The Celtic Dagger (3 page)

CHAPTER 4

Jostled by the media when he arrived at the University, James passed through the area cordoned off by the police and escaped into his building, where he found the usual atmosphere and pace replaced by heightened activity and unrest.  Unfamiliar faces filled the hallways, while students glanced at him, their expressions intensifying the uncertainty in the air.

He reached his office and unlocked the door but, as he went to step inside, he stopped in his tracks.  The drawn blinds had left the room in darkness save for the small lamp that illuminated his desk.  Perplexed, James crossed the floor.  There, in the centre of the desk, the Celtic dagger and its gold scabbard lay side by side, pointing toward his chair.  James stared at the iron blade, etched with a myriad of patterns.  As he did so, the silence in the room was broken.

‘Dr Wearing, I wonder if you’d mind saying a few words about your brother’s murder.’  James turned to see a police constable appear in the doorway and pull the offending journalist away.  He closed the door and leant back against it.  Who had been in here and laid the dagger out in such a way?  In the next moment, a knock sounded at the door.  Wary, he opened it tentatively and found a short, stout man, his small wire-framed glasses half way down the bridge of his nose.

‘Dr Wearing, I’m Detective Chief Inspector Fitzjohn.  We spoke last night.  This is Detective Sergeant Betts.’  The Chief Inspector half turned to a tall, ginger-haired young man.  ‘I wonder if we might have a word.’

‘Yes, Chief Inspector, come in.’

Fitzjohn took in the small, dimly lit room, its bookcase shelves overflowing, the remnants finding their place in piles on the floor.  He paused when they reached the desk.

‘I arrived a few minutes ago, Chief Inspector, and found this,' said James.  'It’s a Celtic dagger.  The department borrowed it, along with two other artefacts, through the Australian Museum.  They were to be exhibited at an open day we’d planned.  All three were discovered missing yesterday.’

Fitzjohn removed his glasses and bent over the desk.  ‘And what exactly are the other two artefacts?’

‘A gold torque and a ring.  They’re all part of an elite burial of the Hallstatt D era and date from around 500 BC.’

Fitzjohn’s eyebrows rose.  ‘So, a great loss if not found.’

‘Yes.’

‘Who found them to be missing?’

‘Miles Bennett.’  James recounted his conversation with Miles.

‘Have you spoken to Mr Bennett since your return from Melbourne?’

‘No.  I’d planned to see him this morning to tell him the ring’s been found.’

‘Oh?’

‘Yes.  Catherine, Alex’s wife, found it in his study at home.  I have it here.’  James pulled the blue cloth from his pocket and unfolded it.

‘So two of the artefacts have been recovered but there’s still one not accounted for.  A torque, did you say?’

James nodded.  ‘It’s a piece of jewellery worn around the neck.’

‘I’m aware of what it is, Doctor, and I can confirm that it wasn’t found in your brother’s office.’

Fitzjohn turned to Betts.  ‘Get forensics in here, Betts.  Dr Wearing and I will continue our conversation elsewhere.’  He looked back at James.  ‘Follow me, Dr Wearing.’  They walked in silence, James aware of the eyes that avoided his and the hush that descended as they approached one of the tutorial rooms.

As Fitzjohn closed the door, James sat down on one side of a long oak table.  Fitzjohn settled himself on the other side, his back to the window.  ‘I’d planned to contact Edward Sommersby about the artefacts this morning,’ said James.  ‘He’s the director at the museum.’

‘I suggest you leave that to me, Dr Wearing.  The artefacts Mr Bennett reported to you as missing are now part of our investigation.’

‘What about Miles Bennett?’

‘We’ll interview Mr Bennett.’

Fitzjohn leaned back in his chair, his elbows resting on its arms, his hands clasped in front of him.  ‘What I would like, Dr Wearing, is to establish your movements on the night of your brother’s death.’

‘Yes, of course.  I was here at a dinner given in Alex’s honour.  I arrived at about seven-thirty.’

