Lane's End (12 page)

Fitzjohn flicked through the papers on his desk. ‘For a start, Amanda Marsh’s recollections about the day Rachael died, match that of Sebastian Newberry. Secondly, if there was a problem between Amanda and Rachael, there’s been no hint of it from those we’ve spoken to. Even Newberry’s relationship with Rachael appears to have been that of true friendship. Henry Beaumont, of course, remains an enigma. All we know about him is that he was, presumably, a good gardener.  According to Amanda Marsh, that is.

‘Well, if Rachael’s death was foul play, sir, there were only three people who saw her alone that day. Amanda, Newberry and Henry Beaumont, and it seems to me that they each had the opportunity and the means to kill her. Beaumont, in particular. He had ample time to be alone with her that morning while she was painting at the cottage, and let’s not forget, he disappeared after she was found to be missing.’

‘But why, Betts? What motive would he have to kill her? Come to that, what motive would any of them have had?’

‘Maybe we’re reading too much into it, sir. Maybe she did jump or accidentally slip.’

‘It still doesn’t explain why Henry packed up and left that day. Unless, of course, it was foul play and he knew the perpetrator. If that was the case, whoever that person was must have had something on Henry Beaumont to cause him to leave. See what you can find out about him, Betts.’

‘Excuse me, Chief Inspector.’ Fitzjohn and Betts looked around to see the Duty Officer standing in the doorway. ‘There’s a Mr Ben Carmichael here to see you.’

Fitzjohn glanced at Betts who went to stand next to the filing cabinet. ‘Thank you, Sergeant. You can show him in.’

‘He must be here about his fiancée,’ said Betts.’

‘Mmm. I dare say he is. There’s been no new development on that as yet, has there?’

‘No, sir. I spoke to DCI Roberts only this morning.’

‘Then we’ll have to disappoint him, I’m afraid.’

‘Mr Carmichael,’ said Fitzjohn as Ben appeared in the doorway. ‘Please, come in and have a seat. I’m afraid there’s no news as yet on your fiancée’s attacker.’

‘Actually, I’m not here about that, Chief Inspector. I wanted to speak to you about another matter. It’s concerning Peter Van Goren.’ Ben Carmichael settled himself into a chair. ‘To come straight to the point, I’ve just learnt that he made me a beneficiary in his will.’ Ben looked at Fitzjohn. ‘You probably think that I’ve been lying to you all along about our relationship, but I haven’t. I didn’t know the man.’

‘Even so, you have to agree that it’s unusual for someone to leave their estate to a total stranger,’ replied Fitzjohn.’

‘I agree, and I can’t think why he did it.’ Ben paused. ‘I’d hate you to think that my father was involved in some way.’

‘We can’t discount it.’

‘That’s what I was afraid of.’ Ben shook his head. ‘You didn’t know my father, Chief Inspector. He was a decent, hard-working man. He didn’t kill Peter Van Goren.’

‘We’re not saying he did, but we are of the opinion that your father knew him. How, we don’t know, but we will find out. If you know anything, anything at all, I do urge you to come forward with that information.’ Fitzjohn paused for a moment before he continued. ‘We understand you were quite young when your mother died, Mr Carmichael.’

Ben hesitated as if taken aback by the sudden change in subject. ‘Yes. I was six at the time.’

‘Do you remember what happened on that day?’

‘Up until the day I found Emma at Lane’s End, I didn’t remember much about it at all.’

‘And since?’ asked Fitzjohn.

‘Since then I’ve remembered a few things.’

‘Like what?’

‘Like the fact that we had a gardener. I now remember him meeting us and helping with the bags when we arrived. It sounds ridiculous but I’d forgotten all about him.’

‘It’s not surprising,’ said Fitzjohn. ‘After all, it must have been a confusing and traumatic day for you. Can you tell us anything about the man?’

Ben smiled as if to himself. ‘Only that he had a lot of time for me. He let me follow him around while he worked.’ Ben’s brow wrinkled. ‘I also remember asking him where he was going the day he left.’ Ben paused. ‘There were tears in his eyes.’

‘You saw him leave?’ asked Fitzjohn.

‘Yes.’

‘Did you tell anyone?’

‘I don’t know. All I remember is being driven back home to Mosman and wondering why we weren’t staying for the weekend like we’d planned. And wondering why my mother wasn’t with us. My questions remained unanswered. The rest is a blank.’

Fitzjohn studied Ben Carmichael’s face before he continued. ‘If you do think of anything else about that day, Mr Carmichael, will you come and see us?’

