took me to dinner at one of his restaurants once.’
‘Was he a friend of Laurence Harford’s?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘What time was it when you saw Mr Wycliffe, Mrs Holmes?’
‘Around seven, I think.’
‘Did you see anyone else about?’
Charlotte Holmes turned the ring on her right hand. ‘No, no one.’
CHAPTER 13
Fitzjohn shook his head as the door closed behind them, the haunting image of Charlotte Holmes’s bruised and battered face still with him.
‘Mrs Holmes is in a bad way, sir.’
‘She is, Betts. The work of her husband, I suspect.’ Fitzjohn paused at the car door. ‘And if he’s capable of that, one would think there’s every possibility he’s capable of murder.’
As they drove away, Fitzjohn said, ‘I think it’d be a good idea to have a word with Wycliffe, Betts, because I have a feeling he wasn’t the only person Charlotte Holmes saw that night. And if I’m right, it’s someone she knew, otherwise, why not say?’
‘You think it was her husband, sir?’
‘Well, it would explain why she didn’t go into Brayshaw’s, wouldn’t it? I can’t think seeing Parish’s office light on would deter her.’
Betts stopped at the lights. ‘Where to now, sir?’
‘The morgue. I want to see how Charles Conroy is getting on.’ Fitzjohn noted Betts’s silence. ‘You can come along or, if you prefer, you can call into the Sir Stamford hotel and see what you can find out about Dr Harford’s movements since he arrived back in Sydney.’
Betts smiled at the suggestion. ‘I’ll do that. No point us both being at the morgue, is there? I’ll also go to the hotel on Darling Street that Eric Holmes says he went to last night and see if the publican remembers when he left.’
‘Good thinking,’ replied Fitzjohn.
They continued on in silence for a while before Fitzjohn said, ‘Who do we have on our team at the moment, Betts?’
‘Detective Constables Williams and Saunders, sir. Oh, and possibly Carruthers.’
‘Carruthers? The accident prone Carruthers?’
‘The very same, sir. I understand he returned to work today. If his doctor gave him the okay, that is.’
Fitzjohn grimaced. ‘Why only those three? Where’s everyone else?’
‘The rest are working on that robbery at Haymarket. Superintendent Grieg...’
Fitzjohn groaned his annoyance evident. ‘Say no more. We’ll just have to make the best of it. Have Williams and Saunders go to the Shangri-la Hotel. With any luck someone might remember who Julia Harford left with the other night. And also, have them, or Carruthers, if he’s turned up, speak to Michael Wycliffe.’
Fitzjohn returned to his office that evening fighting the fatigue that he felt sweeping over him. Sitting down at his desk, he switched the desk lamp on, quivering as the graphic images of the day revisited him. When the door opened, and Superintendent Grieg walked into the room, he was neither pleased nor surprised. He had, in fact, anticipated Grieg’s arrival, knowing that Fellowes interference into the distribution of cases would anger Grieg. Putting his glasses back on, and getting to his feet Fitzjohn said, ‘Superintendent,’ gesturing to the chair in front of his desk. Grieg remained standing with his hands on his hips, his arrogant, belligerent nature all too apparent.
‘What the hell’s going on, Fitzjohn? Bennett tells me he’s taken over your case and you’re dealing with the Harford matter.’
‘At Chief Superintendent Fellowes request, sir.’
‘I don’t care whose bloody request it was. I don’t like interference on my watch. I say who does what around here.’
His patience sapped by fatigue Fitzjohn said, ‘Then perhaps you’d better take it up with the Chief Superintendent.’
Grieg glowered at Fitzjohn. ‘What did you sa...?’ At that moment, the door opened and Betts, along with Williams and Saunders appeared. Betts
‘Was he a friend of Laurence Harford’s?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘What time was it when you saw Mr Wycliffe, Mrs Holmes?’
‘Around seven, I think.’
‘Did you see anyone else about?’
Charlotte Holmes turned the ring on her right hand. ‘No, no one.’
CHAPTER 13
Fitzjohn shook his head as the door closed behind them, the haunting image of Charlotte Holmes’s bruised and battered face still with him.
‘Mrs Holmes is in a bad way, sir.’
‘She is, Betts. The work of her husband, I suspect.’ Fitzjohn paused at the car door. ‘And if he’s capable of that, one would think there’s every possibility he’s capable of murder.’
As they drove away, Fitzjohn said, ‘I think it’d be a good idea to have a word with Wycliffe, Betts, because I have a feeling he wasn’t the only person Charlotte Holmes saw that night. And if I’m right, it’s someone she knew, otherwise, why not say?’
‘You think it was her husband, sir?’
‘Well, it would explain why she didn’t go into Brayshaw’s, wouldn’t it? I can’t think seeing Parish’s office light on would deter her.’
Betts stopped at the lights. ‘Where to now, sir?’
‘The morgue. I want to see how Charles Conroy is getting on.’ Fitzjohn noted Betts’s silence. ‘You can come along or, if you prefer, you can call into the Sir Stamford hotel and see what you can find out about Dr Harford’s movements since he arrived back in Sydney.’
Betts smiled at the suggestion. ‘I’ll do that. No point us both being at the morgue, is there? I’ll also go to the hotel on Darling Street that Eric Holmes says he went to last night and see if the publican remembers when he left.’
‘Good thinking,’ replied Fitzjohn.
They continued on in silence for a while before Fitzjohn said, ‘Who do we have on our team at the moment, Betts?’
‘Detective Constables Williams and Saunders, sir. Oh, and possibly Carruthers.’
‘Carruthers? The accident prone Carruthers?’
‘The very same, sir. I understand he returned to work today. If his doctor gave him the okay, that is.’
Fitzjohn grimaced. ‘Why only those three? Where’s everyone else?’
‘The rest are working on that robbery at Haymarket. Superintendent Grieg...’
Fitzjohn groaned his annoyance evident. ‘Say no more. We’ll just have to make the best of it. Have Williams and Saunders go to the Shangri-la Hotel. With any luck someone might remember who Julia Harford left with the other night. And also, have them, or Carruthers, if he’s turned up, speak to Michael Wycliffe.’
Fitzjohn returned to his office that evening fighting the fatigue that he felt sweeping over him. Sitting down at his desk, he switched the desk lamp on, quivering as the graphic images of the day revisited him. When the door opened, and Superintendent Grieg walked into the room, he was neither pleased nor surprised. He had, in fact, anticipated Grieg’s arrival, knowing that Fellowes interference into the distribution of cases would anger Grieg. Putting his glasses back on, and getting to his feet Fitzjohn said, ‘Superintendent,’ gesturing to the chair in front of his desk. Grieg remained standing with his hands on his hips, his arrogant, belligerent nature all too apparent.
‘What the hell’s going on, Fitzjohn? Bennett tells me he’s taken over your case and you’re dealing with the Harford matter.’
‘At Chief Superintendent Fellowes request, sir.’
‘I don’t care whose bloody request it was. I don’t like interference on my watch. I say who does what around here.’
His patience sapped by fatigue Fitzjohn said, ‘Then perhaps you’d better take it up with the Chief Superintendent.’
Grieg glowered at Fitzjohn. ‘What did you sa...?’ At that moment, the door opened and Betts, along with Williams and Saunders appeared. Betts
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