Golden Relic Page 8

“The Professor was found dead in the State Library. It is apparently a case of murder.”

  Maggie dropped into her chair. Her hands were shaking as she removed the lid of the box. Inside was a door key, and a note which read:

  Check the odyssey of Ouroboros.

  Safe no more.

  Return to the finder, from the words

  of the Bard. Sweet bugger all

  back here is the key to Thomas’s clue.

  “What is it Maggie?” Carmel asked.

  “I have absolutely no idea,” Maggie stated. “But I have to go to Melbourne.”

  Chapter Four

  Melbourne, September 18, 1998

  “No worries, we’ll do that next, Jack.” Sam disconnected the call and snapped her mobile shut. “Were was I? Oh yes. If we can assume, for the moment, that Professor Marsden’s murder has nothing to do with the ICOM Conference then, in order to narrow down the field of possible suspects, I need a better understanding of the man himself. You can help to a certain extent, Mr Prescott, but I believe a Dr Maggie Tremaine knew him quite well.”

  “Better than anyone, I’d say,” Prescott nodded. “But Maggie’s in Sydney. Well, actually she’s due back there from Paris today. I could have Anton check to see if she’s put in an appearance at the University. He could arrange a time for you to call.” Prescott pushed the speaker button on his phone, dialled Anton and asked him to ring Maggie.

  “Dr Tremaine just rang you, Mr Prescott,” Anton stated.

  “Why didn’t you put her through?” Prescott demanded.

  “You said to hold all your calls.”

  “Oh. Well, call her back will you, there’s a good lad.”

  “It’s probably too late, she was just leaving. She already knew about Professor Marsden, and said to tell you she’ll see you tomorrow. She’s catching a morning flight to Melbourne.”

  “It seems, Detective Diamond,” Prescott said, switching off the speaker without further ado, or anything resembling a ‘thank you Anton’, “that I may be able to arrange a time for you to meet with Maggie, in person.”

  Sam nodded her thanks. She was thinking, however, that if Prescott’s treatment of Anton was anything to go by, the Assistant Director’s entire staff probably wanted to ruin his precious Conference - just to see him squirm. She decided it probably would be more profitable to ask Anton for a list of people who were ticked off with Prescott or the Museum.

  “Can you tell me about Professor Marsden’s trip to Peru?”

  “Which one?” Prescott asked.

  “His next one,” Sam replied. “He was supposed to fly to Lima tomorrow.”

  “Was he?” Prescott reached for his phone again and for a moment Sam thought he was going to get Anton to explain that hitherto unknown fact, but he spoke this time to someone in personnel. Hanging up, again abruptly, he said, “Lloyd asked, at short notice, for three weeks leave. This Peru trip had nothing to do with the Museum, at least not directly. Knowing Lloyd though, he would have returned with a request for funding to acquire some ‘thing’ or other.”

  Sam looked puzzled. “Marsden was liaison for the visiting exhibition, which starts next week, and on the committee for the Conference, which starts in three weeks, and yet he was just going to fly off to Peru for a holiday?”

  “Lloyd pretty much did what he felt like around here,” Prescott said shaking his head.

  “You said short notice,” Rivers said. “When did he apply for leave?”

  “Apply? Last Friday he told personnel he was taking three weeks, from the end of today.”

  Rivers consulted his notebook. “That was the day he spoke to Ellington about the lawyer.”

  “And the day after he saw the lawyer himself,” Sam stated. “Mr Prescott, I believe you said that Haddon Gould was pi��� um, resentful of Marsden over funding issues,” Sam said.

  “Yes, but that’s old history,” Prescott qualified. “Lloyd was simply more eloquent than Haddon and better able to state his case for research funding or money for acquisitions. That changed completely with the restructure of the Museum a couple of years ago. Lloyd was getting less for his pet projects while Haddon’s field of expertise became encompassed in the Environmental Conservation Program, one of our key areas of development. In fact Lloyd’s whole collection, South American antiquities, is something of an anomaly within the new structure. We’re still trying to find a place for it.”

