ONCE UPON A LIE (A Fitzjohn Mystery) (15 page)

A feeling of loss swept
over Charlotte as she watched Rafe climb in to his truck and give a nonchalant wave before driving off.  Charlotte turned and started to walk slowly back toward the house.  They had once been so close and at ease with each other.  Rafe’s uncharacteristic distance had unnerved her.  But what did I expect, she thought.  Our relationship has been over for a long time.  Or have I only just realised that fact.  It’s my own fault for turning up here out of the blue.  I’ve embarrassed him.  Unless, of course, Pierce Whitehead is to be believed.  As she reached the verandah of the house, she looked out across the endless rows of vines.  This place is certainly worth coveting. Inside, she found Esme sitting in the living room looking through an old photo album.

‘Oh, there you are,
Charlotte. Were you able to speak to Rafe about the harvest?’

‘Yes.  It’s
all finished.’  Charlotte slumped down in to a chair.

‘What is it
, dear?  You look a bit down.’ Esme removed her glasses and put them on the table next to her chair before she closed the album.  ‘Has seeing Rafe again upset you?’

‘You’re very perceptive , Esme.’

‘Well, it’s understandable, isn’t it?  You two were engaged to be married. It can’t have been easy seeing him again.’

‘No
. It wasn’t,’ said Charlotte, thinking about Sally.  ‘But it’s also something he said that made me wonder...  I’m probably wrong, but it was almost as though he was advising me to sell Five Oaks.’  Charlotte recounted her conversations with Rafe.  ‘What do you think, Esme?’

Esme sat
in thought for a minute or two.  ‘Perhaps he was merely letting you know the possible pitfalls you could face if you decide to run the winery from a distance.  Although having said that, I seem to remember he did make an offer for Five Oaks just before your mother took over its management.’

‘I didn’t know that,
’ replied Charlotte.

‘
Oh, it was long before you and Rafe started seeing each other.  And it was only a verbal offer, you understand, when he found out your grandfather planned to sell.  I think it spurred your mother in to a decision.  She’d been undecided for months about taking on the winery, and your grandfather got tired of waiting.’  Esme paused.  ‘And as far as Pierce Whitehead’s claims about Rafe are concerned, I’m sure Pierce wouldn’t know your mother’s real reason for disliking Rafe.  She’d never have disclosed that to a member of her staff.’

‘I know you’re right
, but I can’t help wondering...’

‘
About what?’ asked Esme.  ‘About whether that was the reason he asked you to marry him?’

‘Yes.’

‘Charlotte.  Do you really think that Rafe Simms is that sort of person?’  Esme sighed.  ‘To be quite frank, my dear, I don’t see that there’s a dilemma.  You turned Rafe down so as far as I can see, the matter’s closed.  Unless, of course, you’re still in love with him.’

‘
It’s too late for that, Esme.  Rafe’s moved on.’

‘Oh
.  I see.  Another woman.’

Charlotte nodded
.

Esme got to her feet. 
‘Didn’t you mention that you wanted to gather together all the papers that relate to the winery while we’re here.  I think this is a good time to do that.  Let’s get busy, my girl.’  Charlotte followed Esme out of the living room and into the study.   ‘Oh, I remember this room when your grandfather was alive,’ said Esme, standing in the doorway.  ‘And it’s almost as he left it.’  Esme cast her eyes around before they came to rest on a photograph on the wall above the bureau.  ‘I remember when this was taken,’ she said, walking over.  ‘It was just after I’d got news that Thomas was lost in action.  Your grandmother, my sister, invited me here to stay with them for a while.’  Esme fell silent before her gaze lowered to the bureau beneath the photograph.  ‘And this bureau was Thomas’s.  I gave it to your grandfather.  He and Thomas had been good friends.’  Esme opened the bureau letting down the writing desk.  ‘I seem to remember a hidden compartment here somewhere.  I used to keep Thomas’s letters in it.  And if I’m not mistaken...’  As Esme pushed the surface above the desktop, a small drawer popped open.  ‘Voila!’  A smile of satisfaction came to Esme’s face before it turned to one of surprise.  ‘Oh, look, there are still letters inside.  Surely they’re not mine.’  Esme peered into the small space and her smile faded.

