ONCE UPON A LIE (A Fitzjohn Mystery) (18 page)

With the last vestiges of light disappearing below the horizon of city buildings, Fitzjohn and Williams entered Kings Cross Police Station and made their way to the Incident Room where they found Betts writing feverishly in his notebook.

‘Were you able to
catch up with Charlotte Rossi, Betts?’ asked Fitzjohn.

‘I
wanted to wait until I spoke to you first, sir, because I’ve come across something concerning Ms Rossi.’

‘Oh
, what’s that?’  Fitzjohn sat down at his desk.

‘
Well, I’ve been checking out everyone who was close to Claudia Rossi.  Her partner Richard Edwards, her best friend Phillipa Braithwaite, and her daughter, Charlotte.  In doing so, I’ve found that in 2010, the year Claudia died, Charlotte Rossi lived in Adelaide.  At the time, she was studying for a Bachelor of Viticulture and Oenology at the University of Adelaide.  Viticulture being the study of grapes and oenology being the study of all aspect of wine and winemaking.’

‘I
know what viticulture and oenology are, Betts.  Wouldn’t someone taking on such a degree have an interest in becoming a winemaker?’

‘
It’s a four-year course, so I think you’d have to be fairly committed, sir.  Charlotte Rossi was in her last year at the time of her mother’s death.’

‘And did she complete her degree?’

‘Yes.  At the end of 2010.’

‘And here we
are in 2012 and she’s running a bookshop.  I wonder what happened to her aspirations to work in the wine industry.  Especially since, at the time, she owned half a winery.’

‘And now with her un
cle’s death she’ll own the winery out-right,’ added Betts.

‘Isn’t Adelaide another one of the few places in Australia
where death cap mushrooms are found?’

‘Yes
sir.’

Fitzjohn sat tapping his pen on his desk.
  ‘Anything else?’

‘There’s also
Phillipa Braithwaite.  We already know she manages Aiden Maxwell’s gallery in Carlton, Melbourne, so presumably she must journey there fairly regularly to carry out her duties.’

‘
And Melbourne and its suburbs are also a source for death cap mushrooms,’ added Fitzjohn.  ‘I can see where this is leading, Betts.  If it turns out that Claudia Rossi didn’t bring those mushrooms back to Sydney herself, there are others who could have.’

‘
With the possible intent to kill Claudia Rossi,’ added Betts.

‘
It’s a chilling thought, and one I’d like to lay to rest,’ said Fitzjohn.  ‘We’ll start by speaking to Charlotte Rossi, but we’ll do it first thing in the morning.  It’s late and I want to get home.  Apparently Sophie phoned the station while I was out.  I want to see if I still have a greenhouse.’

CHAPTER 18

Fitzjohn and Betts arrived at the bookshop early the following morning to find Charlotte Rossi wrestling with the lock on the front door.  ‘Good morning, Ms Rossi,’ said Fitzjohn.

Charlotte looked over her shoulder. 
‘Morning, Chief Inspector.  I shan’t be long,’ she said wincing.  ‘This lock is so old it tends to stick first thing in the morning.’

‘Here,
let me try, Ms Rossi,’ offered Betts, smiling.  Betts’s efforts saw the door fly open.

‘Thank you, Sergeant.’ 
Charlotte, with a polite smile, made her way in to the bookshop’s quiet, atmosphere, and placed a large canvas bag on her desk.

‘
I trust Miss Timmons told you we spoke to her yesterday,’ said Fitzjohn, making his way between the shelves.

‘Yes
, she did.  She said you were asking after the Brandt sketch so I brought it in with me.  I had planned to drop it off at the police station later today.’  Charlotte Rossi gestured to the canvas bag.  ‘I also have the report you asked about.  The one my mother was compiling in to its provenance.’  Charlotte rummaged in her handbag and handed the report to Fitzjohn.  ‘Perhaps I should mention that I gave a copy of that to the art dealer who sold my mother the sketch. He said he’d look in to the provenance for me.’

‘Aiden Maxwell?’ asked Fitzjohn.