  “You mean in the new Museum when it’s finished?” Rivers asked.

  “No. I mean in the grand scheme of things,” Prescott explained. “New technologies, especially in the arena of information gathering, storage, dissemination and access, are radically changing the way the world communicates. It’s had and, as we approach the threshold of the new millennium, is still having a revolutionary impact on the role of museums in society.”

  “I’m sure it is, Mr Prescott,” Sam interrupted, trying to avoid another lecture on museum practices, “but why should that adversely affect Professor Marsden’s collection?”

  “With its restructure, the Museum of Victoria has developed a unique philosophy and mission to improve the understanding of ourselves and the world in which we live.”

  “That’s nice and vague,” Sam commented. “I thought museums have always done that.”

  “Well, yes,” Prescott bristled. “But the new Melbourne Museum will be a living museum, a place full of activity and interaction. Much like Scienceworks. Have you been there?”

  “Yes, it was quite an experience.” Sam gave up trying to keep Prescott on track. She watched his hands, noting the gestures were quite deliberate as if he’d had lessons in motivational speaking.

  “Then you should understand the difference between the static 19th century style displays of specimens and artefacts in glass cases, and the interactive exhibits of the modern museum. Museum policy has historically been driven by research, education and collections. While research and education are still paramount in our mission for the future, our traditional role of collecting, preserving and displaying artefacts is evolving to fit the new philosophy of providing an institution that will benefit the whole community. The new Melbourne Museum will be deliberately outward looking and audience focussed, with an emphasis on public programs that are relevant, involving and educational.”

  “But how did this affect the Professor?” Rivers took a turn at guiding Prescott to the point.

  “It’s been a giant leap in thinking and application from those inanimate institutions of the past to the dynamic museums of the future,” Prescott continued, seemingly undeterred. “Lloyd didn’t want to make that leap. He was a traditionalist, a collector, and he hated change. I think the future frightened the hell out him actually.”

  “Are you saying Marsden’s collection was denied a place in the new Museum because he refused to change his thinking?” Sam asked.

  “Of course not,” Prescott pronounced. “But our new charter provides for priority areas in which to deliver broad-based public programs with the best possible research, information, and content. We have six programs, Environmental Conservation, Indigenous Cultures, Australian Society, Human Mind and Body, and Technology in Society. Lloyd’s collection as you can see fits none of these categories.”

  “What was going to happen to it?” Sam asked.

  “It will still go into storage until a suitable home can be found for it.”

  “It seems like Professor Marsden had a better reason for being a murderer than meeting his death at the hands of one,” Sam noted.

  Prescott actually laughed. “It may seem that way, but it didn’t particularly worry him where his collection was housed as long as it was kept intact. Lloyd was a bit of a bower bird if the truth be known but his collection is very valuable, in terms of historical significance. We had no intention of giving it up or keeping it in storage forever but when he threatened to resign, during the restructure, we gave a firm commitment that a permanent space would be found by the end of 1999. We simply couldn�
�t afford to lose his expertise.”

  “You said the Professor didn’t care where his collection was kept, yet he threatened to resign over it,” Sam noted.

  “It wasn’t over that. Lloyd just didn’t approve of the new direction. I suppose you’ve noticed that museum people are passionate about what they do. Lloyd, unfortunately, was passionately old-fashioned. I assigned him to the ICOM committee in the hope that involving in him in the preparations would help him understand our vision for the 21st century.”

  “That could have been risky,” Rivers commented.

  “No, not really. Lloyd could always be counted on to put his heart and soul into whatever he was doing. He was also a pragmatist; he knew he couldn’t stop progress. So he did what he always did - worked tirelessly and argued like mad.”

  “What is Haddon Gould’s story?” Sam asked.

  Prescott hesitated a moment, as if he had to retrieve the name from a filing cabinet located in the depths in his mind. “Haddon thinks the Museum is here for him. He’s a collector, much like Lloyd, but less talented and with a tendency to whinge. Needless to say, he was quite pleased with the restructure. The term ‘living museum’ that I used before, applies particularly to a key environmental feature of the new Museum - an interpretive area we’re calling the Gallery of Life. This will be a living temperate forest with plants, birds, fish and insects.”

