Lane's End Read online

  ‘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?’

  A sheen of sweat appeared across Sebastian’s forehead. ‘All right. I
knew it was him.’

  ‘Then why did you tell us you didn’t know Peter Van Goren?’

  ‘Because... I thought if it was discovered who Van Goren really was, it would restart the investigation into Rachael’s death, and I knew that Richard wouldn’t survive going through all that again.’ Newberry sighed. ‘As it turned out, he didn’t.’

  ‘The Hunts and Amanda Marsh also denied knowing Peter Van Goren. Was that your doing?’ asked Fitzjohn.

  ‘It might have been my idea, but I didn’t have to twist their arms. None of them wanted to revisit the circumstances surrounding Rachael’s death.’

  ‘What about the argument you and your brother had after he’d spoken to Van Goren? It wasn’t about a business matter, was it? Mr Van Goren told Richard that it was you who had pushed Rachael off that cliff? Is that what enraged Richard, Mr Newberry?’

  ‘For heaven’s sake!’ Sebastian Newberry’s chair fell backwards as he stood up, his face red with rage. ‘You’ve got your nerve accusing me of murder! How dare you?’

  Unperturbed by the outburst, Fitzjohn sat back, his eyes locked onto Newberry’s. ‘Where were you on Saturday, March 26th?’ he asked.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Were you at Lane’s End, Mr Newberry?’

  ‘Lane’s End? Why would I be there?’ Newberry picked up his chair and sat down again. ‘If you must know, I was out doing quotes for jobs. I do so every Saturday.’

  ‘Then perhaps you can give DS Betts the names and addresses of the people you saw, as well as the times that you saw them.’

  ‘Do you believe Newberry’s reason for not wanting to recognise Peter Van Goren, sir?’ asked Betts as he and Fitzjohn left the interview room.

  ‘It sounds plausible enough and I tend to believe him because his admission does give him a motive to kill Van Goren. He’s a fairly astute man, so I’m sure he’s aware of that fact. And there’s something else, Betts. We can now assume that Peter Van Goren’s death is connected to Rachael’s, and I can’t see that Newberry had a motive to kill her.’

  ‘What about Amanda Marsh? What he told us about her being in love with Richard Carmichael does give her a motive.’

  ‘You’re right. It does. Let’s see what else we can glean from that fact when we interview her again. But first, I want you to check out Newberry’s alibi concerning Saturday, March 26th. The day that Emma Phillips was attacked at Lane’s End. While you’re doing that, I’ll speak to Laura Carmichael. In light of what Newberry has just told us and since she’s Richard’s second wife, I’d like to know what she thinks about Amanda Marsh.’

  Later that morning and accompanied by Williams, Fitzjohn arrived at the Carmichael home in Mosman. He winced as he peered out of the passenger window at the steps leading up through the front garden to the house. Williams followed his gaze. ‘We can look on this as our exercise for the day, sir.’

  ‘I don’t need that much exercise, Williams,’ replied Fitzjohn as he started the climb. When they neared the top, they found a woman in her early fifties pruning a row of standard white roses, her short, auburn hair hiding underneath a golf cap.

  ‘Mrs Carmichael?’ asked Fitzjohn, by now out of breath.

  Laura turned, her hazel eyes looking guardedly at the two officers. ‘Yes. Can I help you?’

  Fitzjohn held up his warrant card and introduced himself.

  Laura’s face brightened. ‘Ah. We meet at last, Chief Inspector,’ she replied, placing her secateurs in the basket at her feet before removing her gardening gloves. ‘My step-daughter, Joanna, told me she’d spoken to you about that dreadful night at the Observatory. I’m not sure I can add much to what she told you, but do come inside.’ Laura removed her cap, placed it on the hall table and led the way through to the sunroom where Fitzjohn and Betts had spoken earlier to Joanna. ‘Have you found out who the man who died was?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes, we have,’ replied Fitzjohn as they sat down. ‘He was a business man, but Peter Van Goren wasn’t his name. His real name was Henry Beaumont.’

  ‘Beaumont? That’s odd.’ Laura frowned.

  ‘Have you heard the name before, Mrs Carmichael? In connection with your family, that is?’

  ‘Yes, I have, as a matter of fact. I came across it the other day when I was going through papers in my husband’s study. Apparently, a Mr Beaumont used to work for Richard years ago as a gardener at Lane’s End. Lane’s End is a property he owned at Whale Beach. Henry Beaumont must have been injured while at work because Richard paid his medical expenses. That was what the papers were about. All to do with the medical bills.’ Laura looked at Fitzjohn. ‘This must mean that my husband knew the man who died at the cocktail party, doesn’t it?’

  ‘It seems so,’ replied Fitzjohn.

