture, sir. It’s being brought out of storage and returned to his office.’

  ‘And Chief Superintendent Ashby?’ asked Fitzjohn as his brow furrowed.

  ‘She’s preparing to return to the Central Coast, sir.’

  ****

  Hearing this and with a sense of urgency, Fitzjohn made his way along the corridor to Peta Ashby’s office where he found her emptying the drawers of her desk into a cardboard box. She looked up and stopped what she was doing when she noticed him standing in the doorway.

  ‘I take it you’ve had confirmation that Chief Superintendent Grieg is to return, ma’am,’ said Fitzjohn.

  ‘Yes, I have. He’s due to return to duty on Thursday. I’m just making sure he finds his office the way he left it. Minus the dust,’ she added as she closed the lid on the box she had been packing. ‘I want to thank you, Fitzjohn, for returning from leave to take on the Fairchild case and also for your understanding the other day after I was confronted with Grieg. It helped even though it now seems I overreacted.’

  ‘You didn’t overreact, ma’am. He’s capable of carrying out his threats, and as much as I hate to see you leave, in all honesty, you’re best out of his way.’

  ‘I believe you’re right. I’m no match for what he deals out, Fitzjohn. But it’s not a good situation for you to have to work in either. Have you ever thought of putting in for a transfer?’

  ‘No, ma’am. My home is here and besides, the city is my patch.’

  ‘In that case, have you any news on the case before I depart?’ asked Peta as she gestured to a chair before she sat down behind her desk.

  ‘Yes. There are a number of things, as it happens.’ On sitting, Fitzjohn recounted his interview with Bonato and explained Crispin Fairchild’s involvement with the cartel, albeit against his will.’

  ‘So, Bonato admits to blackmailing his brother-in-law over the child whom he ran down. And I can see why you don’t believe he’s the killer. He was worth more alive to him than dead.’ Peta smiled. ‘I wish I could be here till it’s solved. I really do.’

  ‘When will you be leaving, ma’am?’ asked Fitzjohn.

  ‘Tomorrow. I want to be gone before Chief Superintendent Grieg arrives back on Thursday morning.’ An awkward silence ensued before Peta said, ‘Well, I’d better get on with this packing, hadn’t I?’

  ‘I’ll see you before you leave, ma’am.’

  ****

  Fitzjohn left Peta Ashby’s office, his thoughts concerning her departure almost at once interrupted by the duty sergeant.

  ‘Mrs Fairchild arrived to see you a few minutes ago, sir. She’s waiting for you at the front desk.’

  ‘Thank you, Sergeant.’

  ‘I should warn you, sir, she’s not best pleased.’

  With his mind back on the case, Fitzjohn opened the door into the lobby to find Francesca Fairchild, her elegant presence exuding an air of utmost confidence.

  ‘Sorry to keep you, Mrs Fairchild,’ he said, sensing the woman’s impatience.

  ‘Chief Inspector, what’s going on? Your sergeant has told me I must cancel my auction and yet refused to tell me why. Do you realise the inconvenience you’ve caused me?’

  ‘My apologies, Mrs Fairchild,’ replied Fitzjohn. ‘Sergeant Betts was only following instructions. In a murder investigation we’re often constrained as to what information we’re able to release until such time that it doesn’t compromise our case.’

  ‘Well, in my case, I demand to know now because it’s caused a great deal of trouble, not only for me but also for the auction house, not to mention the cancellation fee I’ve been charged.’

  ‘Very well. If you’ll come through to my office, I’ll explain the situation,’ said Fitzjohn, reluctant to discuss the matter in a public space.

  ‘Well?’ asked Francesca, smoothing her skirt as she sat down in a chair in front of Fitzjohn’s desk and crossed her long legs. ‘What is the reason?’

  ‘The fact of the matter is, Mrs Fairchild, our investigation has revealed that the items you found in your husband’s apartment are all illegal imports. In other words smuggled goods.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Your husband’s apartment was used as a storage facility after their arrival in Australia and until they were shipped on to other parts of the world.’

  ‘This simply is not true,’ screamed Francesca. ‘Crispin was a lot of things but he was not a criminal, Chief Inspector.’

