The Stalking of Louise Copperfield

By Robert W Fisk

As adults, Louise Copperfield and Charlotte Hoar react in different ways to their experience at high school, one with emotional difficulties for which she blames herself and the other with feelings of worthlessness. Charlotte seeks vengeance for imagined injustices. Louise's husband, Frank, is lured into fraudulent practices that could see him in prison if Louise tells the authorities. Stuart Larcombe has a history that he does not want exposed. When Louise threatens both Larcombe and Bannister with exposure she becomes a target for murder.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Robert W Fisk
• Release date: Feb 19, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463070055

Robert W Fisk

Robert lives in Mosgiel, a small town near Dunedin, New Zealand. Robert has been a primary and secondary teacher and school Principal, and later was a Senior Manager of Special Programmes at the University of Otago Language Centre. His writing has been mainly research papers and reports, and while in Brunei Darussalam, a series of dramatised Radio Brunei scripts. He has always enjoyed reading light fiction and now turns his hand to writing it with six published books.

Book preview

1.

The characters and events portrayed in this story are fictional and are the creation of the author.  Any resemblance to actual events and people is purely coincidental.

This story contains themes of sexual molestation, jealousy, vengeance, neglect and abandonment, murder, violence, and alcohol dependence that could trigger emotional reactions with some people. 

It begins with a murder, a drunken bet, and a party.

The murder is of Town Councillor Joe Hamilton, opposed to Stuart Larcombe’s proposed development of an unstable hillside.  The bet is Frank Copperfield’s. The party is organised by Stuart Larcombe so he can win his bet with Frank Copperfield. 

2.

One Saturday afternoon in early November the council papers were sent to the elected councillors of the Wahanui Town Council.

Stan Rivers and Joe Hamilton, who were both on the Planning and Town Development Subcommittee, had decided to vote ‘No’ to an application for residential development in the Huatere area where the hills grew up out of the swamp flats and reclaimed land.

That land will slip, said Joe, who was in his seventies. The houses that are on the left-hand side should be okay. That hill on that side of the valley has very little overlay. The problem is the right-hand side. It is not safe to build there. Never has been.

Have you been approached by Larcombe’s lawyer? asked Stan, a retired police officer.

Yes. I told him to go to hell, said Joe. I said ‘we’ll decide on the facts given’. He never offered me money, though.

I think Stevenson has been, said Stan. I spoke to him earlier. He told me not to ruin things for everyone. Now there’s an interesting comment.

You think promises were made? asked Joe.

Everyone has their price, said Stan.

Not me, said Joe. I will never back down.

3.

The Planning and Town Development Subcommittee met on Wednesday, two days before the full council meeting. Both Stan and Joe were on that committee, with the mayor, Charles Cameron, Nigel Jones the chief planning officer who did not get a vote, Errol Stevenson, Annette Grieve and Michael Morrison. Councillor Sid Struthers was absent.

Their task was to make recommendations to the full council which would meet on Friday when proposals would be put to a vote.

The first issue was about a request for a letterbox to be placed within a hundred metres of a retirement village.

Well, we can certainly ask the postal service for a letterbox to be installed, but don’t hold your breath, said Charles Cameron. New Zealand Post is running its business into the ground, trying to save money instead of trying to earn it.

Charles Cameron loved talking. Allowed to go on, he could talk for an hour or longer on the failings of private enterprise attempting to provide services best left to local authorities like the Wahanui City Council or Central Government.

There are some services best left to local authorities or Central Government, continued Charles. Rubbish collection, mail services, land development...

Thank you, Mayor, Errol Stevenson interrupted. The land development issue. It is an interesting proposal.

Ah, yes, said the mayor, gathering his thoughts. He had not read the proposal to build a new housing development in Huatere Valley; he had just skimmed the headlines, knowing that he would catch the gist of matters as the Planning Committee conducted its normal laborious procedures. What do people think?

There are issues, said Stan. That land slips.

No evidence, said Stevenson.

Well, the surveys show it’s greasy-back, said Joe. Greasy-back was a light covering over a base of slippery clay.