‘Yes, of course.’ Ben met Fitzjohn’s intent gaze. ‘Why is that day so important, Chief Inspector?’

‘It may not be, Mr Carmichael, but we can’t dismiss anything at this point in our investigation.’

‘Then perhaps I should tell you that Lane’s End has been left to me in my father’s will.’

‘I see. Well, in light of that fact, can I ask whether selling the property is part of your plan? Because if it is, we’d ask that you delay putting it on the market until our investigation is complete.’

‘I have no plans. Not at this stage.’ Ben Carmichael met Fitzjohn’s. ‘Does this mean that you think Lane’s End has something to do with Peter Van Goren’s death?’

‘As I mentioned earlier,’ replied Fitzjohn. ‘We can’t discount anything.’

CHAPTER 15

Under a blanket of low dark cloud and with dawn breaking, the taxi wended its way through the streets of Sydney’s CBD. Fitzjohn gazed out of the rain splattered window, his thoughts a mixture of Rhonda Butler’s threat of Council action against his beloved greenhouse, and the mystery surrounding Peter Van Goren’s true identity. When the taxi pulled up in front of Day Street Police Station, he climbed out, and holding his morning paper above his head, raced inside. Amid the hubbub, he made his way to his office where he placed his wet briefcase down before tossing the sodden newspaper onto the desk. As he did so, the door opened and Betts walked into the room, a certain sense of satisfaction across his face.

‘Morning, Betts,’ said Fitzjohn, turning around. ‘You look particularly cheery for such a wet morning. Why’s that?’

‘I have news about Peter Van Goren, sir.’

‘Oh?’ Fitzjohn grabbed the paper and tried to extract the crossword section. ‘What sort of news?’

‘Ida Clegg contacted me last night after you’d left, and before our search warrant had come through from the Magistrate’s office. She said she’d been going through Mr Van Goren’s belongings and had come across a couple of items she thought we should see. One of them was a merchant seaman’s card in the name of Henry Beaumont.’ The newspaper fell from Fitzjohn’s hands. ‘And that’s not all, sir. Mrs Clegg also found an envelope containing x-rays, taken at Mona Vale Hospital in 1982. Of a leg! They’re in the name of Henry Beaumont.’

‘So, what you’re saying is that Van Goren and Henry Beaumont are one and the same person.’ Fitzjohn sat down heavily into his chair.

‘Yes,’ replied Betts. ‘I checked with the hospital archive records. They confirmed that at the time of admission, Mr Beaumont was employed as a gardener at Lane’s End. It’s all there, sir. How he injured his leg while using a lawn mower on a hillside at his place of employment, Lane’s End, as well as his medical expenses being paid by his employer, Richard Carmichael.’

‘That’s all well and good, Betts, but we’ll need more proof than the fact that these x-rays were found at Van Goren’s residence.’

‘We have that too, sir. Comparing the records of Henry Beaumont to those of Peter Van Goren at the morgue - blood group, everything. It all matches!’ Betts smiled.

‘Well done. I’m impressed. Finally, we have a positive connection between Van Goren and the Carmichael family.’ Fitzjohn swung his chair back and forth. ‘Who would have thought? Van Goren, alias Henry Beaumont, knew Richard Carmichael because he’d worked as the family’s gardener. But what was his reason for attending the cocktail party, I wonder? That’s the next question.’

‘Now we know who Van Goren really was, I’d say it was something to do with Rachael’s death,’ replied Betts. ‘After all, if we go back thirty years to September 1983, we know that Henry disappeared without trace the day she fell from the cliff. That gave rise to the suspicion that he might have been involved in her death. Fast forward to March 2013, Henry, now known as Peter Van Goren, attends the cocktail party at the Observatory after being told, that afternoon, he had a matter of weeks to live. Maybe the fact he’d absconded that day prompted him to seek out Richard Carmichael to either admit or deny his involvement. Not to mention the fact that if he wasn’t responsible, he might have known who was.’

‘So, we can surmise that if he was there to tell Richard Carmichael that he was responsible, that admission alone would have given Richard Carmichael a motive to kill Van Goren,’ said Fitzjohn. ‘On the other hand, if Van Goren was there to deny perpetrating such a heinous act, it might have been the catalyst for Carmichael’s collapse, and subsequent heart attack. The confusion that followed his collapse would have allowed the killer ample time to ensure Van Goren couldn’t tell anyone else. But if that was the case, Betts, who was it?’

‘I think Sebastian Newberry and Amanda Marsh are the most likely suspects, sir. They were the only two people at the function who were also at Lane’s End when Rachael died.’

