ONCE UPON A LIE (A Fitzjohn Mystery) (9 page)

‘
So he didn’t change his will after he and his wife separated,’ said Fitzjohn.

‘No.’

‘Tell me, Mr Spencer, is Stella Rossi aware of this?’

‘Yes.  Michael had me write to her not long after their separation
, telling her that he had no plans to make any changes to his will.  He never asked me to write a letter contradicting that.’

‘
Mmm.’  Fitzjohn rubbed his chin before he continued.  ‘We understand that Michael Rossi also owned half share in a winery in the Hunter Valley.’

‘That’s correct. 
Five Oaks Winery.  The will stipulates that it’s to be inherited by his sister, Claudia Rossi, but if she predeceases him, it goes to her daughter, Charlotte Rossi, which is, of course, what will happen.’

‘And
is Charlotte Rossi aware of this?’

‘That I can’t say
, Chief Inspector, but being that the winery has passed down through the Rossi family from her great-grandparents, I should imagine she does.’

Fitzjohn and Betts returned to their car, Fitzjohn settling himself in to the passenger seat.  His gaze went the full length of Walker Street to where Sydney’s CBD shimmered in the heat like a mirage over the harbour, his thoughts, however, were elsewhere.  ‘I wonder if the letters Michael Rossi was looking for at Esme Timmons’s residence on Friday night were to do with Claudia Rossi’s life insurance policy, Betts.  And if that’s the case, I wonder what sparked his interest.’

Betts shrugged
as he started the car.  ‘Surely the policy has been paid out by now, sir.’

‘Nevertheless
, I want you to contact the insurance company and find out exactly when it was paid.  But before you do that, we’ll speak to Nigel Prentice again.  I’m interested to hear how he explains where he was after eight o’clock on Friday evening.  And then there’s Charlotte Rossi.  We’ll pay her a call as well to find out how she felt about her uncle selling the winery.’

‘You mean if she didn’t agree with the sale she had a pretty strong motive to kill Michael Rossi.’

‘If she knew she’d inherit his share; yes, I do, Betts.’

Fitzjohn’s knock on Nigel Prentice’s front door was answered by a short, plump woman in her early fifties.  ‘Are you collecting for the Salvos,’ she asked with an engaging smile.

‘No, madam.  We’re
from the New South Wales Police.’  Fitzjohn held up his warrant card.  ‘I’m Detective Chief Inspector Fitzjohn and this is Detective Sergeant Betts.’

‘Oh
.  I beg your pardon.  Nigel did say he’d spoken to the police yesterday.  I’m Maggie Prentice.  Nigel’s wife.  Please, come in, Chief Inspector.  It’s shocking about poor Michael,’ she continued.  ‘Seems nobody’s safe these days.  If you’d care to wait in there,’ she gestured to the living room, ‘I’ll go fetch Nigel.  He’s out the back.’

As Mrs Prentice disappeared, Fitzjohn and Betts
circled the living room, taking in its 1980s flare.  Minutes passed before Nigel Prentice appeared, brushing his clothes down.  ‘Sorry to keep you waiting, gentlemen.  I was doing a bit of gardening.  Won’t you have a seat.’

‘We have a few more questio
ns,’ said Fitzjohn, sitting down.  ‘We’d like to know where you were after you left the council meeting on the night Michael Rossi died.’

‘
But I explained that yesterday, Chief Inspector.’  Prentice sat down on the sofa.  ‘I came straight home.’

‘So
you said.  The only problem is, a gentleman who attended the same council meeting said you left that meeting around eight o’clock.  And as you said you arrived home at ten, I wonder if you can tell us where you were in those two intervening hours.  That is, between eight and ten.’

With beads of perspiration appearing on his forehead, Prentice jumped up from his chair and closed the living room door.  Returning to his seat, he clasped his hands together and whispered, ‘I met
a friend, Chief Inspector.’

‘
A friend?’ repeated Fitzjohn.

‘Yes.  A woman friend
, if you get my meaning.’  Prentice’s eyes darted toward the closed door.