  ‘But your brother is, Mrs Fairchild.’ Fitzjohn recounted his interview with Antonio Bonato.

  ‘You’re saying that Antonio blackmailed Crispin over the death of a child!’ Francesca collapsed back in her chair as she realised the full force of what Fitzjohn had told her.

  ‘I know what a shock this must be for you, Mrs Fairchild, and I am sorry.’

  ‘It’s true that he and Antonio returned to Italy early from that tour. At the time, Crispin told me he’d become ill and couldn’t carry on. I never questioned my brother about the reason. Why would I?’ Francesca gave a long sigh. ‘I suppose it will all come out in the press eventually and Crispin’s name will be dragged through the mud. Even so, his actions are unforgivable. The child lost his life.’ A long silence followed before Francesca said, ‘I must make reparation to the family, Chief Inspector. It won’t bring their son back but I have to do something. Do you have any idea who they are?’

  Fitzjohn thought of Pearl Ambrose and the complexity of the situation. ‘I’ll see what I can do, Mrs Fairchild.’

  ‘Thank you. What will happen to my brother?’

  ‘He’ll be extradited back to Italy.’

  ‘So you are not charging him with Crispin’s murder,’ said Francesca.

  ‘No, Mrs Fairchild, we aren’t.’

  ‘Thank god for that. I doubt I could bear it. There is one problem that remains, however, and that concerns the items which were to be auctioned. One of the pieces has already been sold. The buyer offered well above the reserve price so I let it go.’ Francesca gave a shrug.

  ‘I see. Well, in that case, we’ll need the name and contact details of that buyer, Mrs Fairchild, so that the item can be returned. Is it an overseas bidder?’

  ‘No. It’s a person who lives at The Claremont. I believe his name is Hector Lombard.’

  CHAPTER 20

  The two officers arrived at The Claremont in the fading afternoon light and made their way up the steps to the front entrance. Fitzjohn pressed the button on the new brass plate where Hector Lombard’s name was displayed. Moments later, Hector’s soft voice could be heard.

  ‘Hello.’

  ‘Good afternoon, Mr Lombard, it’s DCI Fitzjohn and DS Betts. We’d like to speak to you if we may.’ As Fitzjohn spoke the door released and the two men made their way inside and along the hallway to Lombard’s apartment. As they did so, the door opened and Hector appeared.

  ‘You have more questions, Chief Inspector?’ asked Lombard.

  ‘No, Mr Lombard, but we do need to speak to you about a matter that’s come to light,’ replied Fitzjohn. ‘May we come in?’

  ‘Of course. Come through.’ Lombard led the way into the living room where he gestured to a tufted leather sofa. ‘How can I help?’ he asked with a smile as they sat down.

  ‘We understand you recently purchased an antique vase,’ said Fitzjohn.

  ‘That’s right, I did,’ replied Lombard somewhat mystified.

  ‘Can I ask how you came by it?’

  ‘It was the other day in the foyer. As a matter of fact it was the same day I saw you and Sergeant Betts, if you remember. When I came through the front door an auctioneer I’m well acquainted with came out of the elevator and we got talking. She was with another woman who introduced herself as Crispin’s wife. I was really surprised about that b
ecause I had no idea he’d been married. He never spoke of her but, be that as it may, she said that she would be holding an auction in his apartment this coming Saturday. Of course, I expressed an interest immediately in the china vases and that was when she offered to let me purchase one of the vases pre-auction. Why do you ask, Chief Inspector?’

  ‘Because a problem has arisen, Mr Lombard. The auction has been cancelled and any items which have been pre-sold, such as your vase for instance, have to be returned.’

  ‘Oh. You mean I’m forced to give it up? After all, I did purchase it in good faith and I do have a receipt.’

  ‘I’m afraid you do,’ replied Fitzjohn. ‘You will, of course, be reimbursed by Mrs Fairchild.’

  ‘Well, thank heaven for small mercies but all the same, this is most irregular. What happened? Is it something to do with Crispin’s estate?’

  ‘All I’m at liberty to say is that unbeknown to Mrs Fairchild, the items listed for auction were not hers to sell.’

  ‘So, do I give the vase to you, Chief Inspector, or Mrs Fairchild?’ asked Lombard.