‘Yes.  Do you know of him?’

‘
His name’s been raised in the course of our enquiries, Ms Rossi.  Would you say that Mr Maxwell was well acquainted with your mother?’

‘Yes.
  Other than doing quite a bit of work for him, she and Mr Maxwell met socially.’  Charlotte paused.  ‘I’m sure he wouldn’t have knowingly sold a fake piece of art work to Mum.’  Charlotte looked at the canvas bag containing the sketch.  ‘Do you think Michael’s death had something to do with this sketch, Chief Inspector?’  She caught Fitzjohn’s eye.  ‘Silly question.  Of course, you must.  Why else would you be interested in it.’

‘I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to go
in to it at this time, Ms Rossi, but what I can say is, we are also looking in to your mother’s activities just prior to her becoming ill.  And, in so doing, it would help us greatly if you could tell us who she would have come in to contact with around that time.’

‘
That’s difficult because I spent much of my time in Adelaide in 2010. I was studying there.’

‘Well, perhaps you can start by telling us where you were when your mother became ill.’

‘As a matter of fact, I was here in New South Wales then on a semester break.  Staying with a friend in the Hunter Valley.’

‘And how lo
ng had you been there?’

‘
Actually, I’d only just arrived.  Prior to that I’d been at Mum’s.’

‘And how long were you at your mother’s?’

‘I only spent one night.  It was a Friday.  I left the following morning.  I think around seven-thirty.’  Charlotte fidgeted with her bracelet.  ‘Mum and I had words, Chief Inspector.’

‘Ah.  I see.
  Can I ask the name of the friend you stayed with, in the Hunter Valley?’

Charlotte tucked her fair hair behind her ears. 
‘It was someone I was engaged to at the time.  Rafe Simms.’

A hint of surprise came to
Fitzjohn’s face.  ‘The winemaker who recently took over the harvest at Five Oaks Winery?’  Betts looked up from his notebook.

‘Yes.
  That’s right.’

‘
I see.  Do you know if your mother planned to see anyone after you left for the winery?’

‘She did
say that her partner, Richard, was due back from Singapore that Saturday morning.  But that’s the only thing I can remember her mentioning.  Except for Phillipa, of course.’

‘Phillipa Braithwaite,’ asked Fitzjohn.

‘Yes.’

‘
Do you know if your mother had seen Phillipa Braithwaite during that week?’

‘
No, I don’t.  I just remember Mum mentioning a conversation they’d had the day before I arrived.  I’m afraid that’s all I know.  With being away in Adelaide most of the year, I never kept up with Mum’s comings and goings.’

‘That’s
okay, Ms Rossi.  There’s just one other matter you might be able to assist us with.  We understand your mother became ill after ingesting death cap mushrooms.  Was it her practice, given the opportunity, to pick wild mushrooms?’

Charlotte hesitated and fidgeted with the ring on her right hand. 
‘I hate talking about this,’ she said at last, ‘but yes.  It was something she’d always done as far back as I can remember.  Mum walked early each morning whether she was at home in Sydney or at the winery, and I know she’d pick mushrooms if she came across them.’

‘
Do you think she would have done so when she was away on business?  Say in Canberra.’

‘
Oh.  This question came up at the Coroner’s inquest,’ replied Charlotte.  ‘And, although it couldn’t be proved, it was decided that because Mum was in the habit of picking wild mushrooms, she could have gathered them in the morning before she left Canberra.’  Charlotte paused.  ‘It was also thought that as death cap mushrooms aren’t found in New South Wales, she might not have been aware that they were poisonous.  Of course, Michael was irate at that assumption.’

‘Why?’

‘He argued that there was no way that Mum would have misjudged mushrooms that she picked.  He maintained she’d been murdered.’

‘And what do you think, Ms
Rossi?  About the mushrooms, that is?’

‘I think
my mother made a mistake that morning, Chief Inspector.’

Fitzjohn and Betts left Charlotte and made their way back to their car.  ‘I can’t see Charlotte Rossi as a suspect, sir.’