  “And this was Dr Gould’s idea?” Sam queried.

  “Good heavens, no,” Prescott exclaimed. “Haddon hasn’t had an original thought in decades. But we will be using some of his plant collection.”

  “Did the restructure affect anyone else apart from Professor Marsden?” Sam asked.

  “Yes and no,” Prescott smiled. “Morale within the museum community is bound up with issues like whether the institution is supporting or betraying individual ideals. The pay is never good, but as I said earlier our staff are passionate; they work for the love of it. When we announced that changes were on the horizon everyone, and I mean everyone, went into a flat panic. Understandable you might think when, in the outside world if an organisation the size of ours announces a restructure it means downsizing, or whatever euphemism they’re using this year. But here, not one single person lost their job, they simply got new titles and that caused a great deal of angst.” Prescott seemed to find this highly amusing.

  “You said earlier that the Conference will be addressing the resolution of international issues such as the repatriation of cultural material���” Sam hesitated because she noticed that Rivers seemed to have lost his place in his notebook. He was flipping back the pages and looking quite puzzled. “Are you okay, Rivers?”

  “Yeah,” he nodded. “Sorry.”

  “The return of cultural property is a key issue,” Prescott replied, “But I think Julia Cooper from our Indigenous Cultures Program could best explain the concept for you.”

  “I understand the concept Mr Prescott, I just wanted to verify whether this was another thing that Professor Marsden had a problem with.”

  “My word yes. Giving things back is quite an alien concept for a professional collector.”

  Sam called into Anton’s office after leaving Prescott and asked him to compile a list of past and present employees with possible grievances.

  “You don’t really think one of us killed the Professor?”

  “It’s a sad fact, Anton, that murderers usually kill someone they know. But I actually need this list for something else. Are you aware of the postcard Mr Prescott received?”

  “Everybody knows about that,” Anton replied. “He thought it was a sick joke but it upset him enough to send an office email stating that he did not appreciate the humour, and if he ever found out who sent it, that person would be jobless. Is the postcard connected to the murder?”

  “We’re not sure. I have asked Mr Prescott for a similar list but I suspect���”

  “The Assistant Director wouldn’t know what to look for or who to consider,” Anton agreed.

  “That reminds me,” Sam said, “why are we dealing with the AD? Where is the Director?”

  “Mr Buchanan hasn’t been well. He took long service leave and left Mr Prescott in charge.”

  “Detective Diamond, I mean Sam,” Rivers began, as they took the lift down to the carpark. “I hope I wasn’t out of line asking questions when you were interviewing Prescott.”

  “No, of course not,” Sam assured him. “That’s what we’re here for - to ask questions.”

  “Good, ‘cause I have to say my money’s on that windbag Prescott being the murderer.”

  “You’re not serious,” Sam laughed.

  Rivers shrugged and grinned. “There’s something really suss about a bloke who’s so obsessively neat. There was nothing on his desk, it makes you wonder what he does all day.”

  “It doesn’t mean he goes around knocking off his staff,” Sam said. “Personally I think the man is a victim of the end-of-the-century paranoia virus. He’s got the particularly virulent strain that makes him irrationally suspicious but completely clueless.” Sam rubbed her forehead and lowered her voice to mimic Prescott: “I am nonetheless fearful that there is a saboteur at large bent on ruining our conference. Lloyd’s death alone is proof of that.”

  “How the hell do you do that?” Rivers asked, as they exited the lift and headed for his car.

  “Do what? I didn’t sound anything like Prescott.”

  “No, how do you remember all that stuff? I can recall the gist of something but I have to refer to my notes for the specifics. But you remember names, titles, dates and when you refer to what someone said you repeat it verbatim. I know, because I checked when you asked Prescott about the cultural stuff on the conference agenda.”

