Sasha, Galbraith and Fitzpatrick went across Armagh Street for coffee at a bar in a neo-Gothic stone building that abutted the old Provincial Chambers, once part of the Magistrates Court. A favourite with the legal establishment, it was historic, colourful and noisy. As they joined a gathering crowd rolling in for lunch, colleagues came and went, congratulating both Sasha and Fitzpatrick on their closing addresses.
Laughing, Sasha said, ‘Forgive me my trespasses. Come on, Finn, isn’t it time you gave that one away?’ Fitzpatrick grinned, then said quietly, ‘He hasn’t got a show has he.’
‘I didn’t think he had until you stood up. I should have known better.’
As she was about to fetch more coffee, Sasha got a call from Gary that the jury was ready.
Everyone was in place before the jury filed in to sit in the same seats they’d occupied throughout the trial.
‘Mr Foreman,’ asked Gary Wynn, ‘have you unanimously agreed upon your verdict.’
‘We have.’
‘How say you on the first count of the murder of Neil Apsley. Do you find the accused guilty or not guilty?’
‘Not guilty.’ Fitzpatrick nodded as Thomas yelled ‘Yes’ and beamed. Indecipherable shouting filled the court. Sasha and Galbraith looked impassive. If they were going to lose one count, it would be Apsley.
‘Silence, silence,’ called the court attendant.
As the noise diminished, Gary said in a louder voice, ‘On the second count of the murder of Derek Paul Donaldson. Do you find the accused guilty or not guilty?’
The foreman paused for several seconds then uttered, ‘Guilty.’
‘What?’ said Thomas. ‘He’s read the wrong bloody card!’
‘Silence, please.’
‘On the third count of the murder of John Stewart Dench. Do you find the accused guilty or not guilty?’
This time, a prompt response, loud and clear. ‘Guilty.’
By the time Bowen was ready to sentence him, Thomas was in handcuffs and had a plastic tie around his ankles.
‘Prisoner at the bar, on the charge of wilfully attempting to pervert the course of justice to which you have pleaded guilty, you are convicted and sentenced to two years imprisonment. On the two counts of murder on which you have been found guilty, you are convicted and sentenced to life imprisonment, sentences to be served concurrently.’
Thomas was still screaming as he was hauled off to the cells.
****
The couple watching the verdict on the six o’clock news at their Merivale home were a study in contrasts. One was tall, powerfully built and handsome. The other was squat, with strawberry blond hair and poor skin. One had a medical background, the other knew about technology. It was their respective childhoods that had brought them together, then their sexuality. Doctor Avery Albertson and Freddie Fowler cracked open the chilled Bollinger and touched their flutes together.
Fowler grinned. ‘I gotta say, seeing the way Thomas went down made the wait worth it. You were right, as always.’
Albertson returned the smile. ‘Three down,’ he said, ‘one to go.’
Chapter 43
A tall, distinguished-looking woman stood up when Sasha entered her chambers the next afternoon. Despite liking to announce callers, especially since Sasha had taken silk, Heather had permitted the visitor to wait for her boss’s arrival.
The PA went to make introductions but the woman cut her off. ‘My name is Dorothy Fulton, but you might know of me as Mary Fraser-Clark, Michael’s mother. Once married to Albert.’ She paused, apparently trying to read any reaction in Sasha.
Heather, wide-eyed, had a hand to her mouth.
‘I think you’d better come in,’ Sasha said.
Dorothy Fulton was in her mid to late seventies. She wore a simple black suit with an expensive teal silk wrap around her shoulders. Her short grey hair was stylishly cut and she had a barely perceptible cleft in her chin. She reminded Sasha of someone, but in the moment, just who it was eluded her.
Tilting her head to indicate that they should sit down in the leather chairs by the coffee table, Sasha said, ‘Mrs Fulton, perhaps you don’t know this, but the real Mary Fraser-Clark was found dead in Sydney late last year. October, I think it was. But I’m intrigued why you would claim to be her.’
