The Celtic Dagger (7 page)

James took the card and seized the opportunity to find out more about Simon and his relationship with Alex.

‘As a matter of fact, I’ve been wondering what to do with a bit of money I have invested.’

‘Well, why don’t you drop around to my office tomorrow afternoon?  Perhaps I can help.’

'Excuse me, Dr Wearing.'  James turned to see Eve Lawrence at his side.  'Your father wishes to speak to you in the study.’

‘Is he all right?’

‘Just a little tired, I believe.’

James turned to Simon.  ‘Will you excuse me, Simon?’

‘Yes, of course.  ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’

The hum of voices died away as James made his way through the house to the study.  He found his father sat in the armchair behind the door, his mother perched on its arm.  She looked up when he came into the room.

‘Ah, James, I think it’s time we left.  Your father’s very tired.  I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t be.  People are starting to leave.  I’ll just have a word with Catherine, and then we’ll be on our way.’  James left the study and went back into the living room where he could see Catherine talking to Simon Rhodes.  He crossed the room toward her as Simon moved away.

‘Catherine, I’m afraid we’re going to have to make a move.  Dad’s very tired.’

‘Oh, of course.  I’m sorry.  I feel I’ve neglected them today.’

‘I’m sure you haven’t.’  They walked out of the living room and into the front hall.  ‘I saw you speaking to Simon Rhodes,' James added.  'I didn’t know whether you’d remember him.’

‘How could I forget?  He came to my sister Rosemary’s funeral.’  Catherine paused.  ‘But we’ve met since then.  He dropped by to see Alexander a few times.’

‘Oh?’

‘Yes, something to do with antiques, I think.’

CHAPTER 11

When he reached 60 Miller Street in North Sydney, James entered the building and walked over to the notice board beside the elevator. 
Rhodes & Associates
, in large gold letters, stood out behind the glass.  He took the elevator to the first floor and walked along until he found Simon's office.  Its door was ajar.  He pushed it open and walked in to find a windowless room, the only furniture a reception desk and several chairs placed around the walls.  Another door next to the desk opened and Simon appeared, dressed in a dark grey business suit with a maroon tie and handkerchief in the upper pocket.  With his hair perfectly trimmed and his fingernails neatly manicured, he looked the epitome of order and control.

‘James, I thought that must be you.’  James shook Simon’s hand.  ‘Come through.’  James followed Simon into a large office, its windows overlooking the street below.  ‘You didn’t have any trouble finding the place, I hope.’

‘No, none at all.’  James sat down on one of the two green leather bound chairs in front of Simon’s desk.  ‘It’s good of you to see me at such short notice, Simon.’

‘I’m pleased to help in any way I can.  I know it must be a difficult time.  I suppose Alex’s work will stop now.’

James opened his briefcase and took out a folder while Simon sat back, his hands clasped together, his elbows resting on the arms of his chair.  ‘No.’  James cleared his throat.  ‘Tristan Harrow has stepped in to take over some of Alex's duties, so we’ll continue on.  It’s what Alex would have wanted.’

‘Yes, I’m sure he would.  He was a dedicated man, your brother.  How’s everything else going?  With the investigation, I mean.’

‘There’s been no word for the past few days, but I’m sure the police are doing their best.’

James looked into Simon’s cold, grey eyes and wondered, again, why he had contacted Alex after so many years and what the reason was for his visit the day Alex died.  ‘You say you spoke to Alex the day he died.  How did he seem at the time?’

Simon shifted in his chair.  ‘In fine spirits.  He’d asked me to drop by for much the same reason you’re here now.  His finances.  We really didn’t talk about anything else, other than the weather.  I didn’t stay long.  He was pressed for time that afternoon because of the dinner that evening.’  Simon shook his head.  ‘I still find it hard to believe.  We all, I suppose, take life for granted to a certain extent.’

'We do.'

