The Celtic Dagger by Jill Paterson

North Sydney.’  Edwina looked back at the photograph.  ‘When this was taken, however, he was based in Brisbane.’  She turned to James.  ‘Louise knew him.  He purchased a few paintings from her.’
    ‘Do you remember him having an address in Melbourne?’
    ‘No.  As far as I know, up until now, it’s always been Brisbane, but I can ask Rebecca tomorrow to make sure.’
    ‘Did Louise ever talk about him?’
    ‘Not that I remember.  I assumed at the time that he was an art dealer but, obviously, I was wrong.  What did this Julian Gould say about him?’
    ‘He said Simon Rhodes arranged Louise’s death.’
    The colour drained from Edwina Parker’s face.
     
     
     
    James left the gallery and returned to his office, Simon Rhodes, and his close association with both Alex and Louise at the time of their deaths, on his mind.  As the day wore on, the questions mounted, and in the late afternoon, he made his way to the police station.
    He arrived at Fitzjohn’s office to find the Chief Inspector and his Sergeant in quiet conversation.  They looked up as he appeared, Fitzjohn’s face austere.
    ‘Dr Wearing, can I help you?’
    ‘I’d like a word with you if that’s possible, Chief Inspector.’
    ‘By all means.’  Fitzjohn muttered something to Betts, who promptly left the room.
    ‘Come in, Doctor.’  Fitzjohn sat back in his chair, his elbows on its arms, his fingertips touching and waited for James to be seated.  ‘How can I help you?’
    ‘I believe I mentioned to you earlier that my wife, Louise, died in a car accident two years ago.  The fact is a car knocked her down when she crossed a street in North Sydney.  The driver didn’t stop and neither he nor the car, were ever found.’
    Fitzjohn’s brow furrowed.  ‘Yes, I remember the incident.  I’m sorry, Dr Wearing.  I didn’t make the connection.’
    James nodded.  ‘It’s about that accident I’ve come to see you.  Last night, I received these from a man calling himself Julian Gould.’  James handed Fitzjohn the photographs and recounted his meetings with Gould.  ‘They’re photographs of my late wife, Louise.'
    Fitzjohn flicked through the photographs.  ‘Isn’t this Simon Rhodes standing next to your wife?  I believe we interviewed him in connection with your brother’s death.’  Fitzjohn held up the photograph.
    ‘Yes, and that’s what prompted me to come and see you.  According to, Julian Gould, Simon Rhodes not only framed him, but arranged Louise’s death.  He claims Simon deals in stolen art and tried to get Louise involved.’
    ‘These are serious allegations, Doctor.’
    ‘I agree.’
    ‘How well do you know Simon Rhodes?'
    ‘He’s an acquaintance.  He and my brother were undergraduates together.’
    ‘Friends?’
    ‘That wasn’t my impression at the time.  I didn’t see Simon again until I returned from Melbourne the other day.’  James paused.  ‘I got a surprise.’
    ‘Why?’
    ‘Well, according to some, he and Alex were friends.’
    ‘You don’t believe that to be true?’
    ‘I’ll admit I was willing to be swayed until Julian Gould turned up with his story.’
    Fitzjohn put the photographs down in front of him.  ‘I’d like to speak to Mr Gould.  Where can he be reached?’
    ‘I have no idea.  He said he couldn’t be contacted.’
    ‘Well, that doesn’t surprise me,’ said Fitzjohn.  ‘Look, if he does contact you again, try and persuade him to come in to see me, will you?  In the meantime, I’ll see if we can track him down.’
    Fitzjohn sat for a moment in thought.  ‘I can appreciate that these allegations concerning your wife’s death open up old wounds, Dr Wearing, and I want to thank you for coming forward.’  James nodded.  ‘As you will no doubt realise, we have interviewed everyone who came into contact with your brother, including Simon Rhodes, but in view of Julian Gould’s accusations, there may be more here than we realised.  If you'll