The Celtic Dagger (5 page)

CHAPTER 7

After a sleepless night, James rose early and made his way downstairs.  He grabbed his coat from the end of the banister and pulled it on.  As he did so, he noticed the painting on the hall table, all but forgotten after Fitzjohn’s visit.  He picked it up and left the house.

Half an hour later, he arrived at The Gallery to find Edwina Parker on the sidewalk fumbling with the door lock amidst the clamour of morning traffic. She looked up as he approached, her round face breaking into a wide smile when she saw him.

‘James, it’s good to see you.  My thoughts have been with you since I heard the news.’  Edwina frowned.  ‘I’m so sorry about Alex.’

‘Thanks, Edwina.’  James glanced at the door.  ‘Here, let me try that.’  James turned the key and shoved the door.  It swung open.

‘Thanks.  I go through this every morning but it’s my own fault.  I should call a locksmith.  Come in.’  Edwina switched the lights on and, with laboured breathing, made her way across the room to the desk in the corner, her large shape barely fitting into the chair.  She placed her handbag inside a desk drawer and waited for James to sit down.

‘I’m so glad you dropped by,' she said.  'I know this must be a difficult time.’

‘I’m not sure I’ve grasped what’s happened yet.  I suppose it’ll take a few days.’

Edwina nodded.  ‘Can I get you a cup of coffee?’

‘Thanks, but I can’t stay.  I just came by to ask whether you can recommend someone who could clean this painting for me.’  James handed the painting to Edwina.  ‘I found it last night in Louise’s studio.’

A smile crossed Edwina’s face.  ‘Oh, she must have decided to keep it.'

'You've seen it before?'

'Yes, here at the gallery.  When I didn't see it again, I assumed it'd been sold.'  Edwina paused.  'It's so beautiful I suppose she couldn't bear to part with it.'

'When was this, Edwina?'

'When you were in Cyprus.  Just before her death.  The day before, actually.  I remember because the next morning, she asked me if I'd come in and open the gallery while she went to the police station.'

'The police station?  Did she say why?'

Edwina shook her head.  'No, and I didn't want to appear nosey by asking.  Of course, it was while she was on her way there that she died.'  Edwina hesitated.  'I'm sorry, James.  The memory of that day still haunts me.'

'Don't be.  I'm only glad you were here for her, Edwina.'  James glanced around the room.  ‘Perhaps if I’d taken more interest and not gone to Cyprus she might still be alive.’

‘That’s something you’ll never know.’  Edwina paused.  ‘Put it to rest, James.  Make a new start.  Louise loved you and she wouldn’t want you to go through life feeling this guilt.’

James smiled.  ‘You’re the second person to say that to me this week.’

‘Then it must be the right advice.’

Edwina took a deep breath and picked up the painting again.  ‘Well, let’s take a closer look at this now, shall we?’  She put her glasses on and moved the desk lamp over the painting.  ‘It looks to be quite old.  Eighteenth century, I’d say, but even so, it looks in fine condition and once cleaned, the colours will be more vibrant and, hopefully, will reveal the artist’s name.’  Edwina took her glasses off and looked up at James, smiling.  ‘There’s a fellow here in Sydney I use.  Albert Gilmore.  Would you be happy for me to ask him to do it?’

‘Yes, of course.’

‘Then leave it with me and I’ll be in touch when it’s finished.’

James left the gallery and made his way to the university where the media presence, although smaller, still persisted.  He dodged passed them and into the building, where a constable stood on duty.  When he turned the corner in the hallway, he could see Vera Trenbath at the far end entering her office.  He found her at her desk.  ‘Vera, do you have a minute?  I'd like to speak to you.’

‘Yes, of course, James’.  An awkward silence followed, Vera’s usual loquaciousness absent.  ‘I’m sorry.  It’s just that it’s all been so dreadful.  I can’t think of what to say.’

Vera pushed her keyboard back from the edge of the desk and James sensed the insecurity Alex’s death had created in a woman whose life revolved around the department.  A lonely life, he suspected.

‘You don’t have to say anything, Vera.’

Vera nodded and gestured for James to sit down.

‘What will happen now, do you think, James?’

‘Well, Tristan Harrow will take over as chair of the department for the time being.’  Vera bristled.  ‘But other than that, I have no idea.'

Vera shuffled the papers in front of her and James could see the problems her contrary disposition and Tristan’s need to make his mark as chair may cause.  He paused, anxious to change the subject.

‘Have the police spoken to you yet?’

‘Yes.  Twice.  That’s why I wasn’t here yesterday afternoon.  They wanted to speak to me again.  At the station this time.  I didn’t come back to the office afterwards.  I felt too drained.’