The survey was made in the 1890s, said Stevenson. It is no longer relevant. Any further discussion? If not, I’ll move that the chief planning officer’s recommendations to approve the plan be accepted.

What are the recommendations? asked the mayor, having lost control of the meeting to Stevenson. Nigel?

Nigel Jones was a small man with a big voice when it was needed. Otherwise, he was softly spoken and polite. He answered carefully, That we accept the development plans subject to conditions that initially only ten houses are to be built, followed by a period of checking for earth movement and subsidence, and the proviso that pilings have to be sunk to bedrock.

Seems fair enough, said Stevenson.

You’ll kill someone if you approve this scheme, said Joe Hamilton. You know very well that land will slip as soon as the vegetation is cleared and access roads put in. It will slip down the valley to the sports fields below.

Too late for discussion, said Stevenson. We discussed all that before I put the motion. All those in favour?

There was a show of hands; two were raised in favour, three against.

I vote for, so that’s three for and three against, said the mayor. I’ll take a recommendation to give approval to full council on Friday, using my casting vote.

Mr Mayor, that is quite out of order, said Stan Rivers. Under our rules we need a clear majority not a casting vote, which operates only during full council meetings. I would ask you to delay the decision until the next planning meeting, allowing us to have a more recent survey done.

My decision is final, said Charles. Let’s move on.

No, said Joe Hamilton. I agree with Mr Rivers. In fact, I don’t see why the newspapers have been excluded from this meeting. We are not meeting in camera, are we?

In camera meant the meeting would be held behind closed doors, with only a general summary of business transacted being given in a press release. It also meant that what happened in the room was confidential and not for publication or comment to outsiders.

No, said the mayor, who was under the pump for his habit of running private and in camera meetings for important decisions. I don’t want the papers here because this proposal is commercially sensitive.

I move we take the matter before us in camera, said Stevenson. I thought we were in a closed meeting.

You can’t do that, said Joe Hamilton. You can’t hold a public session and then call it private. I think this should all be in the newspaper. The public have a right to know.

I agree, said Stan Rivers. Mr Jones, will you write a press release?

No, said Nigel Jones, the chief planning officer. All that has happened is we are going to take a proposal to a full council meeting.

Not quite all, said Joe Hamilton. By doing that we are recommending the proposal. If we didn’t support it, we would not take the issue to the full council. I still think it should be in the papers.

On your head be it, said Stevenson.

Gentlemen let’s move on. Mr Hamilton, I can’t stop you going to the press but I would strongly advise against it. You will lose my support for one thing, and the businesses involved in this plan could sue you if a premature release of their intentions, resulted in financial loss. Let us look at dog control. You see on the agenda the question of a park for dog walkers? Let’s deal with that.

The Planning Committee shuffled papers and went on to further business, leaving the issue of developing Huatere Valley for the full council to deal with.

4.

When he got home later that night, Errol Stevenson made a phone call to Stuart Larcombe, the developer of the proposed Huatere Valley project.

So it didn’t go through, Errol? Am I hearing you right? Or have you taken my money under false pretences? asked Larcombe.

Well, Stuart, it went through to council who have the final say, but the recommendation to adopt was not successful, Stevenson replied.

Who is the problem? asked Larcombe.

Two people will definitely speak against it, said Stevenson.

Give me names, said Larcombe.

The ex-cop, Rivers and the old school principal, Hamilton. He wants to go to the papers.

Stevenson was pleased to hand the problem on. He had done what he had been paid to do, to get the proposal before the full council, although it would have been better if there had been a positive recommendation. He knew that he and Charles had the numbers to push the deal through a full council meeting, as long as there was no adverse publicity in the meantime.

5.

There was an important rugby game on the Saturday, six days before the full council meeting had to make its final decision. People came from all over the province and, all over New Zealand because the match was a Ranfurly Shield Challenge being made by the Wahanui team. Although people complained that the season now started in February while cricket was still being played and continued into November, they still turned up in droves to see the game. Although it was a night-time game beginning at seven thirty, it was daylight until the end of the game at nine fifteen. Because it was the final game of the year, the Shield would be held by the winners until the Ranfurly Shield matches re-commenced in six months next July.

