ONCE UPON A LIE (A Fitzjohn Mystery) (10 page)

‘So would I be right in saying he found it equally difficult to have a winemaker managing the winery?’ asked Fitzjohn.  ‘It’s just that I seem to remember you said there was a problem there too.  With Pierce Whitehead, that is.’

‘
Mmm.  Michael never liked Pierce.  Of course, it didn’t matter when my mother was alive because Michael didn’t have anything to do with the winery.  Mum was Pierce’s immediate contact.  But nothing went smoothly after she died because Michael and Pierce clashed.’

‘
Is Mr Whitehead difficult to get along with?’

‘N
ot especially.’

‘What do you know about his
past, Ms Rossi?’

‘
Only what my mother told me.  Before he came to us, he’d spent six years in France.’

‘And before that?’

‘I have no idea.’

‘
Do you know how your mother came to employ him?’  Charlotte’s hand went back to the gold chain around her neck.

‘No. 
She never said, and I didn’t ask.  She would have thought me meddlesome.’  Charlotte paused.  ‘My mother didn’t like to be questioned about her decisions, Chief Inspector.  I suppose in that respect, she was very much like Michael.’  Charlotte gave a quick smile.

‘Very well, Ms Rossi
.  We won’t keep you any longer.’

‘So,’ said Fitzjohn, as Betts put the car in to gear and pulled away from the curb, ‘Charlotte Rossi did believe that, in the event of her uncle’s death, she would more than likely end up the sole owner of the winery.  And in light of the fact that he was about to sell the place, it does give her a strong motive to kill Michael Rossi.’

‘
Unlikely though.  Wouldn’t you say, sir?’

‘Why
, Betts?’

‘Because
she doesn’t weigh more than a feather.  I don’t see how she could…’

‘I admit she’
s slight, Betts, but she’s also fit, not to mention familiar with the workings of yachts.  And then there’s the possibility she had help.’

‘Who by?’

‘Pierce Whitehead,’ said Fitzjohn, adjusting his wire-framed glasses.  ‘After all, they both had something to gain.’

‘
But she says she hardly knows the man.’

‘
So she did.  And very convincingly too.  But do you believe her?’

Later that same day, Fitzjohn walked in to Day Street Police Station to greetings from his fellow officers.  Wanting to get his meeting with Chief Superintendent Grieg over as quickly as possible, he wasted no time in reaching Grieg’s office where he felt the tension in the air as soon as he entered.

‘You took your damn time,’
said Grieg, tossing his pen aside.

‘I’m sorry about that
, sir.  It couldn’t be helped.’  Fitzjohn sighed, digging deep for patience, and the ability to be civil to Grieg.

Grieg sat back in hi
s chair making a steeple with his fingers while he studied Fitzjohn.  ‘I don’t want your excuses,’ he spat.  ‘I called you here because I understand your investigations have led you to interview a man by the name of Wyngard.’

His interest piqued, Fitzjohn answered,
‘Yes, they have.  The victim died on Graeme Wyngard’s yacht.  Why?  Is there a problem, Chief Superintendent?’

Grieg’s hands went to the arms of his chair as he
glared at Fitzjohn.  ‘Mr Wyngard has lodged a complaint concerning your discourteous behaviour toward him.’

‘I’m aware
of that,’ said Fitzjohn.  ‘He lodged it at Kings Cross Police Station on Saturday afternoon because I refused to release his yacht.’  A slight smiled crossed over Fitzjohn’s face.  ‘I understand he’s missed his yacht race today.’

‘R
elease the damn yacht Fitzjohn,’ barked Grieg.  ‘Immediately.’

‘I will.  When we have no further use of it… sir.’  Grieg’s face reddened.

‘Don’t push me Fitzjohn, because you’ll regret it.’

As Sunday night closed in, Fitzjohn returned to Kings Cross Police Station feeling unsettled.  Did Grieg have a mole at Kings Cross, keeping tabs on him and his investigation?  What else could explain how Grieg knew about Wyngard’s complaint?  With this thought playing on his mind, he opened the Incident Room door to find Williams at one of the desks.  ‘It’s late Williams.  Don’t you have a home to go to?’

