A Royal Murder

by Sandra Winter-Dewhirst

  Rebecca had filed two more stories before the rest of the media turned up. The Advertiser’s photographer, Jo Sharpiro, was now in the thick of a media pack being kept well away from the murder scene. The photographers were forced to use telescopic lenses to take long-range shots. The police had cordoned off the area where the body lay, and it was now screened from sight with blue tarpaulins. Rebecca’s phone-camera photos of the red silk body bag, taken before the police arrived, were given prominence in the Advertiser’s online coverage. No one else would get a shot of the body bag now. She had an exclusive.

  About half an hour had passed and the Royal Adelaide clubhouse had become a makeshift police investigation centre. The lounge was taken over by passengers and golf officials, waiting to be interviewed by the police. Rebecca watched as Gary’s main team, Detectives Kym Lee and Alice White, took down details of all the people waiting in the lounge.

  The boardroom had been turned into the main interview room, and the media were in the bar area. While Rebecca couldn’t see, she could overhear one of the crusty older journalists.

  ‘Come on, luv, give us a beer.’

  She didn’t hear a response. Rebecca sat in the nearby lounge, thinking about the angle she would take for her next piece of copy. She didn’t have to wait long.

  ‘Oh my God. Where is she? I can’t believe it. I need to see her!’

  Rebecca recognised Sol Semler’s New York accent before he came into sight. He was wearing a red polo shirt that was too large for his tiny torso. His matching red-checked bermuda shorts fell to mid-calf, highlighting his skinny alabaster-white legs covered in fine orangutan-orange hair. The overall combination of a red outfit juxtaposed against a bright orange shock of unruly curls protruding afro-like from his head reminded Rebecca of a clown.

  Gary approached Sol.

  ‘And who might you be?’ asked Gary.

  ‘I’m Pixie Browning’s manager, Sol Semler. Tell me it isn’t true—tell me Pixie isn’t dead,’ Sol wailed.

  ‘I’m sorry, Mr Semler. I’m afraid it’s true. We have identified the body as that of Pixie Browning.’ Gary took Sol by the arm and led him to a seat. ‘Please sit down. I’ll need to interview you shortly.’ Looking at a uniformed policeman standing nearby, Gary added, ‘Perhaps this officer could get you a glass of water?’

  Rebecca watched Gary and Detectives Lee and White disappear into the boardroom. She presumed they were getting ready to begin the interviews. As Gary had already interviewed her briefly when they got off the train, she wasn’t expecting to be called in. Rebecca began texting a couple of pars to Reg about Sol Semler and his relationship to Pixie. She knew readers would want to know every piece of background info that she could uncover.

  Detective Alice White appeared next to Rebecca.

  ‘Ms Keith, would you please join us in the interview room?’

  Rebecca looked up, surprised. ‘But Detective Chief Inspector Jarvie has already interviewed me.’

  ‘That was just a preliminary interview to get some immediate details. We need to speak to you again.’

  Rebecca grabbed her things and followed Detective White into the boardroom.

  Gary was sitting at one side of a long honey-coloured table, with Detective Kym Lee to the left of him. Detective Alice White sat down in front of some papers immediately to Gary’s right.

  ‘Please have a seat, Ms Keith,’ said Gary as he gestured to the seat opposite him.

  The room was bland with functional teak-and-leather chairs and a matching teak sideboard. A small plasma television screen was mounted on the wall above the sideboard and a series of modest-sized coloured photographs of the golf course were mounted in matching teak frames dotted around the walls at eye height. The floor was covered in sand-coloured carpet, the walls an uninspiring off-white. While the room was too conservative for Rebecca’s taste, she was impressed at how pristine it was. She sat down.

  ‘Thank you for giving us more of your time, Ms Keith. Before we begin, Detective White will list your rights under the law,’ said Gary formally.

  Detective White knew the caution by heart. ‘You are not obliged to say or do anything unless you wish to do so, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something you later rely on in court. Whatever you say or do may be used in evidence. You have the right to have a lawyer present if you so wish. This interview is being recorded. Do you understand?’

  Gary Examines Rebecca

  Gary

  Gary was thankful that Rebecca was used to hearing the mandatory caution and wouldn’t be spooked by it, like he expected some others to be.