The Wahanui team won and there was great celebration. Joe Hamilton never missed a home game; he had a season ticket and his own seat. He was a local personality who would stand and raise his arms during a game to get the local crowd to roar.

He usually went to the Star and Garter after a game, where he would have two or three beers before walking home. His worries over council procedures forgotten for the moment, Joe declared that this was the best game he had ever seen.

It was dark by the time Joe left the pub around ten fifteen, but he never made it home. His body was found in the toilets in, a quiet corner of the park where school children practise at the cricket nets.

Joe had been brutally beaten. Sprayed in red paint on the wall above the stainless-steel hand basins were the words, ‘Death to hommos’.

On the night of the murder, before the newspaper was printed for the morning edition, a call was received by the duty editor.

Mr Mainwaring, I am Joseph Hamilton’s brother-in-law. Joe has been murdered. I helped him with an article on irregularities in Wahanui Council procedures. May I suggest we kill that article? I felt it was flawed through lack of direct evidence. Just one man’s opinion. I don’t want Joe’s memory tainted and the family does not want an uproar.

Damian Mainwaring had been in two minds about letting the story run. Joe Hamilton was a local personality and people enjoyed his often-salty comments, but this article depended on Joe’s reputation as a plain speaker and not much direct evidence. Dead, he could not defend his opinion.

I’ll look at doing that. Thank you, Mr—

The phone was dead. Mainwaring brought up the article written by Joe. It was featured on page 3, with a leader on corporate integrity. Better to drop it, which meant killing both. The leader was orphaned without Joe’s claims of Secret Squirrel procedures. The chief sub-editor was not going to be happy, but he could write Joe’s obit instead.

When the full council met, the Huatere Valley Housing Proposal was passed with one abstention, that of Stan Rivers.  Joe’s death was investigated by the police but other than death by murder after being mistaken as a homosexual by a person or persons unknown, there was no conclusion to the case.

6.

Louise Copperfield was a troubled lady.  She was keeping the family together until the children were old enough to leave home.  It was a struggle because Frank had become distant towards her.  He was so busy with his construction firm and now he was in league with the slimy Stuart Larcombe.

Stuart Larcombe was in his early fifties. He was slim and tall and distinguished looking, a businessman at the top of his game. He usually dressed in a business suit, even in New Zealand’s summertime. For casual wear he chose a polo shirt and chinos, especially when he went to a pub for a few drinks. Wearing a suit in a pub gave quite the wrong signals to other customers who saw the pub as a meeting ground for all levels of society and generally dressed down when they joined ‘the boys’ for a beer in the evening or after a game of rugby. Larcombe liked to think that he fitted in at any level, but his public-school accent marked him out as a well-educated Australian. Consequently, people around him treated him with a certain reserve. Larcombe was not married, and spoke as if he never had been.

It was not so with Frank Copperfield, his companion in the bar. As a consequence of being a very good rugby player in his younger days, he was popular and the centre of attention when he drank or partied. He still had an imposing figure, and he and his wife Louise made an attractive and popular couple. He had been known in rugby as a ‘hard man’, a term of respect awarded to few. Frank was taller than Stuart Larcombe but heavier, now sporting a beer belly that he tried to suck in to minimize the bulge. Where Stuart was dark haired and going grey at the edges as he entered his early fifties, Frank was florid and blonde. He kept his hair cut short to give the appearance of a military man, but his shoulders were becoming rounded and he tended to hunch his shoulders like an older man.

Where Larcombe was a financier and property developer used to boardrooms and meetings around a table, Frank was a builder with calloused hands who met his workers one on one. Both men employed secretaries; Larcombe had offices in a new building in the centre of Wahanui while Frank had rented space in a warehouse cum office block near the harbour.

Frank’s secretary had a helper, a salesman who sold new properties for Copperfield Building Limited. Frank largely left the paperwork to Clive the salesman and Pamela the secretary, although he always met his clients and kept in touch with them. He liked to take papers home each night to study them carefully in his office in the garage, which he kept locked when he was not at home.