‘What is it
?’ asked Charlotte.

‘There are
three letters here.  All addressed to your mother.’  Esme handed the envelopes to Charlotte.

Charlotte studied each one
.  ‘Should we open them?  Or should we put them back.’ She looked across at Esme.  ‘After all, letters are private.  Even when you’ve passed away.’

‘I
t’s up to you, Charlotte.’

‘Well, the addresses on the envelopes are printed so I doubt they’re personal. 
I’ll just have a peak,’ she said with a smile.  Charlotte took the first letter from its envelope, unfolded it and gasped.

‘What is
it?’

Charlotte handed the letter to Esme.  ‘
It’s not a proper letter, Esme.  The words have been pieced together from newspaper and magazine print.  And look what it says.  It reads like a poison pen letter.  Who would send such letters?’

Esme put her glasses
on and read the letter.  ‘Someone with a twisted mind,’ she said, frowning.

CHAPTER
15

Charlotte
sat at one of the coffee shop’s outdoor tables, absentmindedly turning the pages of the morning paper.  The letters she and Esme had found at the winery the day before played on her mind, overshadowing her thoughts about Michael’s death.

‘Y
ou’re back.’  Charlotte looked up to see Phillipa Braithwaite.  ‘I called at the bookshop yesterday and Irene said you and Esme had gone to the winery.’

‘
We did.  I thought I should speak to Rafe about the harvest.’

‘
That must have been awkward for you,’ said Phillipa, sitting down.

‘Mmm.  It was a bit.’
  Charlotte cast her mind back to Sally’s appearance.  ‘But, it had to be done.  And besides, I wanted to get all the papers concerning Five Oaks, just in case I decide to sell.’  Charlotte folded the newspaper.

‘
But I thought you weren’t interested in selling the winery.’

‘I
wasn’t, but now...’

Phillipa eyed Charlotte.  ‘Don’t tell me your
change of mind is because of Rafe Simms.  You ended that relationship almost two years ago, Charlotte.  It shouldn’t be a problem.’  Charlotte did not reply.  ‘So, what else did you and Esme get up to while you were there?’ continued Phillipa.

‘Actually, we found something rather disturbing
.  In an old bureau that once belonged to Esme’s fiancé, Thomas.  Esme said that while Thomas was in Korea, she’d kept his letters there, in a small drawer.  When she opened that drawer there were still letters inside, but not from Thomas.  These were letters addressed to my mother.  Three of them, sent anonymously, each telling her that Richard was seeing someone else.  And they weren’t written or typed, but made up from newspaper and magazine print.’  Charlotte sighed. ‘Poor Mum.  Just when she and Richard were getting their lives back together.  I wish I’d known.’

‘
Did you say there were
three
letters?’

‘Yes.
’  Charlotte caught Phillipa’s surprised look.  ‘Did you know about them, Phil?’

‘
I knew your mother had received one because I was there when she opened it.  I didn’t know there’d been others.’  The words cut through Charlotte.  ‘Your mother made me promise not to say anything to anyone.  And after her death… well, it had been so traumatic for everyone concerned that I didn’t want to bring the matter up.  I’m sorry, Charlotte.  I should have said something, but the time never seemed right.’  Phillipa paused.  ‘Where are the letters now?’

‘
They’re at Esme’s.  I’m staying with her at the moment.  I didn’t like the thought of her being alone in the house after that break-in.  I was going to tear the letters up, but Esme said we should give them to the police.  Especially since Michael had said he was looking for letters when he went to Esme’s that night.’

‘I
think Esme’s right.  The police need to be told, Charlotte, because they are asking questions about your mother.  I know because they came to see me the other day.’

‘
Really?  Well, I suppose that’s because Michael told Esme he wanted to look through Mum’s study.’  Charlotte took a sip of her coffee not wanting to revisit thoughts of her mother’s death.  But perhaps now, with these letters surfacing, and Michael’s death, she would have no choice.

