A Royal Murder

by Sandra Winter-Dewhirst

  Gary wondered why Sol Semler didn’t mention this altercation between Matilda and Pixie. Indeed, Sol’s story about Pixie being loved by everyone didn’t hold water either. Sol was now firmly in the unreliable witness box.

  ‘What was Matilda angry about?’

  ‘Oh, the usual. When I walked in, she was calling Pixie a slut and going on about her posing nude for magazines. I’ve heard she’s had a crack at her about it before. Matilda can be like a dog with a bone. She had Pixie pushed up against one of the lockers. Matilda’s face was puce, and she was literally spitting her words out at Pixie. The only way I could make her stop was to threaten to call the police.’

  ‘Perhaps you should have. It could have escalated to something far worse—and indeed may have,’ cautioned Gary.

  Philip Hendy shrugged his shoulders. ‘Golf isn’t any different than other professional sports. There’re winners and losers, and with that goes the same roller-coaster of emotions and tensions. In fact, I believe golfers are even more volatile off the course than other athletes because they have to keep their temperament in check on the course, so their swing doesn’t tense up. They often blow up after the day’s play to release the tension. Anyway, Pixie was the one who begged me not to call the police.’

  Gary frowned. ‘Really. Did she give a reason?’

  ‘No. But she was distraught after I threatened to call them. I think she was more upset at the thought of me calling the police than she was at Matilda abusing her. In fact, Pixie became so distraught that Matilda became the calmer of the two. They flipped roles. Matilda went from being apoplectic with rage to attempting to console Pixie. It was bizarre behaviour. That’s why I say Matilda is scary. She is unpredictable.’

  ‘It sounds like Pixie was also unpredictable.’ Gary handed Philip Hendy his card. ‘Contact me if you have any other information. Please accompany Detective Lee for forensic testing.’

  Philip Hendy didn’t object.

  Office Politics

  Rebecca

  Rebecca walked out of the lift onto the Advertiser’s editorial floor. It appeared to her that everyone looked up from their desks at the same time. She knew she was the centre of attention. Reg Cooper’s head popped up from over his desk partition.

  ‘Here she is, the Murder Queen of Adelaide! If there’s a grisly murder, she’s there right among it,’ crowed Reg.

  ‘Don’t be so bloody crass,’ bellowed Rebecca as she strode down the centre corridor of the open-plan office. She stopped at Reg’s bunker, sat down on a bright-green vinyl ottoman and threw her bag onto the floor next to a filing cabinet. She noticed yet another piece of paperwork had been stuck up on Reg’s partition, above his computer. It was a colour poster of Bob Dylan’s album cover, Blood on the Tracks.

  Rebecca shook her head, silently amused.

  ‘What?’ asked Reg indignantly. She knew he saw her look at the poster.

  Rebecca decided not to humour him. ‘So, how’s the story going? How many hits are we getting?’

  ‘Oh, it’s gone berserk. It’s the highest trending story in Australia and is being picked up nationally and internationally, especially in the United States. I’ve even had a call from some ESPN guy who just happens to be here in Adelaide. He’s booked time at one of the TV studios. He wants to produce his own interviews, and he wants to interview you. Asked me to pass on the message. I have his number somewhere here,’ said Reg as he sifted through a pile of papers on his desk.

  ‘Walter Mildren, by any chance?’

  ‘Yeah, how did you know?’ asked Reg as he passed a rumpled note to Rebecca with Walter’s phone number scrawled on it.

  ‘Oh, I met him last night at a media golfing dinner at Penfolds. I introduced Sue Barker to him as—’

  Reg interrupted her. ‘I thought you weren’t part of the media contingent yesterday? Wouldn’t file for me but you were happy to turn up for drinks at a media function. Typical. Anyway, that Walter guy said Sue Barker is anchoring the interviews.’

  ‘Really? That’s great. Sue is retiring from professional golf soon and wants to get into the media. That’s why I introduced her to a few contacts last night. This ESPN guy was interested. I bet she didn’t expect to get a gig this quickly.’

  Rebecca looked at Walter Mildren’s phone number. ‘Shall I do the interview?’