James looked at his watch.  ‘It’s getting late, Simon, and I don’t want to keep you.’  He passed the folder across the desk.  Simon sat forward, moved the papers in front of him to one side and opened it.  ‘I have the whole amount invested in shares, but I’ve decided I’d like to break it up.  You might have a few ideas.’

Simon looked up.  ‘Well, I think you have the right idea.  What I might suggest is that you invest in two or three different ventures, perhaps in a managed fund, shares and property.  I have a couple of brochures here you might like to take away with you to have a look at.’  Simon opened his desk drawer, brought out the brochures and handed them to James.  ‘Why don’t we meet for lunch tomorrow?' he went on.  'In the meantime, I’ll see what I can come up with.’

‘Sounds good.’

James left Simon’s office and took the elevator back down to the foyer.  He stood in the entrance and looked out onto Miller Street where a soft rain now fell in the early evening light.  Simon’s reason for seeing Alex seemed plausible enough.  Alex, he knew, had always taken professional advice about his financial investments.  Could it be that Alex and Simon had found common ground in which to communicate?  James opened his briefcase and took out his umbrella, a feeling of doubt mixed with cynicism lingering in his mind.  He pushed the button on the handle of the umbrella and, as it unfurled, stepped out into the rain and walked down to Blue Street and the North Sydney train station.

Fifteen minutes later, he arrived at Redfern and walked on to the university.  At the library, he collected the books he had ordered earlier in the day, made his way to one of the tables alongside the windows and peeled off his damp overcoat.

‘Dr. Wearing?’  James looked up to see, Ashley Manning, her hair dampened by the rain, her face white.

‘Ashley.’  Ashley’s body swayed.  James lurched forward and pulled out a chair.  ‘Here, you’d better sit down.  I’ll get you some water.’

‘No.  It’s all right.  I’ll be fine.’  James sat back down.  ‘I just took a chance you’d be here.’

‘Oh?’

‘Yes, I...  I wanted to tell you...’  She paused and James could sense her disquiet.  ‘That is, I want to apologise for the other day.  I don’t know what came over me.’  Ashley paused again.  ‘It’s just that since Professor Wearing’s death, things haven’t been going too well, and you took me unawares.’

‘Don’t worry about it.  I shouldn’t have persisted as I did.  It was stupid of me.  I realise that if you knew anything at all that would help, you’d have said.’

‘Yes, of course.  Have you had any luck in finding the torque?’

Puzzled at Ashley’s change in temperament toward him, James decided to follow Fitzjohn’s advice not to discuss the investigation.  ‘I’ve had no word from the police.’

Ashley nodded.  ‘Well, if there’s anything I can do to help.’  She reached into her pocket.  ‘I’ll leave you my phone number.’  She handed James a card as she got to her feet.

James put the card down on his briefcase.  ‘Are you sure you’ll be all right?’

‘Yes.  I’m just a bit tired that’s all.  Night, Dr Wearing.’

‘Oh, before you go Ashley, I did mean to talk to you about your PhD supervisor and to let you know I’d be happy to take over.’  James sensed Ashley’s hesitation.  ‘You don’t have to give me your decision right away, of course.’

‘Actually, that would be great.  I’m anxious to get my thesis finished, and I do have a few problems with it at the moment.’

‘Well then, I'll mention it to Vera Trenbath.  Why don’t you drop around to my office in the morning?  Shall we say at ten?’  Ashley nodded.  ‘In the meantime, I have a book with me that you might find useful.’  James opened his briefcase.  He moved aside the two brochures Simon had given to him earlier, took out the book and handed it to Ashley.

As he watched Ashley leave the library, he felt convinced she had come to tell him something, but changed her mind.  What was it?

With this playing on his mind, James gathered his papers together and put them in his briefcase.  As he did so, a card, addressed to Simon Rhodes, dropped out from the brochures:  ‘You are cordially invited to a Reception at The Gallery.’  James made a mental note to give the invitation back to Simon when they met for lunch the following day.