‘I’m sure they appreciate your help, Vera.’

‘Well, I’ve tried, James, but it hasn’t been easy.  I found him, you see.’  Vera looked past James as if reliving the event.  ‘I knocked on the door and went into his office as I have many times in the last ten years and there he lay on the floor.’  Vera took her handkerchief from her pocket and dabbed her nose.  James sensed her anxiety but, at the same time, the excitement that Alex’s death had created in her otherwise humdrum life.

‘I’m sorry.  Here am I going on and he’s your brother after all.  If there’s anything I can do...’

‘There is actually.  I need to contact Ashley Manning.  Do you have a phone number for her?’

‘Yes, in fact, I got it out earlier this morning to give to that young police officer.’  Vera glanced at James.  ‘I imagine they want to ask her when she last spoke to Professor Wearing.  Of course, they could have asked me.  It was the afternoon before he died.  At about two o’clock.  Not her scheduled time slot, I might add.  Professor Wearing set aside specific hours in the day to see students.  But then that young woman never did keep to the rules.’  Vera flicked through her address index.

‘Her husband came, too, late that same afternoon,' she added.

‘Oh?  I was under the impression Ashley and her husband separated some time ago.’

Vera’s eyebrows rose.  ‘Well, I can’t say I know anything about her marital arrangements, but I do know Robert Manning works for Professor Wearing’s publisher.’

James nodded, surprised at the details Vera knew about people.  ‘I had no idea.’

‘I imagine he came about that second edition Professor Wearing was working on.’  Vera handed James a small card.  'Here it is, her address and telephone number.  Of course, you could try the museum.  She’ll be there until early this afternoon.’

‘Right, I might do that.’  James put the card in his coat pocket.  ‘Do you remember anyone else who came to see Alex before he died?’

Vera thought for a moment.  ‘He spoke to Dr. Harrow after lunch that day.  I saw them together in the corridor.  Oh, and Mr Rhodes came at about three.  He passed my door on his way.’

‘Simon Rhodes?’

‘Yes.  Very nice man.  Do you know him?’

‘Yes.  He was a student here many years ago.’

‘Oh.  I had no idea.  That must be why he and Professor Wearing were such good friends.’

James frowned.  ‘Did he come to see Alex often?’

‘He has of late.’

‘Did you tell the police?’

‘Of course.’  Vera frowned.  ‘Is there a problem, James?’

‘No, Vera.  I’m just surprised to see Simon back in Sydney after so many years.’

CHAPTER 8

James left Vera’s office, puzzled at her assertion that Simon Rhodes and Alex had been friends.  His recollection of their relationship in their student days was one of aversion.  Still, with time, perhaps they had patched up their differences.

James walked the ten minutes to Redfern Station and caught the train to Museum Station.  It was as he made his way along College Street that he saw Ashley Manning, a tall, elegant figure, her dark brown shoulder-length hair flying back from her face in the breeze.  As she crossed the street, James started to follow, then hesitated, still puzzled over her cool manner toward him the last time they had met.  Undecided, he waited for a moment before he continued.

Unsmiling, her face pale and anxious, she gave him a sideways glance as he fell into step beside her.

'Dr Wearing.'

'Hello, Ashley.  I wanted to catch you before you started work.  I need to ask you something.'

Ashley adjusted the scarf around her neck and started to hurry along the street.  ‘I’m sorry about your brother, Dr Wearing.  I shall miss him.’  James could hear the quiver in her voice.

‘Thanks.  I think we all will.’  They walked on in silence for a moment.  ‘As a matter of fact, it’s Alex I want to talk to you about.’

‘Oh?’

‘Yes.  You might not be aware but, recently, the department borrowed artefacts through the Australian Museum for the open day.’

‘Yes, I know.  I liaised with Miles Bennett on behalf of the Museum.  Is there a problem?’

‘They went missing on the day Alex died.'

Ashley stopped short.  'What!'

‘The dagger and ring have since been found, however.’

‘And the torque?’

James shook his head.

Ashley pushed her hair back as it blew across her face with the wind.  ‘What’s this got to do with Professor Wearing?’

‘I believe Alex removed the artefacts from Miles Bennett’s office and hadn’t returned them before events took over.’

‘You can’t think he stole them.’

‘No, I don’t, and that’s why I wanted to speak to you.  I wondered whether he’d said anything to you.  Given a reason perhaps.’  James could feel Ashley Manning’s unease.  She started to walk again and increased her stride.

‘Ashley, if you know something...’

Ashley Manning flew around.  ‘What makes you think Professor Wearing would say anything to me?  He was only my supervisor after all.’

Stunned by her sudden outburst, James hesitated.  ‘I just thought...’