Supervising his carpenters and labourers, keeping in touch with his clients, planning and designing, and checking on sales and accounts kept Frank very busy. He was often tired and drank too much.

Frank was married to Louise and for him things had not been going well. Louise was anxious about everything to the extent that Frank now excluded her from the details of his work. She was four years younger than Frank’s forty-six, still pretty and attractive. Her two children occupied most of her spare time; Kezia at sixteen was becoming a companion for her, and Alexander at seven was her baby.

Louise was a quiet person, a trained nurse, who could be vivacious but preferred to stay in Frank’s shadow. She did not enjoy being in a bar and did not like rugby but tolerated it for Frank’s sake. She was petite and came across as nervous, as if she carried the weight of the world on her shoulders. She carried heavy emotional baggage from her high school days, baggage she never talked about and still grieved about even twenty-six years later. She tended to clean and tidy excessively, which was perhaps a result of her nursing training or at another level an attempt to clean out the past.

Louise was liked by everyone, but she kept to herself especially as the children went through school. Alexander had meant the normal involvement in baby, toddler and newly at school activities but Louise was thankful those days had passed. The friend she talked to and saw most was Charlotte Hoar.

Charlotte usually made the running in the friendship. Charlotte was outgoing and breezy in contrast to Louise’s quiet pensiveness. She ran a shop selling fashion clothing for women. Being tall herself, she had an eye for elegant clothing for those with a more statuesque figure. Where Louise was dark haired and blue eyed, Charlotte had fair hair which she kept long enough to fall under her jawline but short enough to be manageable when she rode.

Her parents Tom and Alice Hoar had run a farm with sheep and pigs and a stud, so horses had been part of her life since her earliest times. She still went home regularly, enjoying exercising the horses that her parents now looked after when the stud lines were sold, and the farm became a stables and riding school. Sometimes Louise wondered why Charlotte with her elegance bothered with her, had stayed with her after high school and Louise’s return after training, and through Louise’s disastrous marriage to Julian Ricciardello, but Charlotte seemed to find an element of stability in the friendship. Charlotte’s descriptions of her many boyfriends kept Louise in stitches and left her wondering if Charlotte was sometimes making things up. Charlotte enjoyed sex even if Louise did not.

Charlotte’s life had been turbulent as she changed partners frequently. No man seemed to be able to keep her for long, except for Nigel, her current partner.

7.

Nigel Jones had been brought from Wales with his parents when they emigrated from Wales to New Zealand. A little younger than Louise and Charlotte, Nigel had attended primary school with them but when he was thirteen his parents sent him to a private boarding school, a school in Christchurch that his parents referred to as a ‘public school’ in the British way.

Nigel was at university in Christchurch when his parents decided to travel back to Wales. His mother Myfanwy had always regretted that her daughter had stayed in Wales and wished to visit her to see the two grandchildren while they were still little. The trip became permanent, with Dai and Myfanwy staying in Wales while Nigel made a life for himself in New Zealand.

At high school, Nigel played rugby, which was compulsory whether you enjoyed it or not. Saint George’s was a rugby school, attracting student enrolments through the school’s reputation for academic excellence and achievement in rugby. A small youth, Nigel was not suited to the game. Although he was fast on the field and gained standing because of his courage, he was easily singled out for ‘the treatment’ and spent much time off the field with his injuries. He played tennis, where again his lack of height militated against high attainment. He changed to squash racquets, at which he excelled. He won a school blue in Association Football, soccer, but there were no prizes for squash.

Being clever and studying hard at university brought Nigel excellent qualifications and fast promotion in his chosen field, local body administration. He worked in Dunedin and Hamilton before becoming the chief planning officer for Wahanui. He had a business relationship with both Frank Copperfield and Stuart Larcombe, a relationship that had developed into a financially rewarding but rather shady enterprise. Nigel pushed Copperfield Building and Larcombe Enterprises paperwork through approval and inspection processes and was richly rewarded with bonus payments, euphemistically called ‘consultation fees’.

