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Authors: Jill Paterson
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city. I stayed there on Tuesday night after I arrived in Sydney. I’ve been working in Ecuador for the past year. I collected my things, finalised my bill and came here to my father’s house.’
‘Alone?’
‘Yes.’
‘Did you go out again during the evening?’
‘No.’
‘So you spent the evening here, alone.’
‘Ah, not entirely. I did have a caller early on.’
‘At what time?’
‘Mmm. I didn’t take much notice of the time, but I suppose it was between seven and eight o’clock.’
‘And who was your caller, Dr Harford?’
‘Her name’s Claire Howell.’
‘And how long did she stay?’
‘Not long. Ten minutes or so.’
‘I see. And where can we contact Ms Howell?’
Fitzjohn sensed Nicholas Harford’s unease. ‘I’m not sure. I believe she moved recently. I might have a mobile number for her though.’ Nicholas Harford reached for a mobile phone that sat on the desk before writing down a number on his note pad and handing it to Betts.
‘Of course, Inspector, there is every chance that this could have been a robbery gone wrong. After all, Brayshaw’s are diamond merchants.’
Annoyed at the implication that this fact could have been overlooked, Fitzjohn glared at Nicholas Harford. ‘A stock take is being performed as we speak, Dr Harford.’
‘And my aunt...’
‘She was informed of her husband’s death early this morning.’
Moments later, Fitzjohn and Betts emerged from the house, walking back along the path and down the stone steps to their car. ‘He didn’t appear too disturbed by the news of his uncle’s death, sir.’
‘That’s true, Betts. But the fact we’re aware he argued with his uncle just prior to his death seemed to rattle him. No doubt, he’ll be praying that Laurence Harford’s death was caused by means other than his attack on him.’ Fitzjohn opened the car door. ‘He certainly has one less worry though.’
‘You mean the contesting of the will.’
‘Yes, because if Laurence Harford had contested his brother’s will and won, Nicholas Harford would have lost the entire estate. An estate that appears to be worth millions.’
‘But there is every possibility Laurence Harford would have lost, sir.’
‘True, but perhaps Nicholas Harford didn’t want to take that chance.’
Fitzjohn climbed into the car before glancing out the side window at the house. ‘He does have an alibi, though. What was her name?’
‘Claire Howell, sir.’
‘Ah, yes,’ said Fitzjohn as Betts turned the ignition and pulled away from the curb.
‘What would you have done, sir?’ Fitzjohn looked across at Betts. ‘If someone had called your mother a whore.’
‘Oh, probably the same thing.’ A glint of a smile came to Fitzjohn’s face.
‘Where to now, sir?’
‘We’ll have a word with Eric Holmes. Where does he live?’
‘Balmain, sir.’
CHAPTER 8
As the door closed behind the Chief Inspector and his Sergeant, Nicholas returned to the study, Laurence’s death still inconceivable to him. Briefly, he looked out of the window and watched the two police officers get into their car. Could his attack on Laurence have had something to do with the man’s death? An uneasy feeling started to take hold as Nicholas’s mind ran through the implications of his actions. The whole incident could only arouse police suspicion. He retraced the Inspector’s questions. Perhaps telling them about Claire’s unexpected reappearance last night had been a mistake. What would she tell them when they spoke to her? His thoughts went to his surprise when he had found her at the door, a look of amusement on her face, and his annoyance turning to anger when she refused to leave. What did she hope to achieve? A growing awareness of the precarious situation he now found himself in gripped Nicholas and he slumped down into the chair behind the desk. After a few moments, he unfolded his
‘Alone?’
‘Yes.’
‘Did you go out again during the evening?’
‘No.’
‘So you spent the evening here, alone.’
‘Ah, not entirely. I did have a caller early on.’
‘At what time?’
‘Mmm. I didn’t take much notice of the time, but I suppose it was between seven and eight o’clock.’
‘And who was your caller, Dr Harford?’
‘Her name’s Claire Howell.’
‘And how long did she stay?’
‘Not long. Ten minutes or so.’
‘I see. And where can we contact Ms Howell?’
Fitzjohn sensed Nicholas Harford’s unease. ‘I’m not sure. I believe she moved recently. I might have a mobile number for her though.’ Nicholas Harford reached for a mobile phone that sat on the desk before writing down a number on his note pad and handing it to Betts.
‘Of course, Inspector, there is every chance that this could have been a robbery gone wrong. After all, Brayshaw’s are diamond merchants.’
Annoyed at the implication that this fact could have been overlooked, Fitzjohn glared at Nicholas Harford. ‘A stock take is being performed as we speak, Dr Harford.’
‘And my aunt...’
‘She was informed of her husband’s death early this morning.’
Moments later, Fitzjohn and Betts emerged from the house, walking back along the path and down the stone steps to their car. ‘He didn’t appear too disturbed by the news of his uncle’s death, sir.’
‘That’s true, Betts. But the fact we’re aware he argued with his uncle just prior to his death seemed to rattle him. No doubt, he’ll be praying that Laurence Harford’s death was caused by means other than his attack on him.’ Fitzjohn opened the car door. ‘He certainly has one less worry though.’
‘You mean the contesting of the will.’
‘Yes, because if Laurence Harford had contested his brother’s will and won, Nicholas Harford would have lost the entire estate. An estate that appears to be worth millions.’
‘But there is every possibility Laurence Harford would have lost, sir.’
‘True, but perhaps Nicholas Harford didn’t want to take that chance.’
Fitzjohn climbed into the car before glancing out the side window at the house. ‘He does have an alibi, though. What was her name?’
‘Claire Howell, sir.’
‘Ah, yes,’ said Fitzjohn as Betts turned the ignition and pulled away from the curb.
‘What would you have done, sir?’ Fitzjohn looked across at Betts. ‘If someone had called your mother a whore.’
‘Oh, probably the same thing.’ A glint of a smile came to Fitzjohn’s face.
‘Where to now, sir?’
‘We’ll have a word with Eric Holmes. Where does he live?’
‘Balmain, sir.’
CHAPTER 8
As the door closed behind the Chief Inspector and his Sergeant, Nicholas returned to the study, Laurence’s death still inconceivable to him. Briefly, he looked out of the window and watched the two police officers get into their car. Could his attack on Laurence have had something to do with the man’s death? An uneasy feeling started to take hold as Nicholas’s mind ran through the implications of his actions. The whole incident could only arouse police suspicion. He retraced the Inspector’s questions. Perhaps telling them about Claire’s unexpected reappearance last night had been a mistake. What would she tell them when they spoke to her? His thoughts went to his surprise when he had found her at the door, a look of amusement on her face, and his annoyance turning to anger when she refused to leave. What did she hope to achieve? A growing awareness of the precarious situation he now found himself in gripped Nicholas and he slumped down into the chair behind the desk. After a few moments, he unfolded his
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