  ‘We have a good description of what happened when the train hit the bag containing the body of Ms Browning, and I thank you for contributing to filling in some of those details, Ms Keith. However, I’d like to ask you a few questions about what you knew of Ms Browning and about what you know of the people who interacted with Ms Browning during the Australian Open,’ said Gary.

  ‘I don’t think I can be much help. I hardly knew Pixie Browning.’

  ‘I understand you were the marshal on the second tee block yesterday when Ms Browning walked off the course upset. Can you tell us what happened?’

  ‘A brown snake spooked her. She demanded to speak to the course director, Philip Hendy. I rang Mr Hendy and told him about the situation. I then handed my phone to Pixie so she could speak with him direct. I couldn’t hear what Hendy was saying but Pixie wasn’t happy. She ended up spitting the dummy, threw my phone on the ground and walked off. When I picked up the phone Hendy told me Pixie was disqualified and instructed me to ensure the other golfers, Sue Barker and Hideko Kita, played on.’

  ‘What was the reaction of Sue Barker and Hideko Kita to this incident?’

  ‘Oh, they were fine. Especially Sue Barker. She’s a real pro. Didn’t faze her at all. Hideko Kita and her caddie were a bit freaked out about the snake but not for long. Neither Sue, Hideko, nor their caddies were too fussed by Pixie walking off. I think they are used to histrionics from Pixie.’

  ‘What about Philip Hendy? How did he react?’

  ‘Professional. Matter-of-fact. I don’t know what he said to Pixie, but whatever it was, it didn’t calm her down. He didn’t seem to hesitate to disqualify her. He told me she disqualified herself by walking off. I’m sure the tournament organisers and sponsors would’ve had something to say. With Pixie out of the tournament, there’d be a lot of very unhappy people. Hendy has a pressured job, and the decision to disqualify Pixie would’ve ramped up that pressure.’

  ‘Did anything else happen on that tee block that you thought was unusual?’

  Rebecca shifted in her seat. ‘Actually, there was something a bit disconcerting. There was this guy who was acting funny toward Pixie. A fan.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘Pixie knew him. She called him Bruce. She didn’t look happy to see him. When he tried to get close to her, I told him to step back. I thought he was too enthusiastic in clapping and whooping when Pixie hit her drive. He really stood out. He said he travelled to all of Pixie’s tournaments. He was way too emotional when Pixie walked off.’

  ‘What did he look like?’

  ‘In his early fifties. Overweight. Sweaty. He wore an awful mouse-brown toupee. There was something odd about him, and he made me uncomfortable.’

  Gary turned to Detective White. ‘We need to find this guy. Also organise for me to speak to both Sue Barker and Hideko Kita sometime this afternoon at police headquarters.’

  Turning back to Rebecca, Gary asked, ‘Is there anything else you think pertinent to the case, Ms Keith?’

  Rebecca hesitated slightly before saying, ‘Pixie wasn’t well liked by the other women golfers, but there was one golfer who I’ve been told hated her.’

  ‘Who’s that?’

  ‘Matilda Lambert. She’s from Melbourne. Quite a volatile person from what I can make out. I played with her in the pro-am, and she went ballistic about Pixie when I mentioned I saw her
on TV. Matilda had a rant about Pixie using her sex appeal to make money. She left me in no doubt that she hated the fact that Pixie posed nude for the Christmas edition of Sports Frenzy. She went on about how much money Pixie was making from her clothing label and said that Pixie was only concerned about the “almighty dollar”. She said Pixie “didn’t give a shit” about the golf.’

  Rebecca paused, because she wanted to add something that was more about how she felt about Matilda than what Matilda said, but wasn’t quite sure of her ground.

  ‘Matilda’s behaviour struck me as a bit strange. I don’t think she is all that well. Her response to Pixie bordered on the obsessive. It made me sad.’

  Turning to Detective White, Gary said, ‘Make sure Matilda Lambert is on the interview list. I want to speak to her as soon as possible.’

  Fishing for Sol

  Sol Semler sat across from Gary and the detectives. He fidgeted with a gold ring on his finger and was constantly shifting in his seat.

