Read Online Murder at the Rocks by Jill Paterson - Free Book Online

Sergeant Betts.’  Fitzjohn and Betts showed their warrant cards.  ‘Andrew Pemlett told us where we might find you.  Could we have a word, please?’
    ‘Is there some kind of problem, Inspector?’
    ‘There is, I’m afraid.’
    ‘Right, well you’d better come in.’  Fitzjohn and Betts stepped into a large entrance hall, its furnishings luxuriant.  ‘You’ll have to excuse the mustiness of the place.  It’s been closed up for the past few weeks.’  Nicholas Harford closed the door behind them before leading the way into a room dominated by a large oak desk, its walls lined with books, the smell of leather in the air.  Fitzjohn’s gaze went to a painting above the marble fireplace and he hesitated for a moment.
    ‘Please, sit down, gentlemen.’  Brought back from his thoughts, Fitzjohn sat in a wing back chair to the side of the desk while Betts settled himself in a small leather bound armchair and pulled out his notebook and pen.  Nicholas Harford sat behind the desk in front of the French doors that overlooked the front garden.  ‘What can I do for you?’
    ‘We’re here about your uncle, Laurence Harford.  I’m afraid it’s bad news, sir.  His body was found early this morning at Brayshaw’s Jewellers by one of the employees.  A Mr Parish.’  Fitzjohn and Betts watched Nicholas Harford’s look of disbelief.
    ‘My uncle’s dead?’
    ‘Yes,’ said Fitzjohn.
    The muscles in Nicholas Harford’s left cheek twitched and he shifted in his chair, his gaze moving from Fitzjohn to the desk in front of him.  Moments passed before he said, ‘What happened to him?’
    ‘The exact cause of his death has yet to be determined, but we are treating it as suspicious.’  Fitzjohn paused.  ‘We understand you spoke to Laurence Harford yesterday.’
    ‘Yes, I did.  We both attended Andrew Pemlett’s office to hear my father’s will being read.’
    ‘Is that the last time you saw your uncle alive?’
    ‘Not exactly, no.’  Nicholas Harford’s voice wavered.  ‘As a matter of fact, I saw him again later in the afternoon when I called into Brayshaw’s.’
    ‘Any particular reason?’
    ‘Yes, there was.  You see my father left his controlling interest in the company to me, and as my uncle has been managing it for the past year, I thought we should come to some sort of agreement as to how we would continue.’
    ‘And did you?  Come to an agreement, that is.’
    ‘No.’
    Fitzjohn rose from his chair running his eyes over familiar leather bound volumes in the bookcase before turning back to face Nicholas Harford.  ‘What time were you there, Doctor?’
    ‘About five-thirty or there abouts.’
    ‘And you left when?’
    ‘Ten or fifteen minutes later.’
    ‘I’m led to believe you argued with Laurence Harford.  Is that true?’
    Nicholas Harford’s body tensed.  ‘Yes, I admit I did lose my temper.’
    ‘It seems you did more than lose your temper.’  Fitzjohn waited for Nicholas Harford to respond, his eyes glaring.  ‘Well?’
    ‘You’re right; I punched him… on the jaw.’  Nicholas Harford paused.  ‘God.  I hope my actions haven’t contributed to his death, Inspector.’
    Fitzjohn’s eyes locked onto Nicholas.  ‘We’ll know more after the post mortem.  Even so, are you in the habit of punching people?’
    A look of indignation came to Nicholas Harford’s face.  ‘Of course not.’
    ‘Why then?’
    Nicholas Harford hesitated.  ‘Because he called my mother a whore.  What would you have done?’
    ‘Your mother…’
    ‘She died when I was very young, but her memory is important to me.’
    ‘What provoked Laurence Harford to say what he did?’
    ‘He wanted me to hand over my Brayshaw shares, otherwise, he said he’d contest the will.’
    ‘I take it you didn’t oblige.’
    ‘No, and that’s when he became angry.’
    ‘What were your movements after you left Laurence Harford’s office?’
    ‘I went back to the Sir Stamford Hotel in the