‘Then I hope to hold your interest a little longer while I explain that the dead woman was in fact my late sister, whose identity I assumed more than forty years ago.’
Sasha frowned. ‘If this were true, you’ll know you helped send an innocent man, your late husband in fact, to his death. So, just at the moment, I’m finding this a rather incredible tale.’
‘I understand that, of course. I can assure you that the detail will convince you of my veracity.’ The woman spoke with quiet confidence.
Sasha folded her arms as if she was back in the courtroom. ‘Well, let’s start with where you’re living now.’
‘I arrived from Australia two days ago. I have a week’s accommodation booked at a motel in Papanui Road.’
‘And you’re living and travelling under the name Dorothy Fulton?’
The woman drew two passports from her purse. ‘Yes, that’s right. But I also have my original passport in the name of Mary Fraser-Clark.’
Sasha knew that proved nothing but let it pass. ‘You know I’m a barrister?’ The woman nodded. ‘Well, I don’t want to be unnecessarily difficult, but when I give legal advice or representation, I’m required to do so through an instructing solicitor.’
‘I understand,’ Dorothy replied. ‘But it’s not either of those things I want from you. I’m looking for help to find my son.’
‘Go on.
Dorothy sat forward. ‘Albert and I were married in Melbourne and came to New Zealand in the early 1950s. Michael would have been five then.’ The woman’s eyes filled and she stopped, as if steadying herself.
‘Albert was severely affected by the war. He found it difficult to stay out of trouble. We never remained in one place for more than a few months before he insisted we moved again.
‘When we came to New Zealand he was on the run, but he was never open about it. I believe the term now used is post-traumatic stress syndrome. That’s what I think he suffered from.
‘My father was an alcoholic and beat my mother. As children, my sister and I saw more than we should have, including watching him rape our mother. In the end he strangled her. While he was escaping from the police, he ran out of a bar and was run down by a man on a horse and killed. Before that, he’d been eyeing us up in the bathroom in the weeks before he killed mother. We knew we’d have been next.’
Sasha had always compared her own life with that of her school friends and often wished she could swap places with girls who had both a loving mother and a father. Not until she grew up did she understand that things weren’t always as they seemed.
Dorothy continued, her eyes on Sasha’s face. ‘When we were taken into care, my sister and I promised ourselves that we would never end up with a man like our father. But then we were abused by the nuns who were supposed to be looking after us.’
The older woman was calm, well-spoken and appeared to be well educated. Sasha’s hunch was this was a truthful account but she wondered what it had to do with Michael.
‘‘I won’t bore you with the sordid tales of what they did to us and how we managed to survive, but survive we did.’
Sasha’s thoughts went back to Mac. A sister in Australia. Albert told us she’d been a prostitute in Kings Cross. We speculated Mary could have gone there. ‘I don’t want to seem rude,’ said Sasha gently, ‘but how is what you’ve said relevant to me helping you find Michael?’
Dorothy nodded. ‘Of course. I’m sure you must be busy. Well, we had a double wedding in Melbourne in 1947. My sister married Hector, who was also a returned serviceman. I had an unhappy marriage and after Michael was born my life changed dramatically. Albert found it difficult being a father. He started drinking more and
became a lot more violent towards me. Michael saw some of this from his infancy on. I began to recognise the old pattern from my parents’ relationship. It was very frightening: before I left New Zealand, I was afraid that Albert would kill me. But he loved the boy, in his own way, and he would never have abused him. I wonder dear, if I could have some water.’
‘Of course.’ Sasha returned with a jug and two glasses. She filled them both and said, ‘Please carry on.’
‘When I disappeared during the 1954 general election, I knew I had to make it look as though it was forever or he’d have hunted me down. Albert was very possessive and controlling. I had to describe every detail of my day. He was super vigilant and every hour I couldn’t account for would result in a more severe beating. His attacks on me often followed vile accusations that I’d been having sex with every man I met.’