When he reached Cross Street in Double Bay, James found a parking space in front of the restaurant and climbed out.  As he did so, he saw Simon emerge from a shop across the street.  The sign that hung next to the front door swayed back and forth with the wind.  It read, ‘Rhodes Antiques’.

Simon noticed James at once and called out to him.

James smiled, ‘Simon.  Tristan mentioned you’d opened an antiques shop but didn’t say where.’

Simon turned and looked back at the shop.  ‘Yes, we had our grand opening last week.  I’m more than happy.  It’s all gone well so far.’  Simon turned back to James and smiled.  ‘Well, shall we?’  Simon led the way into the restaurant, where they were shown to a table overlooking the street.  The waiter appeared with the wine list and two menus.

‘I had no idea you were interested in antiques, Simon.’

‘I would have to say my ex-wife introduced me.  She was in the business when we met.  We opened the South Yarra shop together and so it went on from there.  Became my passion, you might say.’  The waiter returned and Simon ordered a bottle of Shiraz.  ‘I’m hoping this venture will be successful enough for me to eventually close my financial consultancy business so I can concentrate all my efforts in one direction.  But, for now, it’s a safety net.’

‘Sounds like a wise move.  Oh, before I forget.  I found this among the brochures you gave me yesterday.’  James passed Simon the invitation for The Gallery reception.

Simon's brow furrowed.  ‘Oh, I was looking for this.  I must have slipped it into my desk drawer with everything else.  Thanks, James.  I like to attend these functions.  Keeps me abreast with what’s going on in the art world.’  Simon put the invitation into his inside coat pocket and at the same time, brought out an envelope.  He handed it to James.  ‘And this is for you.  It gives you several options for your investments.  Go through it and let me know how you feel.  I can do the work for you if you wish or, alternatively, if you’d like to do it yourself, you’ll find all the information you need.’

‘Thanks.  I really appreciate it.’

The waiter returned with the wine, served it and took their orders.  ‘Are you interested in antiques, James?’

‘Not particularly.  I have a few pieces left to me by my grandparents, but that’s about as far as it goes.’  James took a sip of his wine.  ‘Alex, of course, was always a keen collector.  Particularly porcelain.’

‘Yes, I’ve seen his collection.  Had a good eye, did your brother.  When I lived in Melbourne, he contacted me on many occasions when he wanted me to bid on an item for him.’

A look of surprise crossed James’s face.  ‘Alex never said but, then, he wasn’t one to elaborate on his activities.’

‘Well, the arrangement worked well.  If I saw anything I thought he’d be interested in, I contacted him.’  Simon paused.  ‘I shall miss him.’

James arrived at his office early the next morning, anxious to speak again with Ashley Manning to try to find out why she had really come to see him at the library the previous evening.  As he sat down at his desk, Vera Trenbath’s head came around the side of the door. 

‘Oh, Vera, I'm glad you've dropped by.  I wanted to let you know that I've spoken to Ashley Manning about her new supervisor.'

James sensed Vera's annoyance at not being included in the decision.

'So she said when she rang this morning.'  Vera paused.  'She also said she can't keep her appointment with you.'

James frowned.  ‘Did she say why?’

‘No.’

‘I see.’

As Vera’s head disappeared, James reached in his pocket for the card Ashley had given him the night before and dialled the Museum number.

‘Good morning, Moira Trappard speaking.’

‘Oh, I’m sorry.  I must have dialled the wrong number.  I’m trying to reach Ashley Manning.’

‘You have the right number, sir, but I’m afraid Ashley isn’t here.  I’m filling in for her.  Can I help you?’

‘Do you have any idea when she’ll be back?’

‘A couple of days, she said.  Can I give her a message?’

‘No.  I’ll ring back.’

James hung up the telephone, puzzled at Ashley’s sudden departure.