  “The cultural ‘stuff’? See, you do remember what he said.”

  “Yeah,” Rivers snorted, “the ‘stuff’ but not the substance.”

  Sam smiled. “Well, I’m good with the substance. I don’t take notes because I don’t need to, that’s why Jack assigned you to do the rounds with me. Mind you, I doubt he meant for you to record every word of every conversation. He just wants the facts.”

  “I haven’t worked with Detective Rigby before,” Rivers said, unlocking his car, “so I don’t know what he wants. He did, however, tell Barstoc this morning that ‘everything’ is relevant. So until I know, what is and isn’t���” he shrugged. “Besides, it’s good practice.”

  “True, but while you’re practicing, you’re listening and writing, not hearing and processing.”

  “Processing? Is that something they teach you at the Bureau?” Rivers asked.

  “No, I’ve always been a processor. Plus I’ve got a lot of RAM and a huge hard drive.”

  Rivers laughed, and made a left turn out of the carpark onto Lonsdale St. “Where to now?”

  “The Alfred Hospital. Jack wants us to talk to Gould while he finishes up at the Library.”

  Haddon Gould appeared remarkably fit for someone who’d undergone an emergency appendectomy the day before, but then the man was also considerably younger than Sam had expected. She’d wrongly assumed that the three ‘professional collectors’ were peers in age as well as occupation. Professor Marsden had been 61 although his face, racked as it was by the poisons that killed him, made him look closer to 80; and Robert Ellington had muttered something about what he’d do with his retirement package in three years.

  Gould, on the other hand, wasn’t a day over a hale and hearty 50. His hospital gown, usually an item of clothing about as far removed from a fashion statement as a garment can get, looked like it had been designed especially to let him show off his tanned and muscled arms. His blue eyes matched his Nordic blonde hair but his face was otherwise quite plain.

  “Ah, the police, I assume. My wife said you’d be calling to talk about Lloyd.”

  “I’m Detective Diamond, this is Constable Rivers. I promise we won’t take too much time.”

  Gould waved his arm towards the vis
itor’s chairs. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “We’d like to verify the time you saw Professor Marsden on Wednesday.”

  “Well, we ignored each other while having coffee in the tea room around 2 pm,” Gould stated. “Duncan Jones was there too, because I remember Lloyd telling him he had to go over to the Exhibition Building to see the curator and Peter. Lloyd then left with Sarah Collins. Later���”

  “Just back up a sec, please Mr Gould,” Sam interrupted. “Peter who?”

  “Oh, what’s his name?” Gould drummed his fingers on the tray table. “Ah! Gilchrist. Lloyd’s assistant. He’s a student. A very focussed and driven young man, but a tad peculiar.”

  Sam glanced at Rivers whose expression indicated he’d never heard of Gilchrist either.

  “You said ‘later’ Mr Gould. Did you see the Professor again that day?” Rivers asked.

  “Yes. Later in the afternoon I went looking for him to talk about his Peru trip.”

  “What time was that?” Sam asked. They’d only known about Gould, and indeed Sarah Collins from the PR department, because of the statement given by Duncan Jones, after he’d found the Professor’s body.

  “Maybe just after 5.30,” Gould said vaguely.

  “Really?” Sam said, unable to mask her surprise. “Did anyone see you talking?”

  “Not that I’m aware of. Why, what difference does it make?”

  “Until now, the last known person to see the Professor was a security guard at 5.20. You may have been the last to see him alive.”

  “Oh dear. Um, I should perhaps tell you then, I don’t know whether anyone heard us, but Lloyd and I had a very loud argument. Well, I was loud; Lloyd was being irritatingly pacific.”

  “What were you arguing about?” Sam asked.

  Gould ran his hands through his hair. “I was just about to go home when I heard, from Sarah, that Lloyd had decided to up and fly off to Peru. I was annoyed. No, I was extremely angry. I let him know, in no uncertain terms, how irresponsible he was. He was on the ICOM committee yet he was just going to piss off to South America on a whim.”