Mac’s words were in Sasha’s ear. The police checked every shipping manifest leaving Lyttelton but found nothing. ‘How did you get away without the police discovering you?’
‘Hector, bless him, was a specialist in historical documents before he went to the war. He later became the Chief Document Examiner for the Australian Federal Government. Three months before I left the country, I wrote to my sister telling her how afraid and distraught I was. I asked Dorothy if we could swap what was the equivalent of passports in those days. Even sending that letter was a major exercise in secrecy.
‘To my surprise, not only did I receive a passport back with Dorothy’s details and my photograph, but also a one-way berth and £200. In the end, Hector decided that if Dorothy were to use my full married name, well, it might have repercussions for one or both of us. So Dorothy used her second name, Alice, and reverted to her maiden surname. But we always kept a passport in Mary Fraser-Clark’s name. I then wrote to Albert’s sister Eileen, asking her to come out to New Zealand because we were both unwell and needed her to help look after Michael. I sent her £100 of the money Dorothy sent me and then I disappeared and assumed my new identity.’
Sasha couldn’t refrain any longer. ‘Why didn’t you take Michael? It was very cruel to abandon your son like that. Leaving him to face the fact that his father was blamed for murdering his mother.’
Dorothy bowed her head. ‘I accept your judgement of me, as I must. If I were you, I’d have the same view. I had no idea Albert would be charged, much less convicted of my murder. I had no idea that could happen without a body. I suppose it begs the question as to whether I would have done anything different. With my state of mind at the time, probably not.’
‘But you could have taken him, surely?’
A defiant shake of the head. ‘Taking Michael wouldn’t have worked, I honestly believed that. A woman travelling alone with a young child in those days was much more conspicuous than a woman travelling on her own.’
Sasha was incredulous. ‘And little Michael? What did you expect would happen to him?’
‘I always thought I’d come back. That’s why I kept a passport in my real name. I knew Eileen would come out to New Zealand, but how could I know she would take my son back to the UK so soon? She must have believed I was dead. Although I wrote to her from Sydney without disclosing my own address, I did give her an alternative contact. I never received a reply. I assumed she moved to more suitable premises once she took responsibility for raising Michael. She was in service.’
‘So it was your sister who died last year holding your identity as Mary?’
‘Indeed.’
Sasha took a sip of water. ‘I’m curious why you’re telling me all this now.’
‘Quite by chance, I found Michael last October when he was working in the Royal Sydney Hospital as Doctor Avery Albertson.’
Chapter 44
‘Are you all right, dear?’
The water in her mouth and the sudden intake of air had caused Sasha to have a coughing fit.
She hit the top of her chest several times. ‘I will be,’ Sasha croaked. ‘Please carry on.’
‘Alice, or should I say the real Dorothy, needed an operation to remove a tumour. Hector died about ten years ago. Alice never remarried and they had no children. It was me who helped Alice through her illness. It turned out that Michael was Alice’s anaesthetist. He didn’t know either of us, of course, but I knew him straight away. Some might call it a mother’s instinct. I decided it was fate, that in some way we were meant to be reunited. Dorothy died two weeks after her operation but she died as Mary Fraser-Clark.’
‘Why did you give her your true identity? Did it matter after all that time?’
The older woman nodded, then closed her eyes for a moment before responding. ‘Just before Dorothy died, I returned to the hospital and decided to confide in Michael. It was, as you can imagine, a very emotional time. He told me about your attempts to find him. He didn’t say how he knew, but I gather he knows that your motives were good. That’s how I learnt about Albert’s fate. I’d had no idea. It was a terrible shock.’
‘But how could that be?’ challenged Sasha. ‘In those days, an execution would be front-page news everywhere, for days, if not weeks.’
‘I agree. But Dorothy, Hector and I agreed that the fastest way I would adjust to my appalling situation was to avoid any news of home. Nothing at all. For six months we didn’t buy a newspaper or listen to the radio.’
‘So after talking to Michael, what did you decide?’