CHAPTER 12

James made his way to Alex’s office where he found Vera Trenbath in the open doorway.  ‘I thought you might like some help packing everything up, James.’

‘There’s no need, Vera.  I realise how difficult it must be for you to go back in there.’  James joined her, on the threshold, not anxious himself to enter.

‘Well, perhaps it’s best I do.’  Vera smiled.  ‘I’m sure I’ll be fine once we get started.’  As they walked in, James noticed Vera’s eyes go to the floor beside the desk where Alex's body had been found.  He sensed her distress.

‘I think a bit of fresh air would help, don’t you?’  He crossed the floor, opened the blind, and reached up to free the window latch.  As the window swung open, the sound of rain hitting the drainpipe filled the room.  At that same time, the attendant appeared in the doorway.

“I’ve brought up a trolley and some boxes, Vera.  Can I give you a hand?’

‘Thanks, Richard, but I’m sure we can manage.  I’ll let you know when we’re finished and perhaps you can then help Dr Wearing take the boxes out to the car.'

When Richard left, Vera turned back into the room.  ‘It’s so hard to believe.  All the years that Professor Wearing spent in this room, and everything is just as he left it.  It’s almost as though he might walk in at any moment.’

James looked at Alex’s undisturbed desk.  His pens still lay on the gold stationary holder, his coffee cup beside his computer.  Vera was right.  Life could change in an instant without any visible signs that you were gone.

‘Apparently, Tristan Harrow plans to move in here,’ Vera said.  James looked to where Vera stood taking books from the shelves behind the desk.

‘He does?’

‘Yes.’  Vera struggled with the books.  ‘He came to see me last night just as I was about to leave and asked if I knew when the room would be free.’

‘Here, let me take those for you.’  James took the books and put them into the box at Vera’s feet.

Vera shook her head.  ‘I didn't tell him, of course.  Such an insensitive man.’

‘Well, perhaps it’s not a bad thing.  Probably best if the room doesn’t remain empty for too long.  It might help us all move on.’

James sat down at the desk and pulled out the drawers.  The contents were in meticulous order.  ‘You won’t find a thing out of place in there,’ said Vera.

‘I’m not surprised.  Alex was like that even when we were children.’

Eve Lawrence answered the door when he arrived at Catherine’s house later that morning.  ‘Mrs Wearing said to expect you, Doctor.’  She held the door open while James carried the boxes inside and through to Alex’s study.  When he had finished, Eve closed the study door.  ‘You’ll find Mrs Wearing in the living room.’

Eve disappeared in the direction of the kitchen, while James opened the living room door.  He found Catherine sat on the sofa, adjacent to the fireplace, opening mail that covered the coffee table in front of her.  She was dressed in black slacks and a pale green jumper that highlighted her blonde shoulder-length hair and blue eyes.  She looked up to see his tall shape in the doorway.

‘Oh, James.  You gave me a start.  I didn’t realise you’d arrived.  Come and sit down.’

James closed the door behind him.  ‘I’ve put Alex’s books and papers in the study.  You can let me know later what you want done with them.’

Catherine put the letter opener down.  ‘Thanks so much for doing that, James.  I couldn’t face going to his office.’

James settled himself in an armchair and smiled at Catherine.  ‘You seem in better spirits.  Good news from the bank?’

‘No.  In fact, I found out there’s a sizeable mortgage over the house and two personal loans to be paid.  But the shock’s worn off and I think I’ve come to grips with it.’  The strain was noticeable in her eyes and he could tell she was making an effort to sound optimistic.  ‘I’ve given it a lot of thought, James.  I have money put aside that my parents left me.  I know it’ll be enough to pay off the two loans.  The mortgage, however, is another matter, so I’ve decided to sell the house.  That will pay the mortgage, and I should have enough left over to buy a modest flat.’

‘But you can’t sell the house.'  James grimaced.  'This is your home.’

‘I’m being realistic.  There’s no other way.’