  ‘How long have you been Ms Browning’s manager, Mr Semler?’ asked Gary.

  ‘Three years next month.’

  ‘Did you have a good relationship with Ms Browning?’

  ‘She was like a daughter to me. She was my princess. I did everything for her. There was nothing I wouldn’t do for her,’ said Sol, before he buried his head in his hands and moaned, ‘Oh, dear Adonai!’

  Detective Alice White kept a poker face while she leant over toward Gary and whispered, ‘Who’s Adonai?’

  Before Gary could reply, Detective Kym Lee leant into the two of them and whispered back, ‘It’s Jewish for Lord.’

  Sol looked up. ‘Who could have done this? Who?’

  ‘That’s what we’re hoping to find out, Mr Semler. Do you know of anyone who would want to harm Ms Browning? Did she have any enemies?’

  ‘Pixie was an angel. Everyone loved her. There’s not a soul who would have wanted to harm a hair on her head.’

  ‘Well, that obviously isn’t correct, is it, Mr Semler? Someone did harm Ms Browning,’ said Gary. He paused before continuing, ‘What about Matilda Lambert? I’ve heard she didn’t exactly love Ms Browning.’

  ‘Matilda Lambert is an unhappy woman. She was seriously jealous of Pixie. And while I grant you she is a bit different, I can’t see her killing anyone.’

  ‘What did they argue about?’

  ‘The last blow-up that Pixie told me about was in the locker room at the New Zealand Open, when Matilda got stuck into Pixie about posing nude for Sports Frenzy. I told Pixie to just ignore her. I said Matilda was an unhappy woman and didn’t want happiness for others. But Pixie has—had—a beautiful body and should show it off. Her body is—was—a gift.’

  ‘So did Matilda Lambert say or do anything else following that blow-up at the New Zealand Open?’

  ‘No. She just continued to be her grumpy self. But Pixie didn’t tell me of any other recent fights.’

  ‘What about this fan who travels the world to watch Ms Browning? I understand his first name is Bruce. I was told he was on the second tee yesterday when Pixie walked off the course and was disqualified.’

  ‘That would have been Bruce Wells. Pixie told me he turned up. As my dear mother would say, “If he was twice as smart, he’d be an idiot”. Bruce was becoming a nuisance and Pixie wanted me to do something about him, so I got the Florida cops to look into him when Pixie was playing a tournament in Miami last year. They told me he’s from the Gold Coast in Queensland. His father was in real estate and Bruce has inherited a modest fortune. That’s where he gets the cash to follow Pixie around the world.

  ‘What did the police do about Bruce?’

  ‘Not much. They had a word to him but they told us they didn’t have any evidence to do anything more. They thought he was probably just a passionate fan. I tended to agree. Bruce is a bit creepy, but I think he’s harmless. Although the underwear thing was a bit much.’

  Gary raised his eyebrows. ‘The underwear thing?’

  ‘Yeah. In the past few months, Pixie started to receive parcels of risqué underwear delivered to her hotel rooms. Red silk thongs and crotch-less panties, that sort of thing. I told her to just put them in the trashcan and ignore them,’ said Sol.

  ‘How do you know the underwear was being sent by Bruce?’

  ‘I asked him. Bruce can’t lie. Admitted it straight out. As I said, an idiot.’

  ‘So what did you say to him?’

  ‘I told him to stop sending the underwear.’

  ‘And did it stop?’

  ‘Yeah. Pixie said it stopped.’

  Gary made a few notes before continuing.

  ‘And what about Ms Browning being disqualified yesterday? How did she respond to that?’

  ‘She was okay. Once she calmed down. She did instruct me to take legal action against Philip Hendy and Golf Australia about not providing a safe workplace and making sure she got her appearance money.’

  ‘When did you last see Ms Browning alive?’

  Sol hung his head and wiped away tears with a tissue he grabbed from the box on the table. He eventually answered, ‘I dropped her at the beach house she was renting at Semaphore just after midnight.’

  ‘Did you escort her into the house? Was she staying there alone?’

  ‘No, I just dropped her at the sidewalk. But I waited until she unlocked the door and went inside. And yes, she was staying there alone.’