  ‘To make things simpler, we’ll take possession of it now,’ replied Fitzjohn, sensing Lombard’s growing anxiety.

  ‘Right, well, in that case, I’d better get it for you,’ said Lombard as he got up from his chair with a sigh and walked over to one of several china cabinets.

  ‘You have a wonderful collection of vases, Mr Lombard,’ said Fitzjohn as he followed and looked in through the glass. ‘I can see why you wanted to add to it.’

  ‘I’m always on the lookout for new pieces. I’m fortunate as a collector to be in my line of work as it gives me the opportunity to come across many things.’ Lombard removed the vase from the shelf, and after finding a box to put it in, longingly, handed it to Fitzjohn. ‘Alas, this purchase wasn’t meant to be,’ he added with a shrug.

  ****

  Fitzjohn and Betts emerged into a blustery dark evening and made their way to the car. ‘We’ll add the vase to all the other items we’ve gathered from the victim’s apartment, Betts, and provide Interpol with a list of everything that’s been retrieved,’ said Fitzjohn as he settled himself into the passenger seat of the car, cradling the box on his lap. ‘And drive with care; we want it to get to the station in one piece.’

  ‘What about Pearl Ambrose, sir? Have you decided when we’re going to charge her with Crispin Fairchild’s murder?’

  ‘I realise it must seem like I’m delaying the inevitable, Betts, and to be honest, I am. It’ll be the worst arrest I’ve ever had to make and I don’t have the stomach for it tonight. We’ll bring her in first thing in the morning.’

  ‘Yes sir.’

  ****

  ‘Will there be anything else tonight?’ asked Betts as the two men entered the station and Fitzjohn handed him the box containing the vase.

  ‘No. I’m just going to say goodbye to Chief Superintendent Ashby and then I’ll be off home.’ As Betts left, Fitzjohn paused to straighten his suit coat and made his way to Peta Ashby’s office doorway. When he reached it, however, he found the room empty.

  ‘She left twenty minutes ago, sir.’ Fitzjohn turned to see the duty sergeant. ‘She needed to catch the last train to the Central Coast and asked me to apologise for not waiting to say goodbye.’

  ‘Thank you, Sergeant.’ Fitzjohn turned, and with a heavy heart, retreated to his office where he collected his briefcase, turned out the light and left.

  ****

  Not since Edith’s death had he felt so empty as he sat in the backseat of the cab and half listened to the driver’s views about the growing congestion on the roads as they wended their way through the city streets towards Birchgrove. Eventually, when they pulled up in front of his cottage, he saw a welcoming light in the front window and had to admit that he was glad that his sister had come to stay. Once inside, he placed his briefcase on the hall table and shrugged out of his overcoat. As he did, Meg appeared in the kitchen doorway at the end of the hall.

  ‘You’re earlier than usual, Alistair. Have you solved your case?’

  ‘Not quite,’ replied Fitzjohn, throwing his overcoat over the bannister.

  ‘You look very pale. Are you unwell?’

  ‘I’m fine, Meg, just a little tired, that’s all. It’s been a long day. I’ll just go upstairs and change. I’ll be down in a minute.’ With that, Fitzjohn disappeared up the staircase to his bedroom, closed the door behind him and sat down heavily in the armchair beside the window. With a myriad of thoughts running through his mind, not the least of which was his disappointment at not being able to say goodbye to Peta Ashby before she left, there was something else about the Crispin Fairchild case which niggled at him, but what was it? Something doesn’t fit, he thought as he untied his shoelaces. For a moment he sat back and tried to think what it could be but when nothing came to mind, he changed and went back downstairs to the kitchen where Meg was preparing dinner.

  ‘Dinner won’t be ready for a while yet, Alistair,’ she said.

  ‘That’s fine. I’ll pour us both a glass of whisky and we can have that talk you wanted about Sophie.’

  ‘Oh, that. There’s no need now. I’ve agreed to go along with Sophie’s wishes concerning her graduation.’

  ‘Really,’ said Fitzjohn more than a little surprised. Could it be that Meg had finally come to the realisation that forcing her own opinions and wishes onto Sophie would only alienate her? ‘And what are her wishes?’ asked Fitzjohn.