‘I’m j
ust finishing up my notes, sir.’

Fitzjohn
sat heavily in to his chair, surprised at Williams’s dedication to duty.  A far cry from the Williams he had known at Day Street Station.  Why the change? he wondered.  Was it due to Williams getting away from Day Street and Chief Superintendent Grieg.  Didn’t Williams mention that he had been permanently moved at Grieg’s request?  Or was that a well engineered story?  Was Williams Grieg’s mole?

CHAPTER 11

The drone of cicadas filled the hot afternoon air as Charlotte returned to Esme’s.  Letting herself in to the house, she placed her overnight bag, along with the sketch, next to the staircase in the front hall, and walked through to the kitchen.  ‘Esme.  I’m back.  I just…’  Reaching the doorway Charlotte stopped.  The room stood empty, the monotonous drip of the tap in to the stainless steel sink breaking the silence and adding a sense of abandonment.  Charlotte turned back, retracing her steps.  As she reached Esme’s bedroom door, she tapped lightly. ‘Esme, are you there?’ she asked.  The door swung open and Charlotte’s heart quickened.  An old photo album lay on the floor, its contents strewn across the room.  With growing uneasiness, she returned to the front hall and called again.  ‘Esme?’

‘I’m
up here, dear,’ came Esme’s soft voice from above.

With relief
, Charlotte raced up the stairs to find her great-aunt sitting in a chair in the study.  ‘Oh, Esme.  I thought…’

‘What is it, dear?  You look
flustered.’

‘I just found
your photo album on the floor in your bedroom and...’

‘
Oh, yes, I dropped it and with it being so old, the pages fell out.  Then the phone rang and I got distracted.’

Charlotte
picked her way through the papers scattered across the study floor and perched herself on the edge of the desk.  ‘I thought you didn’t come upstairs anymore Esme.’

‘I don’t
usually, but it’s not every day one’s house is burgled.  I wanted to have another look to see if anything’s missing.  But then I sat down and started reminiscing instead.  I loved it when your mother spent time in here.’  Esme smiled in reflection.  ‘She hummed while she worked, you know.  At that time, I slept in one of the bedrooms up here, and I used to listen to her.  I found it comforting.’  Esme paused.  ‘But, enough of my musings,’ she said, casting her eyes around.  ‘This room’s a mess, isn’t it?’

‘Yes,
it is, but I’ll have it tidied up in no time.  You’ll see.’   Charlotte bent down and started picking up papers and books from the floor. ‘I’d have been back sooner, but I got delayed by the police.’

‘Oh
.  Did they have news?’ asked Esme, her eyes lighting up.

‘No, they just asked me a lot of questions about the pe
ople who knew Michael.  And about the winery.  They seemed particularly interested in the fact that I’m part owner, and wanted to know how I felt about Michael selling the place.’  Charlotte looked up at Esme.  ‘I got an uncomfortable feeling that they think I could have something to do with his death.’  Esme leaned forward and patted Charlotte’s shoulder.

‘T
hey’re just doing their job, dear.  And to do that, they have to look at every possibility.  Don’t let it worry you.’  Esme smiled.  ‘Look on the bright side.  You won’t have to sell the winery now because you’ll own it out-right.’

Charlotte
placed the papers she had gathered on to the desk.  ‘Well, that may or may not be the case, Esme.’

‘What
ever do you mean?’

‘
I mean that there’s every possibility Michael left his share of the winery to Stella.’

‘To Stella?  Why on earth would he do that?
  Surely he made a new will when his marriage to Stella collapsed.  And even if he didn’t.  It was always understood that you’d inherit the winery.’

‘
Well, I know Stella is the sole beneficiary of Michael’s estate which is as it should be.  But whether or not that includes the winery, I don’t know. We’ll just have to wait until the will is made available.’

‘And in the meantime?’ asked Esme.