  ‘And where are you staying, Mr Semler?’

  ‘I’m staying at the Grand Hotel at Glenelg.’

  ‘And what time did you arrive at the Grand Hotel last night?’

  ‘About quarter past midnight. At that time of night, it’s only about a ten-minute drive from Semaphore.’

  Gary reached across the table to give Sol his card and said, ‘Please call me if you think of anything you believe we should be aware of that would assist us in our investigations. Detective Lee will now escort you next door to forensics. We will need to take DNA samples and scan your fingerprints. Thank you for your time today, Mr Semler.’

  ‘You don’t suspect I killed Pixie!’ screeched Sol.

  ‘I can’t rule out anyone at this stage of the investigation, Mr Semler. But forensics can rule you out as well as in. The testing is helpful to us either way.’

  Gary gestured to Detective Lee with a nod of his head.

  Big Nose

  Philip Hendy sat at the table across from Gary and the two detectives. Gary took in Hendy’s appearance. He was a tall man, Gary estimated about 198 centimetres. He was in his mid-fifties, his thinning brown hair streaked with grey. Gary doubted he had ever seen a bigger nose.

  ‘Thank you for your time, Mr Hendy. When did you last see Ms Browning?’

  ‘Last night at Penfolds. She wasn’t in the best of moods after the events of yesterday. I said hello to her, but the only greeting I received was that her lawyers would be in touch.’

  ‘What happened yesterday, Mr Hendy?’

  ‘Well, you know I had to disqualify Pixie. It’s been in all the media. I’m sure you’ve read or heard about it.’

  ‘Yes, I know that you disqualified Ms Browning yesterday, but if you could take me through the incident from your perspective.’

  ‘Pixie was unprofessional. She refused to play on when I instructed her to do so. You can’t muck about in these situations. She was holding up play, so I gave her a warning. When she refused again, I disqualified her. I have the power to do so. I made a call. That’s my job.’

  ‘What were the ramifications of Pixie Browning being disqualified from the tournament?’

  ‘Well, we got a lot of media coverage. Although not as much as we are getting now.’

  Hendy turned his head toward the window overlooking the eighteenth green where a large media contingent had gathered. His nose was even more spectacular in profile.

  He continued, ‘Of course, sponsors weren’t happy, and I had to do a lot of explaining to Golf Australia. But at the end of the day, everyone understood I h
ad no choice. I made the only call I could.’

  ‘Obviously Pixie Browning didn’t see it that way. You say she said she was calling in the lawyers?’

  ‘That was just bravado. Neither she nor that insipid manager of hers has a legal leg to stand on. And if you ask me, she was glad for the publicity. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was a stunt.’

  ‘Are you saying Ms Browning wanted you to disqualify her?’

  ‘Well, I’m not saying she deliberately concocted the situation—after all, how can you make a brown snake appear on cue? But I do think it was probably a case of her temper getting out of control and then a spontaneous decision that walking off the course would get her headlines.’

  ‘Was last night at Penfolds the last time you saw her alive?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Do you know anyone who may have wanted to harm Ms Browning? Anyone she was in conflict with?’

  ‘Perhaps the question should be, who wasn’t she in conflict with? She was a volatile, egotistical, spoilt woman. Some hated her; others had little time for her. She could play golf, but she was never going to be number one. Her motivation wasn’t to be the best she could be on the golf course. Her motivation was to make as much money out of golf as she could. She didn’t need to be number one for that. A lot of the serious women golfers resented her for it.’

  ‘Anyone in particular?’ prompted Gary.

  ‘World number one, Mee Po, for one. Mee resented the fact that Pixie made more money than she did, despite Mee being the best woman golfer in the world. Matilda Lambert is another. But whereas Mee is quite reserved about her dislike of Pixie, Matilda is openly hostile. Actually Matilda is a bit scary.’

  ‘How do you mean “scary”?’ asked Gary, glancing at Detective White’s tablet as she typed in Mee Po just below Matilda Lambert on the interview list.

  ‘Well, she goes into rages. For instance, after the pro-am on Thursday, Matilda bailed Pixie up in the locker room and went berserk. One of the other golfers alerted officials, and I had to be called in to defuse the situation.’