  ‘Why not? The more publicity the better. Just don’t forget to plug the hell out of the Advertiser and your own exclusives.’

  ‘So I guess I’m back from holidays, then?’

  ‘Bloody oath! And you know it. Keep your underlings on Taste. You’re back on the crime beat.’

  Just then the Advertiser’s police reporter, Dave Mendelson, walked past, pretending to ignore Rebecca and Reg. Rebecca knew Reg wouldn’t be able to help himself.

  ‘G’day, Cool Dave,’ said Reg. ‘Breaking any big yarns?’

  ‘Don’t be an arsehole,’ snapped Dave. ‘Keith would have to be the luckiest journo on the planet. Talk about right place at the right time. But you still want me to do the hard yards and get something interesting from the police reports, while Keith swans around getting the glory. You need me to do the grunt work on your Blood on the Tracks yarn, and you know it.’

  ‘Oh bullshit, Cool Dave. It’s what you do with the luck that matters. And you’re so bloody lazy you miss opportunities that stare you in the face! As for this yarn, I could get you pulled off if needs be, just like I pulled you off the Popeye Murder,’ retaliated Reg.

  ‘Okay, okay,’ said Rebecca. ‘Stop this right now.’

  She turned to look Reg in the eye.

  ‘Reg, you should know better.’

  She then glared at Dave.

  ‘As for you, Dave, just piss off.’

  Dave stormed off to the stifled laughter of colleagues lurking behind computer screens.

  Reg smirked. ‘So, what’s your next angle?’

  ‘I’ve just heard forensics is saying Pixie was not only dead but dismembered before the train hit her. Her arms and legs had been cut off with a sharp instrument.’

  ‘I wanted that story five minutes ago.’

  ‘I’m on it, Reg. I’ll have it to you within the next half hour. I’m also intrigued as to why Pixie was put into a red silk bag with what I think is Chinese lettering on one side. I took a photo of the characters before the cops arrived, and I want to get them translated. I’m not sure if it will have any significance, but I need to investigate it.’

  ‘Okay. And after you finish the story on Pixie being chopped up, and look into those Chinese characters, write a colour piece. Hopefully you’ll have plenty of material after you talk to other golfers and her manager, that Sol guy.’

  ‘It might take me a couple of days to have the full colour piece done, but I can feed through short pieces for online and pull the bigger piece together for Monday’s edition,’ said Rebecca.

  ‘Good. I’ll get some bloody boring police angles from Cool Dave as a bit of filler. I’ll enjoy ordering him about. And let me know how you go with translating those characters. You’re on that this afternoon, right?’

  ‘Yes, Reg. I know how to do my job,’ Rebecca said with an irritated edge to her voice. ‘I’ll shoot over to Chinatown this afternoon. If these characters are Chinese my mate Chin Wang might be able to help.’

  Police HQ

  Gary

  The formal interview room was on the first floor of Angas Street Police Headquarters. Detective Chief Inspector Gary Jarvie looked down his list. He knew it was going to be a long afternoon, off the back of a long morning.

  Accompanied by Detective Alice White, Sue Barker entered the room.

  Gary shook Sue’s hand before gesturing for her to take a seat opposite him.

  ‘Thank you for your time, Ms Barker.’ He pointed toward Kym Lee, already seated in the chair next to him. ‘This is Detective Lee, and you’ve already met Detective White.’

  Sue Barker smiled, pulled out a chair opposite, and sat down. She appeared relaxed.

&
nbsp; ‘Now, Ms Barker, what can you tell me about Pixie Browning?’

  ‘Probably quite a bit. I’ve known her for over ten years. What sort of information would you like to know?’

  ‘Did she get on with people?’

  ‘She got on with some people, not others. It depended.’

  ‘What did it depend on, Ms Barker?’

  ‘Whether or not you were useful to her. She still didn’t know the names of some of the women golfers, even though she had played with them for years. If you weren’t important to Pixie, she didn’t bother to remember your name. She was a good businesswoman, though. People who could help her in her business were always treated well. She always remembered their names.’

  ‘What sort of business was Ms Browning involved in?’