‘True, if we’re connecting Rachael’s death with Van Goren’s.’ Fitzjohn thought for a moment. ‘Could there have been someone else at Lane’s End the day Rachael died that we don’t know about?’

‘If there was, surely the housekeeper or Newberry would have known.’

‘Not necessarily. Remember, Lane’s End is a big place. There might be another way of getting to Ivy Cottage without passing by the main house.’

‘I’ll see what I can find out, sir.’

‘Do that, because now we know Peter Van Goren’s true identity, it begs belief that none of the guests at that cocktail party who had known Henry Beaumont, didn’t recognise him. He couldn’t have changed that much over the years. Even if he had, surely the sight of that silver handled cane would have jogged their memories.’ Fitzjohn sat back in his chair. ‘One thing’s for sure. We’re not getting the whole truth from one, or perhaps more than one of those we interviewed. We’ll question them all again, but this time formally. Make the arrangements, starting with Mr Newberry.’

‘Yes, sir.’

The police officer opened the door into Interview Room #2 and stood back. ‘If you’ll take a seat in there, gentlemen, DCI Fitzjohn will be with you shortly.’

Scowling, Sebastian, followed by his solicitor, strode into the small windowless room and looked around. ‘God, it reminds me of one of those police shows I watch on television... except this is for real.’ With indignation, he yanked out a chair from the table and plumped down, his gaze taking in the insipid green walls. ‘What on earth am I doing here? I should have insisted they speak to me at home or at my office.’ As the minutes ticked by, he tapped the leg of the table with the point of his shoe. ‘How long are we going to have to wait? I’ve got better things to do with my time.’

‘It shouldn’t be too long now,’ replied the solicitor in a low voice. ‘And remember, Sebastian, you’re not obliged to answer any questions.’ As he spoke, the door opened and Fitzjohn walked into the room, followed by Betts.

‘Sorry to keep you, Mr Newberry,’ said Fitzjohn as he sat down and placed his papers on the table. He glanced at Betts who prepared the recording device and once introductions had been made, started the interview. ‘Now, firstly...’

‘Why have I been made to come here, Chief Inspector?’ interrupted Newberry. ‘Especially since I’ve told you everything I know about that man’s death at the Observatory.’

‘We don’t want to ask you about Peter Van Goren, Mr Newberry. We’d like to talk to you about your brother, Richard, and his family.’

Newberry tugged at his ear. ‘What on earth for? How can that help? My brother’s dead.’

Unmoved by Newberry’s outburst, Fitzjohn clasped his hands together and replied, ‘Because it will enable us to build a picture. A sort of background, if you like, on the Carmichael family and how others in our present investigation, like yourself, are connected to them. It helps give us a better perspective. I’m sure you find that yourself when dealing with your clients. You need to know their likes and dislikes, whereas I like to know where people come from and how they’re linked.’ Fitzjohn gave a quick smile. Sebastian Newberry opened his mouth to speak, but Fitzjohn ignored the gesture and continued. ‘So, let’s begin again. Shall we?’ Sebastian slumped back in his chair. ‘When last we spoke, you said you and your half-brother, Richard, were close.’

‘Yes. We were,’ Newberry replied. ‘I still can’t believe he’s gone. His passing has changed all our lives. Mine, his children’s and his wife, Laura’s. What she must be going through, I can’t imagine.’ He glared at Fitzjohn. ‘Have you any idea what it’s like to lose someone close to you, Chief Inspector?’

Fitzjohn ignored the question. ‘We understand that Laura Carmichael is your half-brother’s second wife,’ continued Fitzjohn.

‘Yes. She is. Richard was first married to Rachael. She died in tragic circumstances. Richard never got over it.’ Newberry paused. ‘I introduced them, you know.’

‘Oh? How did you and Rachael come to know each other, Mr Newberry?’

‘We met while we were at art school in the days when I still believed in my artistic talents.’ Newberry chuckled to himself. ‘Eventually, I came to my senses and became an architect. Rachael carried on, of course, and became relatively successful. I did a bit of marketing and distribution of her work from time to time.’ Newberry frowned. ‘Forgive me, Chief Inspector, but where is this leading?’

‘We’d like your thoughts on what happened at Lane’s End the day that Rachael died,’ replied Fitzjohn.

‘Why? I can’t see how it will help you with your present investigation.’

‘Nevertheless, we’d appreciate your recollection.’