‘
Oh, I do,’ answered Fitzjohn.  ‘Can we have your friend’s name?’  Fitzjohn waited for Prentice to reply.  ‘It could cause you problems if you don’t tell us, Mr Prentice, because we might assume you were not with a friend at all, but at your place of business during the time of Michael Rossi’s murder.’

‘
But that absurd.’

‘Then
where were you, and who were you with?’ asked Fitzjohn again, his impatience growing.

Prentice fidgeted with the crocheted doily on the arm of
the sofa. ‘All right.  I was with Stella Rossi.  After the council meeting finished we met up and we went for a drive.  Up the north shore.  Colloroy way.  I hope this doesn’t have to go any further, Chief Inspector.  I’m sure you’ll understand.  My wife, you see…’

‘Oh, I
understand only too well,’ said Fitzjohn.

‘I wonder if teaming up with Stella Rossi was a strategic move on Nigel Prentice’s part,’ said Betts, getting in to the car a few minutes later.  ‘I mean, he could see it as a way of gaining control of the company.’

‘You mean by persuading Mrs Rossi to let him run it
?’

‘Yes
, sir.’

‘Sound
s logical, but if he’s that devious, do you really believe he’d be satisfied with only owning half the shares?’

‘No.  Probably not
,’ replied Betts, ‘but one thing’s for sure. Nigel Prentice and Stella Rossi both had motive to murder Michael Rossi because between the two of them they now own Rossi & Prentice Yachting Electronics, outright.’

‘
They do, Betts.  But whether they had the means and opportunity to kill Michael Rossi, remains to be seen.’  Fitzjohn looked at his watch.  ‘And while we’re figuring that out let’s have another word with Charlotte Rossi.’

CHAPTER 10

Gone was the infectious smile on Charlotte Rossi’s face, so visible the previous day.  Instead, she appeared tense when she opened the door to her apartment.

‘Chief Inspector.’

‘Ms Rossi, our apologies for disturbing your Sunday, but we’d like to speak to you again if we may.’  Charlotte eyes darted from Fitzjohn to Betts and back to Fitzjohn.

‘By all means,’ she said, stepping back from the doorway.  ‘Come
in.  Do you have news about my uncle?’

‘No, not yet,
’ answered Fitzjohn, ‘but there are a few unanswered questions we thought you might be able to help us with.’

‘I hope I
can,’ she said as she led the way along a short hallway and in to a sun filled living room.  ‘What is it you want to ask?’

‘I seem to remember you said the last time you spoke to your uncle
was on Friday morning,’ said Fitzjohn, sitting down.

‘
That’s right.  He came here to drop off his house keys so that I could take delivery of the fridge.’

‘
So you didn’t see him after that?  Miss Timmons seems to think he planned to call around after he’d left her place.’

‘
Mmm.  Esme mentioned that yesterday, but as I think I told you before, Chief Inspector, I worked late on Friday night.  I didn’t get home until after nine.  So, I don’t know whether he called around or not.’

‘
Did he try to contact you by phone?’

‘
There was a missed call on my mobile, but when I rang him back, there was no reply.’  Charlotte’s brow furrowed.  ‘By that time he was probably…  Oh God.’

Fitzjohn waited for a moment before he continued his questioning.
  ‘Can you think of anyone who would want to harm your uncle, Ms Rossi?’

‘H
e wasn’t popular with a number of people, Chief Inspector, but I wouldn’t have thought that their grievances would go as far as murder.’

‘Can you tell us who these people were
?’  When Charlotte Rossi did not reply, Fitzjohn continued.  ‘For instance.  What do you know about a man called Percy Greene?’

‘
Percy?  He’s… He was an acquaintance of Michael’s.  An old school friend.  Percy handles the Old Boys network, but that’s all I know about him.’

‘What about Graeme Wyngard.’

‘Wyngard.  I believe he was a client of Michael’s.  I’ve had some dealings with him when I’ve worked in Michael’s office.  Rather a pompous sort.  Full of himself, if you know what I mean.’

