ONCE UPON A LIE (A Fitzjohn Mystery) (20 page)

‘
Good afternoon, gentlemen,’ she said, her hands still clinging to three blue irises.

‘Good
afternoon, Ms Braithwaite,’ said Fitzjohn.  ‘We’d like to ask you a few more questions, if we may.’

Phillipa
placed the remaining irises in to the vase and rubbed her hands on a cloth.  ‘Yes, of course, although I doubt that I can add much to what I told you before, Chief Inspector.’  She gave a quick smile and led the way to a group of chairs at the side of the gallery.  As she did so, the telephone rang.  Phillipa gestured to her assistant.  ‘Will you get that, Trudy.  If it’s for me tell them I’ll ring them back.  Sorry about that, Chief Inspector,’ she said as they sat down. ‘Have you more questions about Claudia?’

‘Not Claudia, Ms Braithwaite. 
This time we’d like to ask you about Pierce Whitehead.’

‘
Oh?’  Phillipa sat back, crossing her legs.  ‘Well, all I know about him is that he’s the man Claudia employed as her winemaker at Five Oaks.’

‘
I see,’ said Fitzjohn.  ‘Well, that surprises me, Ms Braithwaite, because it’s come to our attention that Andrew Braithwaite is, in fact, your half-brother.’  Phillipa stiffened.  ‘He tells us he spent last Friday evening - the evening Michael Rossi died - at your home, and didn’t leave until eight the following morning.  Is that correct?’

‘No, it isn’t.
’

‘
Are you sure about that, Ms Braithwaite?  This is a murder investigation.’

Phillipa Braithwaite bristled.  ‘
I’m well aware of that, Chief Inspector, and I’m quite sure Andrew was not at my home last Friday night.  I’ve had little or nothing to do with my half-brother for a number of years.’

‘But surely you had a hand in
securing his position as winemaker at Five Oaks Winery.  After all, it would be too much of a coincidence to assume otherwise.’

‘
Very well.  I admit, I did introduce Andrew to Claudia when she was looking for a winemaker.  And I’ve regretted the deception ever since.’  Phillipa paused.  ‘Sometimes when family is involved, Chief Inspector, we do things we might otherwise not.  My only solace is that I knew he had the ability to do the job.  Any job, as it turns out,’ she added, her eyebrows rising.

‘
So we understand,’ replied Fitzjohn.  ‘We will need you to make an official statement refuting your brother’s alibi, Ms Braithwaite.  And in view of the seriousness of the matter, it’ll have to be done immediately.’

Phillipa
looked at her watch.  ‘And I’ll do that gladly, Chief Inspector, but I’m afraid it’ll have to be later today because I have clients due in less than ten minutes.’

‘
Alas.  This can’t wait, Ms Braithwaite, I suggest you have your assistant make other arrangements for your clients.’

‘So, who do you think is lying, Betts?’ said Fitzjohn, sitting back in his chair. ‘Andrew Braithwaite or his half-sister, Phillipa.’

‘
I can’t see why Andrew Braithwaite would lie about being at Phillipa’s unless he was sure she’d back him up, sir.’

‘
I agree and I’d say he’s going to be surprised to hear she didn’t.  Let’s go and tell him, shall we?’

Fitzjohn
and Betts walked in to the interview room to find Andrew Braithwaite, alias Pierce Whitehead, sitting next to his solicitor.  While Fitzjohn arranged his papers, Betts turned on the recording device and started the formalities, stating the place, time and date.  Andrew Braithwaite hesitated before following the others in stating his name.

‘
So, your name it isn’t Pierce Whitehead after all, but Andrew Braithwaite,’ said Fitzjohn.

Displaying a
n air of amusement, Braithwaite sat back in his chair.  ‘Occupational hazard, Chief Inspector.  Being sprung, that is.’

‘
Do you get sprung often?’

‘No
.  I’m usually well away before that happens.  But this time was different.  I really enjoyed being a winemaker.  That’s why I stayed on after Claudia died.’

Fitzjohn looked down at his papers.  ‘
Andrew James Braithwaite, half-brother to Phillipa Braithwaite.’

‘You have it in one, Chief Inspector.
  Phillipa was six when my mother married my father, James Braithwaite.  I’m not sure Phillipa ever got over having to change her name - to Braithwaite, that is.  And yet she’s kept it.  I’ve always found that rather curious.’