‘I thought I’d drive up to Five Oaks tomorrow.  With what’s happened, I think I should speak to Rafe Simms.  He’s completing the harvest since Pierce Whitehead quit.’

‘
I didn’t know that Pierce quit,’ replied Esme in surprise.  ‘What happened?’

‘
Apparently, he and Michael argued.  It was right in the middle of harvest.  I’m surprised Michael didn’t mention it to you, Esme.’

‘No.  Not a word
.  But it doesn’t surprise me.  Michael wasn’t one for sharing anything.  And as for the argument.  I can’t think of anyone Michael got along with for long.  Can you?’

‘
Only Rafe Simms.  I think Michael respected Rafe.  And thank goodness he did because not only is Rafe finishing the harvest, but he’s buying the grapes at an agreed price.’

‘And
if the winery is left to you.  What will you do?’

‘
I’ll have to make some quick decisions about its management, I suppose,’ answered Charlotte.

‘
You could always put your degree in viticulture to good use and manage it yourself.’

Charlotte shook her head.  ‘
I don’t think so, Esme.  I can’t see myself ever living at Five Oaks Winery now.’

‘A bit too close is it?  To Rafe Simms.’

‘Yes.  It is.’

Esme sat back again in her
chair.  ‘You know, despite your mother’s opinion of him, I always liked Rafe.  He reminds me very much of his grandfather.  A handsome man if there ever was one.  If I hadn’t been engaged to Thomas at the time…’  Esme’s eyes sparkled.

Charlotte
bent down again and gathered up more papers, wanting to avoid any further conversation about Rafe that would cause her to revisit the past.

‘
You know, Esme, I’ve been thinking,’ she said, in an attempt to put Rafe to the back of her mind.  ‘Michael would never have left the winery without first listing the property with the real estate agent unless it was something dire.

‘
I agree,’ said Esme.  ‘And I think it had something to do with your mother because when he arrived here on Friday evening, he was like a man possessed.  All he wanted to do was come straight up to this room.’  Esme got to her feet, steadying herself on the desk.  ‘That’s odd,’

‘What is it?’
asked Charlotte.

‘
The perfume bottle is gone.  It always sat here.’  Esme’s hand trembled as it touched the surface of the bureau.

Charlotte sensed Esme’s deep disappointment.
  ‘I’m so sorry, Esme.’

‘So am I, Charlotte
.  Not because it was worth a great deal, but because it was one of my treasures.  It belonged to my grandmother.’  Esme sighed.  ‘I suppose the police should be told.  It could mean that the break-in wasn’t connected to Michael’s death.’  Esme wrapped her cardigan around herself.  ‘Either way, I think I’ll go downstairs and make us both some tea,’ she said.

Charlotte
watched Esme leave the study, appreciating that the perfume bottle’s disappearance was just one too many blows for Esme.  Kneeling down again, she picked up the remaining papers and books from the floor and placed them on the desk before reaching to close the desk drawer.  It was then she noticed an envelope wedged in the back of the drawer.  Using a ruler, she nudged it out before removing its contents.  The heading caught her eye.  “Report in to the provenance of the Brandt sketch”.  Charlotte settled herself in to the chair and flipped through the report. It was then she heard Esme calling.

‘Coming,
’ she replied. Charlotte closed the desk drawer and left the room, taking the report with her.  She found Esme at the kitchen table pouring the tea.

‘
Did you find something, after all,’ asked Esme, seeing the papers in Charlotte’s hand.

‘Yes.  It’s a report Mum was preparing on a sketch she purchased in 2010.
’

‘Not the one that’s sitting in the front hall next to your overnight bag.’

‘Yes, as a matter of fact.’  Charlotte laid the report out on the table.  ‘I’d forgotten I’d left it in my car yesterday when I got here.’

‘Your mother showed that sketch to me just after she’d bought it.  I can’t say it’s to my taste.’

‘Nor mine, Esme. That’s why I lent it to Michael.  He loved it.  And I must admit, it did fit in well with the décor of his house.  It’s by a well known artist called Brandt.’