  ‘I can’t understand it. Richard gave no indication he knew the man.’

  ‘We understand Emerson Hunt contacted your husband late on Friday night.’

  ‘Yes, he did ring to tell Richard about what had happened there after we’d left.’ Laura paused. ‘It was after that phone call that my husband suffered his heart attack.’ A long silence followed before Laura Carmichael continued. ‘Do you know why Mr Van Goren came to the cocktail party, Chief Inspector?’

  ‘No,’ said Fitzjohn.

  ‘It’s strange that he’d changed his name from Beaumont. I wonder why?’

  ‘That much we do know, but, at this stage, we’re not at liberty to say. Tell me, Mrs Carmichael, did your husband ever speak to you about his first wife, Rachael?’

  Laura gave Fitzjohn a quizzical look. ‘Yes, he did speak of her, but only when he and I first met. After that, it was a closed subject. I think the way in which she died haunted Richard.’ Laura Carmichael caught Fitzjohn’s gaze. ‘Why do you ask? Are you aware of the circumstances of her death?’ Fitzjohn nodded. ‘Mmm. I thought you might be. You probably know more than me. The little I gleaned from our talks, I passed on to Ben and Joanna when they started to ask questions about their mother. But I’m sure there’s much I don’t know.’

  ‘Did your husband say what he thought happened to Rachael?’

  ‘Not in so many words. Because the reason for her death could never be proved, I believe he liked to think it was an accident. That she’d slipped on the path. You see, for him, her death was like an open door that could never be closed.’ Laura Carmichael paused. ‘I’ve lived with her ghost for almost thirty years, Chief Inspector.’

  ‘Can we ask you about the woman who found Mr Van Goren’s body?’

  ‘It was the caterer, wasn’t it, Amanda Marsh?’

  ‘Yes. We understand that Ms Marsh worked for your husband as a housekeeper at one time.’

  ‘Yes, she did. I think that’s why Richard always used her catering business for the company’s functions. He said she’d been a good employee. To be honest, I think he felt guilty about having to let her go after Rachael died. Apparently, his mother moved in here to look after the children and Richard so Amanda’s services were no longer needed. That was before we met, of course.’

  ‘I see. Tell me, Mrs Carmichael, how do you get on with Amanda Marsh?’

  ‘Fine. She appears to be very efficient at what she does. Of course, I have very little to do with her. Catering for functions held by Carmichael Hunt Real Estate is managed through Richard’s office. I just attend the functions. Or at least I did.’

  ‘But you did see Amanda at times.’

  ‘Yes, but only if she was understaffed and came along to help. As she did the night Mr Van Goren died.’ When Fitzjohn did not reply, Laura continued. ‘Oh, I see. You want to know what I think about Amanda Marsh on a personal level.’ Laura ran her hand along the arm of her chair, following its pattern with her index finger. ‘Well, to be quite honest, I don’t like the woman. I never have.’

  ‘Can you tell us why?’

  ‘I prefer not to if you don’t mind,’ replied Laura. ‘I don’t necessarily like to voice my opinion about someone I don’t particularly like.’

  ‘I
can understand that, Mrs Carmichael, but in an investigation such as we’re conducting, we need answers to awkward questions.’

  Laura met Fitzjohn’s intense gaze. ‘Very well, if you must know, it’s because she was always far too familiar with my husband. Not that Richard encouraged her, you understand. I think he was oblivious to her attentions. Nevertheless, it irritated me no end.’

  In the early evening, with the city buildings still generating the day’s heat, Fitzjohn and Williams returned to Day Street Station where Fitzjohn found Betts writing up his notes in the Incident Room. ‘How did you get on with Newberry’s alibi?’ he asked, taking his suit coat off and hanging it on the back of one of the chairs.

  ‘I found discrepancies in the times that he gave us as to when he saw his prospective clients for quotes, sir.’ Betts closed his notebook and sat back in his chair. ‘He only saw one of the clients listed, and that person said Newberry arrived an hour earlier than scheduled. The other two clients said he didn’t turn up at all and didn’t telephone to cancel.’

  ‘So where was he, and why lie to us when it’s so easy for us to find out? We’ll speak to him again, Betts.’

  ‘What did Laura Carmichael have to say, sir?’ asked Betts as they left the room.

  ‘She doesn’t like Amanda Marsh.’ Fitzjohn’s eyebrows lifted before he recounted his interview with Laura Carmichael. ‘So, not only do we have Sebastian Newberry establishing a motive for Amanda Marsh to kill Rachael Carmichael, we also have Mrs Carmichael stating that Marsh was far too familiar when speaking to her husband. Arrange for her to be brought in next for questioning, Betts. I’d like to know why she, too, denied knowing Peter Van Goren.’