‘All right, if I must, but I still don’t see the point. After all, it happened thirty odd years ago.’ Newberry sighed, displaying his annoyance. ‘Let’s see.  If I remember correctly, it was a long weekend and I was to spend it at Lane’s End with Richard and Rachael. I arrived about one-thirty on the Friday afternoon. Amanda Marsh, she was the housekeeper at the time, greeted me. You met Amanda, of course, at the cocktail party.’ Fitzjohn nodded. ‘She told me Rachael was down at Ivy Cottage painting so I set off but when I got there, she wasn’t at the cottage or anywhere roundabout although her easel was set out on the grass, as if she’d just stepped away from it for a moment. I wondered whether she might have gone back to the house, perhaps by another route so I decided to walk back. When I got there, of course, she wasn’t there. Amanda suggested she might have gone for a walk to the other side of the cove so I went out again, but there was no sign of her. As you can imagine, by this time, I was frantic. I retraced my steps back towards the cottage although I did make a small detour at one stage, along the edge of the cliff but I found nothing to suggest she’d fallen over. Later, of course, I realised that her body had already been washed off the rocks.’ Sebastian reflected for a moment. ‘I hate to think about that day. Let alone talk about it.’

‘Unfortunately, it’s necessary that we ask these questions, I’m afraid,’ replied Fitzjohn, studying Newberry’s face, whose eyes were cast down. ‘What happened next?’

‘I returned to the house and called the police, and Richard, of course. God! It was the hardest phone call I’ve ever had to make.’ Sebastian shook his head.

‘Tell us about the gardener your brother employed. Henry Beaumont, was it?’

Sebastian crossed his arms and eyed Fitzjohn. ‘Yes, it was. What about him?’

‘Where was Henry while the search for Rachael was going on?’

‘I have no idea. I didn’t see him until I was on my way back to the house to make the calls. I told him that Rachael was missing and I was going to contact the police. That’s the last I saw of the man. Obviously, after we spoke, he packed his bags and left. The police never found him. But I suppose you know that.’

‘We do,’ replied Fitzjohn. ‘Makes one think that Henry had something to do with Rachael’s death, doesn’t it? After all, why else would he leave so suddenly? What are your thoughts, Mr Newberry? ‘Do you think Rachael slipped, jumped, or do you think there was foul play involved?’

‘I’ve thought about it a lot over the years and I can tell you this. Rachael wouldn’t have committed suicide. She had no reason to. After all, she was happily married to my brother and enthusiastic about her work. She could have slipped, of course, but I doubt it. She never ventured too close to the cliff edge.’

‘So, what are you saying, that there
was
foul play involved in her death?’

‘Yes. I am.’

‘In that case, who do you think did it, keeping in mind that there was only yourself, Henry Beaumont and Amanda Marsh at Lane’s End that afternoon? Unless, of course, someone else had arrived to see Rachael and used another entrance to get to Ivy Cottage.’

‘That wouldn’t have been possible. At that time, the land around Lane’s End was undeveloped and inaccessible,’ replied Newberry.

‘In that case, we’re left with the three of you, aren’t we?’ said Fitzjohn with a bemused smile.

‘Well, it certainly wasn’t me, but it could have been either of the other two.’

‘Why do you say that?’ Fitzjohn clasped his hands together underneath his chin.

‘Because, as I said before, Henry disappeared that day, right after I told him I was calling the police. Why would he do that? He must have had some reason for not wanting to be there when the police arrived.’

‘And what about Amanda Marsh?’ asked Fitzjohn. ‘Why do you think she could have killed Rachael?’

Sebastian gave a chuckle. ‘Because she was in love with Richard, of course. Why do you think she reinvented herself as a caterer and wormed her way back into his life after Rachael’s death, for heaven’s sake?’

Fitzjohn’s brow wrinkled. ‘Was your brother aware of what you’re suggesting?’

‘If he was, he never spoke about it to me. Richard wasn’t interested in Amanda in that way. As far as he was concerned, she was a loyal employee while she was his housekeeper and a good caterer later on.’ Newberry looked at his watch. ‘Is this going to take much longer because I’ve got clients to see?’

‘Not too much longer,’ replied Fitzjohn with a slight smile. ‘I just want to touch on Peter Van Goren before we terminate the interview. ‘You see, we’ve discovered that Mr Van Goren was actually the man you knew as Henry Beaumont.’ Sebastian stared at Fitzjohn for a long moment without replying. ‘Surely if you didn’t recognise him on the night he appeared at the cocktail party, the silver cane that he carried would have jiggled your memory. After all, Henry walked with just such a cane, didn’t he?’ Fitzjohn waited for Newberry to reply. ‘Well?’