  ‘She had a women’s golf clothing label, and I’ve heard she could command 10,000 US dollars an appearance at some speaking engagements. She also received a lot of money for posing in various magazines, in various states of dress or undress,’ said Sue, emphasising the word undress.

  ‘Did she have any enemies?’

  ‘Most of the women golfers disliked Pixie. But they just gave her the same treatment as she gave them. They ignored her. Although, if any player could be put into the category of enemy, it would be Matilda Lambert. Matilda was always complaining about Pixie, both behind her back and to her face—or in her face, more like. When Matilda gets wound up, she’s scary, and she would often give Pixie a blast.’

  ‘Did she ever threaten to harm Ms Browning?’

  ‘No. It was more just name-calling and profanity. I never heard her threaten violence.’

  ‘Do you think Matilda Lambert is capable of killing?’

  ‘Not sure. If she was in one of her moods, maybe. Who knows?’

  ‘When did you last see Ms Browning?’

  ‘Last night at the Penfolds event. She was mingling with the media. I wasn’t important enough to speak to. Besides, I was with Rebecca Keith, and Rebecca was not in Pixie’s good books. I’m not sure why, Rebecca was only a marshal and just an innocent witness to Pixie being disqualified. But that’s Pixie. An ego out of control.’

  ‘Did you see Ms Browning leave with anyone?’

  ‘No. We left before she did. She looked like she was tying one on. I could hear her getting louder during the evening. I don’t drink alcohol at these events when I’m playing golf in the morning. Pixie wasn’t under the same constraints.’

  ‘Who was she with at this party?’

  ‘I wasn’t watching her closely. At one point I saw her with her manager, Sol Semler. But he seemed to be given short shrift. She appeared to be schmoozing with media types. I’m not sure who.’

  ‘And what about your movements last night, after you left the party?’

  Sue looked surprised at the question.

  ‘Well, I went straight back to my hotel, of course. Rebecca dropped me off.’

  ‘And what hotel would that be, Ms Barker?’

  ‘The Hilton Hotel in Victoria Square. Most of the players are staying either at the Hilton in town or the Grand at Glenelg,’ said Sue. After a short pause, she added, ‘Not Pixie, though. She had a beach house somewhere near the golf course.’

  Sue looked at Gary, and for the first time in the interview, Gary sensed Sue was unsettled about something.

  ‘Is there anything else you think we should know, Ms Barker?’ added Gary, leaving his question open. He was often amazed at what information he received when he decided to throw in an open-ended question when the interviewee showed signs of nervousness.

  Sue didn’t answer at first. She moved in her seat, shifting her weight. She cleared her throat before speaking.

  ‘I think there was something wrong between Pixie and her manager, Sol Semler.’

  Gary waited for more information and didn’t speak. It was another one of his tactics. Silence was often a better prompter than asking a question. Sue looked uncomfortable and wouldn’t look Gary in the eye. But she eventually broke and said quickly, ‘They used to be thick as thieves. Sol was the one person Pixie didn’t seem to get upset with. She never yelled at him. She never seemed to be angry with him. She relied on him for everything. They were close. But something happened a few weeks ago. Since then Pixie could hardly bear to be in the same room with him. She would yell at him and put him down in front of others. Something was going on.’

  ‘Were they lovers?’

  Sue looked shocked.

  ‘No. I don’t think so! I always thought they were more like father and daughter. They weren’t lovers.’

  Gary raised an eyebrow.

  ‘How can you be sure they weren’t lovers? Perhaps they had a lovers’ tiff?’

  Sue looked troubled. ‘Well, no, I guess I can’t be sure. But if they were lovers, they kept a pretty good cover. I just couldn’t imagine them together. She’s tall, beautiful, and glamorous. He’s—well, he’s weedy and a bit comical to look at really. They just don’t look right together as a couple.’

  Gary was surprised Sue Barker was so naive in her views of who would be attracted to whom. Ever since playing Lysander in a school play of A Midsummer Night’s Dream a few decades ago, Gary had been acutely aware of and had indeed witnessed the magical power of love in bringing together the most unlikely of couples.

  ‘What do you think happened a few weeks ago to change Ms Browning’s view of Mr Semler?’