‘And
Robert Nesbit?’

‘
Robert?  I’ve known Robert all my life, Chief Inspector.  He and my father were friends.  They sailed together.  Robert Nesbit was there when my father was lost at sea.’ Charlotte paused.  ‘I’m also part of Robert’s crew.  Once upon a time, he and Michael were friends as well as business partners until…’

‘Until
what, Ms Rossi?’

‘
Oh.  Something happened… they fell out and Michael left the business.’

‘
Can you tell us what happened?’  Charlotte Rossi remained silent.  ‘If you know anything at all Ms Rossi…’

‘
Well, I suppose you’ll find out eventually.’  Charlotte sighed.  ‘The truth of the matter is, Michael had an affair with Robert’s wife.  It broke up Robert’s marriage.’

Betts looked up from his notebook.

‘I see,’ said Fitzjohn.  ‘And I take it this also led to the end of their business partnership.’

‘
Yes.  It did.’

‘
When did this happened?’ asked Fitzjohn.

‘
Just over two years ago.  At the beginning of 2010.’

‘And your uncle’s marriage?’

‘It collapsed too.  He and Stella separated soon after.’

‘
I’m told they never divorced.’

‘
No, they didn’t.  As far as I know, Stella never asked for a divorce and Michael didn’t offer. To tell you the truth, I think he hoped that one day Stella would come back to him.’ After a moment Charlotte looked at her watch.

‘
I don’t want to keep you too long, Ms Rossi, but I do have a couple more question.  The first being Five Oaks Winery.  We understand you have a 50 percent share.’

‘Yes, my mother left it to me in her will.’

’So, were you in agreement when your uncle decided to sell?’

Charlotte fingered the gold chain around her neck.
  ‘No, I wasn’t, but I couldn’t afford to buy Michael out so there wasn’t much I could do about it.’

Fitzjohn sensed Charlotte Rossi’s growing restiveness. 
‘Did you voice your disapproval to your uncle?’

‘O
f course.  Several times.  The last time being on Friday morning when he came by to drop off his keys.  He wanted to make sure I’d agree to sign the listing agreement.’

‘And did you?
  Agree, that is.’

‘Yes
, because I knew there was no point in arguing with Michael.  He’d just have kept wearing me down until he got his way.’

‘And
what about now that your uncle’s… gone?’

With a pinched expression,
Charlotte Rossi met Fitzjohn’s intense gaze.  ‘If you’re referring to the winery’s ownership, Chief Inspector, I’ll inherit Michael’s share.  It’s always been passed down through my family.  Unless, of course, Michael made other arrangements in his will.’  Charlotte Rossi looked at her watch again.  ‘Will this take much longer.  It’s just that…’

Fitzjohn looked over to the suitcase on the dining room table.
  ‘Are you going away, Ms Rossi?’ he asked.

‘I
stayed with my Aunt Esme last night.  I was worried about her being alone after the break-in.  I plan to stay with her for the next few days so I came home for a few things.’  Charlotte paused.  ‘Do you think that the break-in had something to do with Michael’s death, Chief Inspector?’

‘
That depends on whether your uncle and the person who broke into your aunt’s house on Friday night were looking for the same thing, Ms Rossi.  Apparently, your uncle told Miss Timmons he was looking for letters.  We haven’t been able to establish whether he found them or not.’

‘My second question
, Ms Rossi,’ continued Fitzjohn, ‘is about Nigel Prentice.  In as much as how he and your uncle got along.’

‘
They got along fine until just recently.’

‘
Oh?  Do you know what happened to change that?’

‘I’m not sure, but I suspect it might have something to do with what Michael told me a few weeks ago.  That he planned to buy Nigel out of the business.  I think that was one of the reasons he wanted to sell the winery.  To raise cash.  I don’t know how, but Nigel must have got wind of Michael’s plans.’  Charlotte thought for a moment.  ‘I know my uncle would have preferred to own the business outright from the start, Chief Inspector, but obviously he couldn’t afford to at the time.’