James’s eyes took in the room, its walls adorned with paintings and photographs, many, from an era long past.  He rose from his chair, and walked to the window that overlooked the garden.  As he did so, he ran his finger along the edge of his grandmother’s desk.  It had sat in that spot for over half a century.  ‘Don’t sell just yet, Catherine.  I’ll think of something.’

Catherine frowned.  ‘It would only be delaying the inevitable, James.’

James sat down again.  ‘Even so, I think we should make an effort to find out why Alex took out the loans.’

‘But even if we do, I’ll still have to sell.’  Catherine sighed.

‘I think we should try.’

Catherine sighed.  'Very well.  How do we go about it?’

‘We’ll go through all Alex’s papers.  There has to be some reference or clue as to why he borrowed the money.  We just have to find it.’

They sat in silence until Catherine said, ‘I can’t see how Alexander could be in debt to this extent.  He wasn’t a frivolous man.’

‘No, he wasn’t.  But then he may not have been in debt.’

‘What are you suggesting?  Blackmail?’

‘It’s possible.  Alex borrowed a huge amount of money and three artefacts went missing, one of which you found in his study.  I think you’d agree it seems a bit strange.’

‘Yes, it does and none of it fits with his character.’

‘Did you know he wanted me to agree to sell Cragleigh?’

Catherine stared at James.  ‘No.  Why would he want that?  He loved that place!’  She paused.  ‘It’s obvious, isn’t it?  He was trying to raise money.’

‘I believe so.’

James studied Catherine’s face and remembered the first time they had met.  It had been at Rosemary’s funeral twenty-five years earlier.  An undergraduate in the same year as Alex and Simon, Rosemary had died in a car accident one night while driving back to the University of Sydney from a party.  James had accompanied Alex and Simon to the funeral.  Catherine was younger than Rosemary and of a quieter nature and James had been attracted to her at once, but so had Alex.  Over the next year, he had watched Alex pursue Catherine until she agreed to marry him.  He remembered her at the time as bright, energetic and happy but, over the years, she had changed.  Now he believed it was because of her marriage to Alex.  Not a happy one, he suspected.  He looked back, and wondered how things might have been if
he
had married, Catherine, then dismissed the thought.

‘Would you mind if I came by early tomorrow?  It’s Saturday and I can spend the whole day going through all Alex’s papers.’

‘All right.  If you think it will help.’

‘We have to try, Catherine.’

‘I know you’re right.’  Catherine sighed.

‘Did you speak to Eve about the days leading up to Alex’s death?’

‘No.  I never thought to.  The police spoke to her, of course, but then she went away to her sister’s.’

‘Well, I think it might be a good idea.’

They both looked around as Eve bustled into the room with a tray.  ‘I’ve brought you some morning tea,’ she said, putting the tray on the coffee table before turning to leave.

‘Before you go, Eve,' said James.  'Do you remember anything unusual happening in the days prior to Professor Wearing’s death?’

A look of perplexity crossed Eve’s face.  ‘Depends what you mean by unusual, Doctor.  I remember thinking it odd when Professor Wearing asked me not to go in and clean his study.  He’d never done that before.  But then you never know, he might have been working on a manuscript and didn’t want his papers disturbed.’

James looked at Catherine, who frowned.  ‘He didn’t mention anything to me about writing a manuscript, but then that’s not unusual,’ she said.

James looked back at Eve.  ‘Anything else?’

‘No, I don't think so.  Just the usual phone calls.  Oh, and yes, Dr Spender rang two or three times as I remember, and Dr Harrow also called.  I believe he and Professor Wearing planned to have lunch together the next day.’

James frowned.  ‘Did Dr Harrow telephone often?’

‘No.  I can’t remember the last time.’

‘And the Dr Spender you mentioned?’

‘Patrick Spender.  He rang quite often.  I believe he and Professor Wearing were working on something together.’