‘Well you thought wrong.’  Ashley turned and ran up the museum steps.

‘It doesn’t do to argue with a beautiful woman, James.’  James turned to see Edward Sommersby at his side.

‘Hello, Ed.’  They both watched Ashley disappear through the main doors into the museum.  ‘I just wondered whether Alex had said anything to her about the artefacts.’

‘Didn’t sound like she appreciated the question.’

‘She didn’t.’

‘Anymore word on the investigation?’

‘Yes.  The police have identified the weapon that killed Alex.  It’s the Celtic dagger.’

Edward took a step back, his face grave.  ‘Found on your desk.’

‘Yes.

In his office later that day, James sat back in his chair, unable to concentrate any longer on the pile of essays he was working on.  With the dagger found to be the murder weapon, the police would think his involvement in Alex's death even more plausible.  He turned his desk lamp off and gathered the essays together.  As he did so, he heard a knock on the door.  It opened and Catherine appeared.

‘I’m sorry to arrive at this hour, James, but I need to speak to you.’

James got up and walked over to her.  ‘Don’t be.  I’m glad you’re here.’  He put his hands on the upper part of her arms and looked into her blue eyes.  ‘Are you feeling any better?’

‘A little.  I took a tour group through the museum today.  I’m so glad of that job now.  It’s a good distraction.’  Catherine took off her scarf and black woollen coat, handed them to him and looked over the room.  ‘I don’t know how you work in here, James.  It’s no bigger than a cupboard.  Why don’t you put in a request to be moved to a larger office?’

James laughed.  ‘There’s not much chance of that with Tristan Harrow at the helm.’

Catherine wheeled around.  ‘You’re not serious.’

His eyebrows rose and he smiled.  ‘I am.’

‘Well, all I can say is, he didn’t waste much time.  Always did covet whatever Alexander did.’

Catherine sat down on one of the two chairs in front of James’s desk and put her handbag on the other.  ‘The police came to see me again. They said they’d found the weapon that killed Alexander.  That dagger you spoke of.’  She paused.  ‘Did they speak to you about it?’

‘Yes, last night.’

Catherine nodded.  ‘They didn’t tell me where they found it and I didn’t ask.’

Aware of Catherine’s unease, James wondered whether to tell her, but then decided against it.  What purpose would it serve for her to know the police suspected him?  ‘I imagine they keep those details confidential during the investigation.’

‘I suppose you’re right.’  Catherine smoothed her skirt.  ‘They also wanted to look through the house.  I didn’t object.  After all, I did find the ring in Alexander’s study.  I suppose they were looking for that other artefact you mentioned.  What was it?’

‘A torque.  A type of necklace.’

Catherine nodded.  ‘Well, they didn’t find anything, of course, but I suppose it’s all part of their investigation.’  She shook her head.  ‘Where will this all end?’

James sensed Catherine’s despondence.  ‘What did you want to talk to me about, Catherine?’

‘Oh, yes.  I’d almost forgotten.  I can’t seem to think straight lately.’  She reached into her handbag and brought out three envelopes.  ‘I’ve started going through the mail that’s been piling up over the past few days, and these letters were amongst them.  They’re from a bank and two finance companies.  They all claim Alexander took out loans.  It’s ridiculous, of course.  There must be some mistake.  As you know, your grandfather left the house to Alexander in his will.  We’ve never needed a mortgage.’

Catherine handed James the letters.  As he read them, his expression became grave.  ‘Well, according to this letter from the bank, there is a mortgage on the house now, and these papers from the finance companies look genuine enough.  Didn’t Alex mention this to you?’

‘No, he took care of all the finances.  We never discussed such matters.’

James frowned.  ‘So, you wouldn’t know if he was in financial difficulty?’

‘No, but I can’t imagine it can you?  He was always so careful with money.  You could even say stingy at times.’  Catherine smiled.  ‘Come on.  Don’t tell me that comes as a surprise.  You know as well as I do that Alexander liked to be in control.  As far as he was concerned, there was no reason to discuss finances with me.’  She shook her head.  ‘I know what you’re going to say.  I shouldn’t have let him get away with that sort of behaviour, but there you are.  I suppose it was easier for me to let it go.  Now, of course, it adds to my problems, but it’s my own fault.’

James handed the letters back.

Catherine said, ‘Tomorrow I’ll contact the bank and the finance companies and find out what’s going on.’

‘I’ll be happy to come with you.’

‘That’s kind, but I must start to do these things for myself.’  Catherine looked at the pile of papers on James’s desk.  ‘Look, I’m going to leave you in peace.  I can see you’re busy.'

‘I’ll walk out with you,' James replied.  'I’ve had enough for one day.’