‘
I take it Phillipa had a hand in securing your position at Five Oaks Winery,’ continued Fitzjohn.

‘Of course.
  What are families for if not to help each other.’  Braithwaite chuckled to himself.

‘Why did you do it, Mr
Braithwaite?  And why did you impersonate Pierce Whitehead, in particular?’

‘Why not.  Pierce
and I had studied together some years earlier. I’d heard about his death.  It wasn’t difficult to persuade Claudia to employ me as her winemaker.  After all, Pierce had impeccable credentials.’

‘
It seems you have quite a history of impersonations, only this time, it’s got you mixed up in a murder investigation.’  Braithwaite met Fitzjohn’s intent gaze.

‘I didn’t kill Mike Rossi
, Chief Inspector.  As I told your Sergeant earlier, I was at Phillipa’s the night Mike died.  If you don’t believe me, why don’t you ask Phillipa?’

‘We
have, Mr Braithwaite.  She denies you were there on Friday evening.’

The first
sign of panic came to Andrew Braithwaite’s face.  ‘The bitch.’  Braithwaite ran his hand through his hair.  ‘Look, I admit Mike and I didn’t get on, but I had nothing to do with his death.  I swear it.’

‘
Be that as it may,’ replied Fitzjohn, ‘we believe you had a strong motive to kill Michael Rossi. After all, he did dismiss you, and without notice.  That must have put you in a precarious situation.  Not to mention the fact that you're a wanted man.  Something to do with passing yourself off as a commercial airline pilot, I believe.  It seems you stayed a little too long in that occupation as well.’  Fitzjohn sat back with his hands clasped and tapped his thumbs together.  ‘It doesn’t look good, Mr Braithwaite.’  Fitzjohn unclasped his hands.  ‘You’ll be held in custody and questioned further, not only about your involvement in Michael Rossi’s death, but your escapade as a pilot.  However, before that happens, I’d like to question you about Claudia Rossi.’

‘Claudia?’
  Andrew Braithwaite’s brow furrowed.

‘Yes.  C
an you tell us the last time you saw Claudia Rossi?’

‘
It was the week before she died.’  Braithwaite cleared his throat.  ‘I’d come down to Sydney to organise Five Oaks Winery’s participation in the Sydney Boutique Wine Fair; I planned to showcase a selection of our wines.  I called into Phillipa’s afterwards and Claudia happened to be there.’

‘And
what day of the week was this?’ asked Fitzjohn.

‘
It was a Thursday evening.  I remember because I’d made my trip to coincide with Phillipa’s return from Melbourne.  She’d been there earlier in the week.’

‘Melbourne?’

‘Yes.  She manages an art gallery there.  She makes several trips a month.’

‘I see,’ said Fitzjohn, his interest piqued.
  ‘As a matter of interest, Mr Braithwaite, what was your reason for seeing Phillipa?’  Braithwaite fell silent.  ‘Well?’  When he did not reply, Fitzjohn continued.  ‘Let me remind you, Mr Braithwaite, you’re facing serious charges, and not answering our questions isn’t going to help you.  And it doesn’t seem to me that your half-sister intends to either.’

Andrew Braithwaite sighed
. 'Mmm.  I think you might be right.  So much for brotherly love.  Okay.  I’ll tell you what I know, but it doesn’t have anything to do with Claudia.’

‘We’ll make that judgment,’ replied Fitzjohn.

‘The reason I went to see Phillipa is because she’d asked me to persuade a local artist to sell his work through me.’  Andrew Braithwaite looked down at his clasped hands.  ‘I told him I was an art dealer.  It wasn’t too difficult to get him to agree.’

‘Why didn’t Phillipa approach him herself?’ asked Fitzjohn.

‘She said she had, but without success.  Anyway, I called around to Phillipa’s to give her the good news.’  Braithwaite gave a quick smile.

‘And you say that Phillipa had
previously tried but failed to obtain any sort of agreement with this artist.’

‘Yes.  For whatever reason.  She didn’t offer
an explanation.’

‘Do
you remember the artist’s name?’

‘
No.  At the time, it wasn’t important to me.’

‘In that case, p
erhaps you can give it some thought while you're being held.  Is there anything you'd like to clarify or add before we conclude this interview?’  Andrew Braithwaite shook his head.  ‘Very well, interview terminated at 1640 hours.’