‘And you stayed till what time?’

‘About eleven.’

‘And then?’

‘I got a taxi home.’

‘Alone?’

‘Yes.  I was alone until I left for the airport the next morning.  I took the 6:30 flight to Melbourne to...'  James stopped as the door opened and Sergeant Betts entered the room, sitting down at the far end of the table with a small notebook and pen.

‘And what was your business in Melbourne, Doctor?’

‘As I was about to say, to attend a conference.  I was to give a paper this afternoon.’

Fitzjohn nodded.  ‘So these travel plans were made days, weeks ago?’

James hesitated.  ‘Yes and no.  That is, I registered for the conference about a month ago and made the airline booking at the same time, but then I decided to leave a day early.’

Fitzjohn’s brow furrowed.  ‘When did you decide to do that?’

‘After I got home from the dinner.’

Sergeant Betts looked up at James.

‘Why did you change your mind?’ asked Fitzjohn.

James could see in their faces what his sudden change in plans looked like.  ‘To be quite honest, Alex and I argued that evening.’

‘When?’

‘Shortly before the dinner started.’

‘I see.  And what did you argue about?’

‘A difference of opinion about a family matter.’  James shook his head.  ‘It wasn’t important.’

Fitzjohn’s eyes narrowed.  ‘But important enough for you to change your flight arrangements.’  James did not reply.

‘I’ll ask you again, Doctor.  What was the argument about?’

‘It was about Cragleigh.  A property in the Blue Mountains.  Alex and I own it jointly ... or at least we did.  Alex has been at me to agree to sell.’

‘Did he give a reason?’

‘Only that it stands empty since our parents moved to Port Macquarie.  He didn’t see the point of keeping it.’

‘But you didn’t agree.’

‘No.’

‘Did you usually get along with your brother other than this particular problem?’

‘No, not really.  We didn’t see eye to eye on many issues.’

Fitzjohn's left eyebrow rose.  ‘Must have been difficult working in the same department.’

‘At times, yes.’

‘Did you work closely together?’

‘On a couple of occasions.  Most recently this past summer.  We were involved in excavations around the city of Bourges in central France.  But usually, our research took us in opposite directions.  Alex’s interests were in Australian prehistoric archaeology and historical archaeology of the Sydney region, whereas mine are in the later prehistory of the western Mediterranean.’

‘I see.’  After a silence, Fitzjohn stood up.  ‘Right, I think we’ll leave it at that for the time being, Dr Wearing.’

Surprised, James got to his feet.

'We'll talk again,' Fitzjohn added.

James returned to his office and slammed the door, his hand shaking as he ran it through his hair.  He slumped down into his chair, aware of his tenuous situation.  When the phone rang, he hesitated before picking up the receiver.

‘James Wearing.’

‘Ah, James.  You are back.  Someone said they’d seen you in the building.  I want to offer my condolences.  This is a terrible thing that’s happened.’

‘Thanks, Tristan.’

‘Have the police spoken to you yet?’

‘Yes.’

‘A disconcerting experience, I know.  They’ve grilled everyone in the department.’

The contention that had existed between Alex and Tristan Harrow since their student days surfaced in James’s mind.  Was it possible their rivalry had pushed Tristan over the edge?  Could he have killed Alex?  Reluctant to share with Tristan what had transpired in the last hour, James did not reply.

‘Look, I realise you must be in shock but, with what’s happened, there’s been a number of changes I need to fill you in on.  Could you drop around to my office, say, in the next half hour?’

Reluctantly, James made his way to Tristan Harrow’s office.  As he raised his hand to knock, the door opened.

‘James.’

‘Simon?  Simon Rhodes?’

‘The very same.’

‘It’s been a long time.’  James took Simon’s outstretched hand and noticed he had not changed a great deal.  Now in his forties, his hair silver, he was still a lean wiry man with sharp features and steel-grey eyes.  ‘You’re the last person I expected to see.'