James’s brow furrowed.  ‘I can’t say I’ve ever heard of a Patrick Spender.’  He looked at Catherine.

‘Alexander never spoke of him to me.’

'Do you know where he's from Eve?'

‘I'm sorry.  I've no idea, Dr Wearing.'  Eve, somewhat bewildered, left the room.

Catherine sat back in her chair.  ‘I imagine you’ll find mention of him when you go through Alexander’s papers.  Will you stay for lunch, James?’

‘I’d love to, but I can’t.  I’ve got a group of students coming to see me at eleven.’  James looked at his watch.  ‘I’d better get a move on.’

‘I’ll see you out.’

‘And I’ll see you first thing in the morning.’

They left the living room and walked through the house to the front door where James pulled on his overcoat.

‘I’m surprised to hear Tristan and Alex arranged to have lunch together,' James commented.  'I didn’t think they got on that well.’

‘Alexander disliked Tristan intensely.  I can’t imagine why he would agree to luncheon with him.’

James arrived early at Catherine’s the next morning.  He rang the doorbell and waited.  When the door opened, Catherine was standing in bare feet and dressing gown, with eyes half closed.  ‘James, what on earth’s the time?  Come in.  I’ll make coffee and bring it to you in the study.’  She turned and walked down the hall toward the kitchen.

James opened the door into the darkened study and walked in.  After drawing back the curtains, he looked across to the boxes from Alex’s office in the far corner of the room and sighed.  The top six, he knew, contained Alex’s papers.  The others held books.  He decided to tackle them when he had finished going through everything else in the room.  Catherine came in with two steaming mugs of coffee. ‘I really appreciate this, James.  What can I do?’

‘Nothing at the moment,’ said James, looking around.

‘All right, in that case I have a bit of shopping to do, but I shan’t be long and I’ll be back in time to make lunch.  Eve spent the night at her sister’s.  She won’t be home till this evening, so you won’t be disturbed.’

By midday, James had gone through all the papers in the filing cabinets and desk, but found nothing relating to the money Alex had borrowed or any reference to Dr Spender.  Surely, if they were collaborating on a project, Alex would have had paperwork.  At that moment, he heard the front door bang and Catherine’s voice from the hall.

‘How’s it going?’  Catherine came into the room.  ‘Any luck?’

‘No, nothing.  I’ve still got the boxes to go through, though.’

‘Well, have a break for a while.  I’ll make lunch.’

Later that afternoon, James left the study and made his way to the kitchen where the smell of fresh brewed coffee permeated the air.  Catherine looked around as he came in.  ‘Oh, there you are, James.  I was just about to call you.’  James sat down at the table.  ‘You look tired.’

‘Mmm.  I feel it.’

‘Well, this might help.’  Catherine handed him a mug of coffee.

‘Have you had any luck?

James shook his head.  ‘I can’t understand it.  There’s no mention of a Dr Spender or any paperwork relating to the mortgage or the personal loans.  The only thing I found was this.’  James placed a sheet of paper on the table.  Catherine sat down.

‘Why, it’s an advertisement for the sale of Cragleigh.  And all before you’d even agreed to sell.’

‘Seems Alex wasn’t going to take no for an answer.’  James paused.  ‘The only other thing I found was a couple of days crossed off in his diary.’  He opened the black leather-bound book on the table.  ‘Have you any idea where Alex went on these dates?’

Catherine stared at the page.  ‘No.’  She glanced at James.  ‘I’m sorry, you must think I’m being unhelpful but, as I’ve mentioned before, Alexander and I didn’t communicate well.  He wouldn’t have bothered to tell me where he was going, and I wouldn’t have asked.’

‘Well, that’s it, then.'  James closed the diary.  'I’ve gone through everything.  I don’t know what else we can do.'

James drove home disappointed.  The only thing he was able to question from all he had looked through were the two days marked off in Alex's diary.  He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as he waited at the lights.  Why was there no record of Alex's communications with Dr Spender?