Accompanied by Betts, Fitzjohn walked with a determined gait back to the Incident Room.  ‘So, according to Andrew Braithwaite, Claudia Rossi was at Phillipa Braithwaite’s house on the Thursday evening before she died.  And yet, Phillipa Braithwaite denies seeing Claudia at all during that week.  One of them is lying, but which one?’

‘I’d say it’s Phillipa Braithwaite, sir.  After all, Andrew Braithwaite isn’t aware of the significance of Claudia Rossi being at Phillipa’s for dinner during that week.’

‘Isn’t he?  There’s always the possibility he is, Betts.  Phillipa could have confided in him at some stage.  In which case, he’s telling us he saw Claudia there that night in retaliation for Phillipa denying his alibi for the night that Michael Rossi died.’  Fitzjohn opened the Incident Room door.  ‘But I don’t think that’s probable.  I agree with you.  I think Andrew Braithwaite did see Claudia at Phillipa’s that night.  And, I suppose you could say that it’s understandable that with Claudia dying from mushroom poisoning a couple of days later, Phillipa is reluctant to admit she had her over for dinner.  But, where it comes unstuck is in this other matter to do with Phillipa wanting to acquire an agreement with Douglas Porteous.  Why didn’t she approach Porteous herself?’

‘But she did, without success.  At least that’s what she told Andrew Braithwaite.’

‘She’s lying, Betts.’

‘You mean by having her half-brother make the deal with Porteous, there would be no connection to her.’

‘Of course.  After all, as far as she knew, no one would ever suspect that Andrew Braithwaite, or Pierce Whitehead as he was known, is her half-brother.’  Fitzjohn walked over to his desk.  ‘Have Mrs Porteous come in to identify Andrew Braithwaite, Betts.  If she confirms he’s the art dealer who met with Douglas Porteous then we’ll speak to Phillipa Braithwaite again.’

‘What about Maxwell
, sir?’

‘
Mmm.  It’s hard to say whether he’s involved in the art fraud or not.  He might be oblivious to Phillipa’s actions.  We’ll talk to him again, Betts.  Have him brought in too, will you.  But do it tomorrow.  It’s been a long day.  I want to go home and see what I can do about the tree branch and the remnants of my greenhouse.’

CHAPTER 21

Betts arrived at Fitzjohn’s sandstone cottage in Birchgrove early the next morning, to the sound of a chainsaw.  Curious, he made his way along the side of the house and through the gate in to the back garden.  There, he found Fitzjohn and Sophie, their attention taken by a man sawing through the offending tree branch that now lay ensconced inside the remains of the greenhouse.  Betts came to stand next to Fitzjohn.  ‘This is a lot worse than I imagined,’ he shouted over the whining screech.  ‘There’s almost nothing left of the greenhouse.’

‘
If you think this is bad, take a look at Rhonda Butler’s house,’ replied Fitzjohn.

Betts
cast his eye over the fence.  ‘My god.  The back half of the house has been demolished.  And all for a bit of shade.  What about Mrs Butler?’

‘She’s gone to stay with her brother and his wife
until it’s rebuilt.’  Fitzjohn turned back to his greenhouse and Sophie who stood cradling the dusty CD player that had once sat on the shelf just inside the door.  He put his arm over Sophie’s shoulder and, followed by Betts, they strolled along the garden path to house where rows of orchids huddled together in the shade.

‘So, this is what’s left,’ said Betts, bending down.

‘Yes,’ said Fitzjohn, sighing.

‘
I’m just thankful you weren’t in the greenhouse when it came down, Uncle Alistair,’ said Sophie.

‘If you weren’t staying with me,
Sophie, I probably would have been.’  Fitzjohn opened the back door and they walked inside.

‘
So, my being arrested has had its positive side,’ said Sophie, putting the CD player on the kitchen table.  ‘After all, I wouldn’t have been here otherwise.’

‘You can’t make excuses for getting arrested, Sophie
,’ replied Fitzjohn, pulling on his suit coat.  ‘Now remember, I’ve got those people coming to dismantle what’s left of the greenhouse this afternoon.  I also want them to scour the garden for pieces of glass.’  Fitzjohn picked up his briefcase.  ‘If you encounter any problems, ring me.’