  ‘I have no idea. It’s a mystery to me,’ answered Sue before adding, ‘can I go now?’

  Gary was surprised. ‘Are we keeping you from something?’

  ‘Well, yes. I’m very sorry, Detective Chief Inspector, but I’ve got a television studio booked. I’m doing interviews this afternoon for ESPN for their golf channel. They’ve hired me. This is a big break, as I’m hoping to transition into the media when I retire from the golf circuit in a few months’ time.’ After a short pause, she added, ‘I could come back later this afternoon if you still have questions for me?’

  As it turned out, Gary was thinking of wrapping up the interview anyway, as he had a long list ahead of him. ‘Okay, Ms Barker, you’re free to go after forensics has finished with you. It should only take about fifteen minutes. Detective Lee will show you the way.’

  Gary got up from the table to stretch his legs and walked over to the window while he waited for Kym Lee to take out Sue Barker and bring in the next interviewee. The view to the southeast stretched across the mix of concrete office and stone residential buildings, over the gum-studded parklands and European-treed suburbia, across to the Adelaide Hills. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky.

  Hideko Kita entered the room gracefully ahead of Detective Kym Lee. She stopped when she saw Gary and bowed, keeping her upper body straight, bending from the hips. Her hands stayed by her side. Gary gave an awkward nod of the head in return and gestured for her to take a seat.

  ‘Good afternoon, Ms Kita. Thank you for your time today.’

  ‘That is my pleasure,’ said Hideko in good English laced with a heavy Japanese accent.

  ‘When did you last see Ms Browning?’

  ‘The last time I saw Pixie Browning was on the golf course yesterday. I saw her walk off from the second tee, and that was the last time I saw her. By the time I finished my round, she had left the clubhouse.’

  ‘So you didn’t attend the media function last night, Ms Kita?’

  ‘No, I didn’t, Detective Chief Inspector Jarvie. I was very tired, and I wanted to be at my best for the tournament. I rarely attend events once the tournament has started.’

  Gary was not surprised by her answer. Hideko Kita seemed to be very formal.

  ‘Can you tell me what happened on the course yesterday morning that caused Ms Browning to become so upset and walk off?’

  From experience, Gary knew every witness’s version could be different, even when they were telling the truth.

  ‘Well, we were all frightened by this enormous snake. It was at least three metres long,’ said Hideko as she h
eld out her arms as far as she could.

  Gary kept a poker face, knowing eastern browns never grew beyond about a metre in length.

  ‘And then we all ran as fast as we could until the snake disappeared into the bushes. We were very frightened. Pixie became angry. She demanded to speak with Mr Hendy, the course director.’ Hideko paused and appeared to be gathering her thoughts ‘And the course marshal. A woman. She made Pixie angrier. The marshal was very bossy.’

  Gary allowed himself a wry smile. ‘Go on.’

  ‘Well, Pixie had some angry words with Mr Hendy and then threw the mobile phone to the ground and stormed off.’

  ‘Why didn’t you storm off too, Ms Kita? You were scared. Why did you play on?’

  ‘I wanted to do the honourable thing. The marshal, under the instruction of Mr Hendy, told Sue Barker and myself to play on.”

  ‘Did you like Pixie Browning?’

  Hideko looked straight back at Gary. ‘No. No, I did not.’

  ‘And why not?’

  ‘Pixie did not respect the etiquette of golf. She was very rude. Very selfish. Very spoilt. She was not respectful. She was not an easy person to like.’

  ‘Did she have any enemies? Anyone you think would want to harm her?’

  Hideko narrowed her eyes and thought for a moment before saying, ‘I cannot say about the harm, but as I said, she was not an easy person to like. She was not popular among the women players.’

  ‘Anyone in particular?’

  ‘Matilda Lambert was often very angry with her.’

  ‘And how did Matilda Lambert display her anger?’

  ‘She yelled a lot. She yelled at Pixie and said she was a whore.’ Hideko lowered her eyes and her voice as she uttered whore.

  ‘Did you ever hear Matilda Lambert threaten Ms Browning with physical violence?’

  ‘No. No, I never heard her threaten violence, but she acted in a brutish way. She was very aggressive in her manner.’