‘I’m sorry to hear about Alex.  He was a brilliant man.  If there’s anything I can do, James, please let me know.’

‘Thanks, Simon.’

At that moment, Tristan appeared in the doorway.  Simon glanced at his watch.  ‘Well, I have a meeting in a few minutes.  I’ll give you a call, James.  Perhaps we can have lunch.’

Tristan and James watched Simon disappear along the crowded hallway.  ‘I didn’t realise you’d kept in touch with Simon, said James.’

‘I didn’t.  He contacted me a few months ago when he came back to live in Sydney.  He’s shaken by what’s happened.  As you know, he and Alex were great friends when we were all students together.’

Tristan turned back into the room, his tall, slim frame, encased in a pair of brown corduroy trousers and a sloppy dark green jumper.  ‘Come in and have a seat.’

James closed the door and settled into one of the armchairs.  Tristan slumped in the one opposite, his thick, wavy brown hair falling across his forehead.  He pushed it back impatiently.

‘Simon seems to have done well for himself by all accounts.  He has a financial consultancy firm in North Sydney, but he’s also in the antique business.  I believe he’s opening a shop.’

James nodded.

‘Anyway, I didn’t ask you here to talk about Simon.  I wanted to let you know that I’ve been asked to take over Alex’s role as chair of the department until semester two as well as his role as Prehistoric and Historical Honours Coordinator.’  Tristan paused.  'Now, I know what you’re thinking and I admit, Alex and I had our differences from time to time, but I did have the highest regard for your brother.  I want to ask your assistance, James.  As you will no doubt realise, the added burden with all my own work will be tremendous.’

James stared at Tristan’s arrogant face and found himself fighting the urge to leave.  ‘Of course.’

Tristan half smiled.  ‘I knew I could depend on you.’  As James listened to Tristan’s immediate plans for the future, he decided not to tell him about the missing artefacts.  If Tristan had murdered Alex, chances were he already knew.  If not, then with Tristan’s attitude toward Alex, he may use the information to discredit him.

When their meeting ended, James left the building and, contrary to Fitzjohn’s request, made his way to the Australian Museum to see Edward Sommersby.  As he entered the foyer, he was met by the attendant on duty.

‘Hello, Dr Wearing.’

‘How’s it all going, Liam?’

‘Very well.  Very well indeed, sir, but I must offer you my condolences regarding your brother.’

‘Thanks, that’s very kind.’  Liam, probably in his sixties, James thought, had worked at the museum since his arrival from Ireland as a young man.

‘And what can we do for you today, sir?’

‘I dropped by to see Dr Sommersby.  Do you know if he’s in?’

‘Yes, in fact, he’s up there with Mr Rhodes.’  James turned to see Edward Sommersby on the landing of the marble staircase with Simon Rhodes.  A tall man, his dark brown hair combed back from his face, Edward cut an imposing figure.

‘Thanks, Liam.’

James waited until Simon had descended the stairs and left before he made his way over to Edward.  ‘James.’  James took Edward’s outstretched hand and felt his other hand on his elbow.  Edward’s eyes revealed a sincerity rarely seen.  ‘I’m so glad you came in.  I tried to contact you earlier this morning.  I wanted to say how sorry I am to hear about Alex.  He’ll be sadly missed.’

‘Thanks, Ed.  It’s been an alarming twenty-four hours.’

‘I can imagine.  Is there anything I can do?’

‘There is actually.  I need your advice on something and also I wanted to talk to you about the artefacts we borrowed through the museum.’

‘Oh, I realise you’ve probably had to postpone the open day.  Don’t worry about the artefacts, James.  I’ll make arrangements to have the loan extended.’

James shook his head.  ‘It’s not that, Ed.’

‘Oh?’

‘There’s a problem.  With the artefacts.’

Edward frowned.  ‘Right, then perhaps we’d better go to my office, where we won’t be disturbed.’