‘Why, Betts?  Because she’s too attractive
.  Don’t let that fact cloud your judgment.’  Betts put the sketch on to the back seat and closed the door. ‘I know it’s unpleasant,’ said Fitzjohn, ‘but Charlotte Rossi has to remain a person of interest in our investigation until we find out how Claudia Rossi came by those mushrooms.  How many hours did you say it is before death cap mushrooms take effect on the human body?’

‘Approximately sixteen
hours before the first bout of sickness, sir.’

‘Mmm.  So, if
Claudia was admitted to hospital early on Saturday morning, one would assume she’d eaten the mushrooms during the day on Friday,’ said Fitzjohn as he settled himself into the passenger seat of the car.

‘
Or possibly late on Thursday evening, sir, after she arrived back from Canberra.  After all, if she’d gone to the trouble to pick the mushrooms, you’d think she’d have thought the fresher the better.  However, if that was the case, I think she would have been feeling ill on the Friday evening.’

‘
What time did Charlotte Rossi say she arrived at her mother’s place?’

‘Around
noon on Friday, sir.  She left around seven-thirty on Saturday morning.  So her mother was very likely feeling ill and either never mentioned it or...’

‘Or Charlotte
Rossi knew very well what was troubling her mother and wanted to leave before things got worse,’ said Fitzjohn.

‘
Where to now, sir?’

‘
The Hunter Valley, Betts.  I think it’s time we made Rafe Simms’s acquaintance.’

CHAPTER
19

A little after
two o’clock that same day, Fitzjohn and Betts arrived in the Hunter Valley and after passing through the town of Cessnock, continued on in to the rolling countryside.  Fitzjohn sat quietly, immersed in his thoughts.  Not of the investigation, but of the few precious days he and Edith had spent in the Hunter Valley to celebrate her winning Grand Champion at the North Shore Orchid Society Spring Show.  Little interested in orchids at the time, Fitzjohn now wished he had appreciated what this award had meant to Edith.

‘
This is it, sir,’ said Betts, slowing the car.  ‘Peppertree Grove Wines.’  Brought back from his thoughts, Fitzjohn peered out of the passenger car window as they drove beneath the wrought iron archway and followed the road that led to a nestle of buildings.  ‘
Taste our wines in the Cellar Door
and Restaurant.  Enjoy wine tasting, cheeses and other gourmet products
,’ said Betts, reading the sign.  ‘Too bad we can’t partake.’  Leaving their car, they made their way beneath the wisteria covered courtyard, its fragrance following them into the crowded Cellar Door.

‘
Can I guide you through our range of wines, sir?’ said a young woman who stood behind the counter, her bright smile adding to the convivial atmosphere.  ‘Unless, of course, you have something specific you’d like to taste.’

‘Actually
, we’re here to see Mr Simms,’ said Fitzjohn.

‘
Oh, I’m sorry.  You must be Mr Roland from the Wine Grapes Marketing Board.  Rafe’s expecting you.’  Before Fitzjohn could reply, the young woman looked further along the counter to a tall man pouring wine for a group of tourists.  ‘Rafe, darling, your visitors are here.’  Rafe Simms approached offering his hand.  ‘Mr Roland.’

‘
I’m afraid there’s been a bit of confusion, Mr Simms,’ said Fitzjohn.  ‘I’m Detective Chief Inspector Fitzjohn and this is Detective Sergeant Betts.  We’re from the New South Wales Police.’  Fitzjohn looked around the room.  ‘I realise you’re busy, but it is necessary that we speak to you.’

‘About Michael Rossi, is it?’
asked Rafe Simms.

‘Yes.’

‘Then I think we might walk over to the house, Chief Inspector.  It’ll be quieter there.’

O
nce outside, Fitzjohn and Betts followed Rafe Simms along a gravel path that led through a copse of peppercorn trees to a sandstone bungalow, its wide verandah providing a stunning vista across the valley, and the mountain range beyond.  Rafe gestured to a group of wicker chairs.  ‘We can talk here, Chief Inspector.’