  ‘That the three of us go out for lunch to celebrate.’

  ‘Well, that sounds wonderful. I’ll put it in my diary,’ said Fitzjohn. ‘Are you terribly disappointed? I mean, organising a celebration for her graduation was the reason you came to Sydney.’

  ‘It was but I’m happy for something low key if that’s what Sophie wants. What I’m not happy about, though, is that I’ve hardly seen her while I’ve been here. I would have thought she’d have come over in the evenings more often.’

  ‘Well, she has her studies and her job. She doesn’t have a lot of free time,’ said Fitzjohn, handing Meg a glass of whisky and soda as they walked into the conservatory and sat down.

  ‘I suppose you’re right.’ Meg took a sip and thought for a moment. ‘What are you going to do about Rhonda Butler?’ she asked at last.

  ‘I’ll speak to her again, but not tonight. I’ll leave that task until morning.’

  ****

  Fitzjohn woke at dawn the next morning and went into the greenhouse, not only to tend his orchids but also to decide how to approach Rhonda about the boundary problem. Would a conciliatory approach be best? he asked himself. No, that wouldn’t work. Not with Rhonda. She’s too confrontational. It’ll have to be something that will cause her concern, if that’s possible. Something that will make her think twice before she drags this out into a long protracted legal battle without any thought to the fact that it could see her lose not only the case but a good portion of her house.

  ****

  With his decision to throw caution to the wind, Fitzjohn picked his way through Rhonda Butler’s garden being careful to sidestep the remaining mud. As he did, he was thrown somewhat off balance when the front door flew open and Rhonda emerged.

  ‘What do you want?’ she bellowed.

  ‘And a good morning to you too, Mrs Butler,’ he replied. ‘I’m here to let you know that I’ve spoken to the powers that be in regards to the redirection of the boundary between our two properties. The work will commence at the beginning of next week. I felt it only fair to give you plenty of notice so that you can make arrangements for accommodation while the work is taking place. After all, the west wall of your house will be demolished.’

  ‘How dare you threaten me. I’ll report you to the police.’

  ‘As I’ve told you on previous occasions, Mrs Butler, I am the police. Now, if you decide that you want to leave things as they are, I’m willing to cancel the operation altogether and we can go along as we have done for the past twenty-two yea
rs, but you’ll have to let me know by four o’clock this afternoon.’ Fitzjohn shoved his card into Rhonda’s hand. ‘After that, I won’t be able to stop its commencement.’ Rhonda spluttered. ‘Need more time, do you? Or have I rendered you speechless,’ asked Fitzjohn. ‘Mmm. I see I have.’

  With that, Fitzjohn retreated back to his cottage where he found Meg with a duster in hand, loitering on the front porch. ‘I didn’t know you’d made arrangements for the boundary fence to be moved,’ she said as Fitzjohn ushered her back inside.

  ‘I haven’t, but it’s important Rhonda thinks I have,’ said Fitzjohn, shrugging into his overcoat and picking up his briefcase. ‘It’s the only way I could think of to get her to give up this ridiculous venture.’

  ‘What if she doesn’t call you by four o’clock?’

  ‘I’ll worry about that if it happens.’ As Fitzjohn spoke, a car horn sounded. ‘That’ll be Betts. I’ve got to go. We’ve got a difficult task ahead of us this morning,’ he said as his thoughts went to Pearl Ambrose’s arrest.

  ‘Well, I do hope you get that call from Mrs Butler before four o’clock,’ said Meg as she lifted up a vase on the hall table and dusted underneath it.

  Fitzjohn stared at the vase. ‘That vase used to be one of a pair.’

  ‘I know. I gave them to you and Edith for a wedding present, remember? Edith told me the other got broken when you moved to Australia.’

  ‘That’s right. It did,’ replied Fitzjohn as the sense of uncertainty he had felt throughout the night cleared.

  ‘What is it, Alistair?’

  Fitzjohn opened the front door. ‘I’ll see you tonight, Meg, and thank you.’

  ‘For what?’

  CHAPTER 21

  ‘Morning, sir,’ said Betts as Fitzjohn settled himself into the passenger seat. ‘Do you want to go straight to The Claremont to make the arrest?’