‘That the least I could do to put matters right was to give Dorothy my old identity. I rang the Sydney Morning Herald and gave them an anonymous tip that the elderly woman found dead in Newcastle was supposed to have been murdered by her husband forty years ago. That tip led to the posthumous pardon for Albert. That was all I could do. I did it more for Michael than for Albert.’
‘How did Michael react to meeting you after all those years?’
‘No surprise.’ She gave a dismissive wave of her hand. ‘He thought I was a mad woman. But I told him several things about his childhood that only his mother could have known. Then he knew the truth. He said he needed to think about what I’d said, but I knew by his cold reaction that I wouldn’t hear from him again, much less have an ongoing relationship with him. But in two days’ time he rang me on the number I’d given him. He said he’d be travelling to Christchurch on business before Christmas and again in the New Year. I understand he’s been here since.’
Sasha still wasn’t ready to share her encounter with Albertson or what she’d learnt from Mac. ‘Is he married? Does he have children?’
‘I know little of his personal life except that he has a friend who was once his patient. There’ll be no grandchildren for me, dear. Michael told me he was homosexual. I think he was trying to drive me away for good.’ Removing a photo from her purse, she said, ‘He did give me this, though. His friend’s in the background.’
Hiding her immediate recognition of both men, Sasha said, ‘He’s a good-looking man. Are you saying the other man came to Christchurch with Michael in the New Year?’
‘I believe so, yes.’
Sasha stared at the photo again. ‘Why do you think Michael changed his name and hasn’t sought me out, knowing I’ve been looking for him?’
‘I don’t really know. I imagine it’s his past. I think using the name Albertson is quite appropriate if he didn’t want to carry the notoriety of his father’s name, especially returning to Christchurch. But I believe it also signals he didn’t want to forget his father either.’
Sasha leant forward. ‘How did he seem – his state of mind, I mean?’
Dorothy looked up to the ceiling. ‘If anything, I’d say he was very aloof, distant. He was quite unemotional about seeing me. And he seemed, what’s the word? Distracted – preoccupied. I assumed it was because he was trying to decide if I was who I said I was.’
‘Do you know where Michael’s been living since he returned to Christchurch?’
‘No. That’s why I need your help. I want to find him because of my own health. Like my siste
r, I have a terminal illness. I’ve got six to twelve months.’
‘I’m very sorry to hear that.’ Sasha spoke quietly. ‘Are you having any treatment?’
‘Just pain relief now. I decided against chemotherapy.’
‘That sounds grim. I’m not sure what to say.’
‘You’re in good company.’ The older woman gave a tight-lipped smile.
‘Would you please excuse me for a minute while I make a call?’ Michael’s mother watched as Sasha moved back to her desk. ‘Gary, it’s Sasha. I’m fine, thanks. Look, when we were having a drink after my silk ceremony, you mentioned something that now makes me a bit curious.’ She paused. ‘Yes, that’s right. How many days did that file search occur before the news of the pardon was in The People? Right. And you personally attended to the man? Okay. Gary, I think it’s important to identify who that was. I have a photo of two men and I believe it may have been one of them. Would you pop around to my chambers and take a look. And can you bring that Fraser-Clark court file? Cheers. See you soon.’
She sat down again opposite Dorothy Fulton, noting the puzzled expression on her face.
‘A man who I think may have been your son or his friend was at the High Court office several months ago, before last Christmas, in fact. He was after details of the old case in which Albert was prosecuted and convicted of your murder. In itself, that’s not unusual. The court gets a lot of requests like that. What I find interesting is the timing. This search was a long way ahead of recent publicity about the pardon. And, if I have the timing right, it was in October, after Michael first became aware of you being alive.’
‘Does this indicate anything special?’
‘I’m not sure. I sense there’s a piece of the puzzle missing. There must be some connection between Michael finding out you weren’t murdered and what he was hoping to learn from the file. At this stage, all I can ask is that if you locate him, please let me know before you speak to him again. I’d like to borrow this photo and could you leave your contact details with Heather? I’ll contact you again when I’ve got something useful.’