Lane's End by Jill Paterson Page A

Fitzjohn.
    Ben studied the image again. ‘The face of the woman next to my mother looks like the woman who used to be our housekeeper. Amanda Marsh is her name.’
    ‘Amanda Marsh?’ said Fitzjohn. ‘We met a woman by that name at the Observatory the night Peter Van Goren died.’
    ‘Yes, you would have. Apparently, after my mother’s death, Amanda moved on and started her own catering business.’
    ‘I see. So, she’s remained in touch with your family?’ replied Fitzjohn.
    ‘Only in as far as catering for functions held by Carmichael Hunt Real Estate.’
    ‘What about the man in the photograph standing next to Ms Marsh?’ asked Fitzjohn. I know his image is far from clear, but do you have any idea who he might be?’
    ‘Well, he’s not tall enough to be my uncle, Sebastian Newberry, or my father, for that matter.’ Ben shook his head. ‘I’m sorry, Chief Inspector. I don’t know who he is.’ Ben handed the photograph back to Betts.
     
     
    ‘Right,’ said Fitzjohn as he and Betts left the hospital. ‘Tomorrow I want to talk to Amanda Marsh again because it seems she had more to do with the Carmichael family than providing her catering services.

 
     
     
     
     
    CHAPTER 12
     
     
    Those who gathered at Richard Carmichael’s graveside did so in silence, the mourners who had attended the cocktail party only days before still reeling in the knowledge that Richard was now dead. Ben and Joanna stood on either side of Laura, her face expressionless, both hands clasped together in front of her. Emerson Hunt and his wife, Theodora, together with Sebastian Newberry, positioned themselves on the other side of the casket. Ben’s gaze came to rest on Emerson, who fidgeted with the signet ring on his right hand. Theodora stemmed her tears with a tissue. Sebastian cast his eyes down. Behind him, Amanda Marsh looked straight ahead from beneath her large-brimmed black hat.
    When the minister’s words came to an end and those assembled dispersed, Ben and Joanna waited while Laura spoke to Theodora and Emerson Hunt.
    ‘The police are here,’ said Joanna, looking toward Fitzjohn and Betts who could be seen on a grass verge some distance away. ‘Why, I wonder?’ As Joanna spoke, the two officers turned and walked to their car.
    ‘I’m not sure,’ replied Ben. ‘But if you think about it, it’s likely that the person who killed Peter Van Goren is here among us.’
    ‘Oh.’ Joanna grimaced and looked around at the mourners now walking away from the graveside toward their cars. ‘I suppose you’re right. And whoever that person is, is about to make his way to Mosman to offer condolences and sip Earl Grey tea with us.’
    ‘What makes you think it’s a man, Joanna?’
    A look of shock came to Joanna’s face. ‘Well, it couldn’t be a woman. Could it?’ Ben shrugged.
    ‘Thanks for waiting, you two,’ said Laura as she approached and they started towards their car. ‘I just wanted to thank Theodora and Emerson. They’ve been so kind to me over the past few days.’ Ben opened the car door. ‘Was that the police I saw earlier?’ Laura continued.
    ‘Yes,’ replied Ben.
    ‘Then they must think that someone at the funeral killed Mr Van Goren.’ Laura sighed. ‘Oh dear.’
     
     
    Guests were already congregating at the Carmichael residence when Laura, along with Ben and Joanna, arrived. Ben looked at the strained face of his step-mother. ‘Are you okay, Laura?’
    ‘Yes, I’m fine.’ She tapped his arm and walked into the house and through to the living room to greet the guests.
    In the front hall, Ben and Joanna received the continual flow of mourners, amongst them Theodora, followed by Emerson. With her tight black dress accentuating her plump shape, and her long blonde curls swept up and held by a butterfly-shaped hat, Theodora took each of their hands. ‘Darlings, we know how devastated you both must be. Don’t we, Emerson?’ she said, shooting a look his way. ‘And you especially