A Fitzjohn Mystery Vol 1-3 Box Set by Jill Paterson

Author:Jill Paterson [Paterson, Jill]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: J. Henderson
Published: 2013-11-11T23:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 21

Early the next morning, Fitzjohn made his way to Howard Parish’s terrace house in Glebe to find him on the front porch watering two large pot plants. Howard looked around as Fitzjohn’s car pulled up at the curb. He put the watering can down and opened the wrought iron gate as Fitzjohn climbed out of the car.

‘Good morning, Inspector.’

‘Morning, Mr Parish. I have a few more questions, if you don’t mind.’

‘Oh?’

Fitzjohn did not reply, but followed Howard through the front door and into a long rectangular living room, its white painted walls and fireplace lending a sterile feel, and a stark contrast to the dark wooden floor boards. These creaked as Fitzjohn walked across them. He settled himself into one of two sofas that faced each other. Howard Parish hovered nervously for a moment before sitting down himself.

‘How can I help you, Inspector?’

Fitzjohn sat back, his suit coat button taut over his rotund shape. ‘Two things, Mr Parish. Firstly, it’s come to my attention that you may have been the main source of communication between Edward Harford and his brother. Is that true?’

‘Yes, I suppose I was. After Edward Harford retired, I found myself increasingly the link between the two.’

‘Were you privy to the reason they disliked each other?’

Howard Parish hesitated for a moment before he said, ‘No.’

‘You couldn’t hazard a guess?’ Howard moved in his chair as he shook his head.

Fitzjohn sighed. ‘Very well. In that case we’ll move on. I’d like you to go over your movements last Wednesday evening for me again. I seem to remember you said you left Brayshaw’s earlier than usual that afternoon.’

‘That’s right, I had an appointment at the bank.’

‘Did you go back to work afterward?’

Howard pursed his lips. ‘No, it was after five when my appointment finished, so I came home.’

‘I see.’ Fitzjohn’s eyes locked onto Howard Parish. ‘Does anyone ever use your office in the evening when you’re not there?’

Parish hesitated, his fingers fidgeting with the tassels of a rug that lay on the sofa next to him. ‘Not that I’m aware of.’

‘So, no one would have occasion to go into your office and turn on the light other than yourself.’

‘Well, I suppose Laurence Harford may have done so on occasion if he was looking for something in particular. Why do you ask?’

‘Because I’m led to believe that on the night Laurence Harford died, the light in your office was visible from the street.’ After a moment of silence, Fitzjohn looked at the signet ring on Howard Parish’s right hand, a large ruby in its centre, and commented, ‘An unusual ring, Mr Parish.’

Thrown by the change of subject, Parish looked down at his hand. ‘I had it designed especially. I like rubies, you see.’ Fitzjohn nodded.

‘Tell me, Mr Parish. Do you know a man called Piers LaSalle?’

‘I think I’ve heard the name. Why?’

‘So you’ve never met?’

‘I don’t think so.’

‘That’s interesting because I was under the assumption that you went with Mr LaSalle to Quay West Suites on the night that Laurence Harford died.

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