‘I take it they haven’t spoken to you about her yet.’  Charlotte shook her head.  ‘Well, they probably will.’ 
Phillipa looked at her watch.  ‘Look, I have a meeting to attend so I’m going to have to go, but why don’t we meet later for lunch.’

‘I
’d love to Phil, but I can’t,’ replied Charlotte.  ‘There’s something I have to do. It’s about that sketch I lent to Michael.’

‘The
Brandt sketch?’

‘Yes.
Apparently, Mum had been looking in to its provenance before she died.’

‘Well, that does surprise me because I believe she bought it from my boss, Aiden Maxwell, and he’s no
thing but reputable.’

‘
I don’t know why she was doing it, but as I plan to sell the sketch I thought I’d follow it up.’

‘
Do you know how long and arduous a task that could be, Charlotte?’

‘
I can only imagine, but Mum did leave quite detailed notes about what she planned to do.  I’ll follow them as best I can.’

Phillipa
smiled.  ‘Well, in my experience, enthusiasm is the first thing that goes so when it does, let me know and I’ll give you a hand.  And I won’t tell Aiden.  He’d be mortified if he knew your mother doubted him.’

Later that day, Charlotte made her way to Balgowlah and the home of Douglas Porteous in an effort to further her mother’s research in to the provenance of the Brandt sketch.  She pulled over to the curb in front of a red brick Federation style semi, but hesitated before climbing out of the car.  Unlike Claudia, Charlotte had little knowledge of the art world, and being unaware of what had transpired between her mother and Douglas Porteous when they met in 2010, she wanted to decide how to approach him. The house was situated on the low side of the street and on opening the front gate, she descended six steps in to an immaculate front garden, its walk way bordered by white standard roses.  Their scent filled the air around her as she made her way to the porch where she tentatively knocked on the front door.  When it opened, she was greeted by a plump woman wearing a yellow floral dress, her curly grey hair framing a round smiling face.  ‘Can I help you?’ she asked.

‘My name’
s Charlotte Rossi.  I’m looking for Douglas Porteous.’  The woman’s smile disappeared.’

‘
I’m Eunice Porteous.  My husband died some time ago.’

‘
Oh. I’m sorry.  I had no idea.’

‘You weren’t to know.
’  Eunice Porteous eyed Charlotte guardedly.  ‘What is it you wanted to see Douglas about?  One of his orders that never got filled?  If that’s the case, then I’m very sorry.  I probably didn’t get in contact with all his customers at the time of his death.’

Charlotte shook her head. 
‘No, Mrs Porteous, it’s nothing like that.  It’s about a piece of art work.’

‘
I beg your pardon?’

‘
A piece of art work.  A sketch that my mother, Claudia Rossi, bought just before she died.’

Eunice Porteous
folded her arms.  ‘Well, as I said, my husband is gone, and besides, he was a furniture maker.  He wasn’t an artist.’

‘
I’m not saying that he was, Mrs Porteous.  According to this,’ Charlotte held up the documentation her mother had left, ‘your husband was the previous owner of a sketch.  A Brandt sketch.  And I understand that my mother came to see him about it in mid-June 2010.’  Eunice Porteous tensed.  ‘She was making enquiries about its provenance, but unfortunately she died before she completed her task.’

‘
Well, as I said, you’re mistaken.  You have the wrong Porteous.’

I don’t think so
, thought Charlotte as she watched the door close in her face.  Surprised as well as intrigued by Eunice Porteous’s reaction at the mention of the Brandt sketch, Charlotte walked back through the garden to her car.  Had her mother encountered a problem when she had approached Douglas Porteous? Is that why the report remained unfinished?  Charlotte climbed into her car, opened the report and reread it.  Aiden Maxwell’s name caught her eye.  She knew her mother had worked closely with Aiden on a number of projects.  Surely she would have spoken to him about her concerns for the sketch’s provenance.  Charlotte started the car and as she did so, the sheer curtain on the main front window of Eunice Porteous’s house moved.  She’s obviously frightened, but what of thought Charlotte?