Stuart Larcombe was planning a party to thank the people who had made the current project possible: the architect, the contractors they would be using, the mayor and council officers, bank manager, the rugby club management because their support was essential for the acquisition of a sports field at the foot of a hill, and various hangers-on. Frank seldom took Louise to such functions. She did not enjoy them and with Louise present he could not let his hair down with ‘the boys’, as he called the men friends with whom he had gone to school and played cricket and rugby. But Larcombe had insisted Louise be present.

She won’t come, Stuart, Frank had said. She doesn’t like this sort of thing.

I think she should be with you, Frank. I really want her to come, Stuart had replied, leering meaningfully as he said the word ‘come’, a look not noticed by Frank. How about I ask her myself? Will that help?

Frank knew it would have the opposite effect; if Larcombe asked her to go, Louise would run a mile. She was a very uptight lady

Why the heavy trip? he asked.

Because I’ve got a wager to win, Larcombe replied with another leer.

Frank thought back to a month ago and the drunken bet he had made when Frank was feeling frustrated and bitter. They had been at the pub, drinking together in a corner. It had been a stupid bet, through which, his business partner, Stuart Larcombe, had exploited Frank’s sense of frustration and his state of near inebriation.

Had a great one last night, said Larcombe. Just a young kid really but boy did she know how.

Frank remained silent. He always felt a little uncomfortable when Larcombe crowed about his sex life.

Are you getting any? asked Larcombe.

No, Frank had said. She’s absolutely frigid. Can’t stand being touched. I’d give a thousand bucks to anyone who managed to get my wife to have sex.

You’re on, said Larcombe, holding out his hand.

Frank was surprised. He thought for a second then shook the hand. But no drugs and no secret potions, legal or not. Just persh... just pershway—

Persuasion... Don’t worry, Frank. No dirty tricks, Larcombe said. Just the old Larcombe charm. She will get a thrill, and you might get lucky from then on. I’ll organise a party and do it when everyone is relaxed and happy. A party will give her an excuse.

Later, Frank had been agitated and very concerned. What had he done? He had been drunk, it was true, but you don’t gamble with your wife as the stake. That guy in the book he had to read at school did, the one that became the mayor of wherever it was. So, was Louise worth only a thousand dollars to him?

He had loved Louise but recently they seemed to have grown apart. On the other hand, truth will out when you are drunk. Had they passed the point of no return in their marriage?

But it wasn’t going to happen.

She’s too upright and too uptight, he thought. He liked the phrase and rolled it around in his head. Too upright and too uptight.

He thought that summed up Louise in a nutshell; her upbringing had given her very old-fashioned values and she was a nervous wreck all the time. There was no way Larcombe could win the wager. Louise need never know about it. And if she did, Frank was certain she would keep the experience as a deep dark secret, so he would be safe.

8.

Louise had been delighted when Frank asked her to the party, which was just after the New Year. She had a pretty blue outfit that was too much for ‘ordinary’ social events but just right for the wife of a businessman at a thank you social.

Wake up, you, dozy so-and-so, said Larcombe. Where have you been for the last five minutes?

Thinking, said Frank as he came back to the present. Thinking what I’m going to spend my thousand bucks on when I win.

Larcombe read Frank’s expression.

He regrets the wager, thinks it will never happen, Larcombe thought. He’ll have to learn to play games with the big boys. I’ll have to side-line him or he’ll be like the shepherd looking for the wolf all night.

Larcombe had played this trick several times in the past. Each time he set someone up, the husband was certain the wife would never come across, but Larcombe had not failed yet. He got a thrill out of the conquest and a thrill out of watching the man squirm. Even though the men thought they could safeguard their wives, there was always a way of separating the ewe from the shepherd no matter how vigilant the shepherd. At the thought of a shepherd looking after his sheep, Nigel Jones sprang to mind. It would be better to side-line him as well.

Frank was alarmed. Stuart had taken the drunken wager seriously. But Louise was never going to fall for Larcombe. She was man-shy, saw menace in every approach by a male. And to pull out of a bet meant social exclusion in the circles in which he moved.

I’ll ask her, he said. Better coming from me.

9.

David Bannister was pleased with himself. David was square faced with dark curls hanging over his brow, a tall Lord Byron. He was a teacher, had been all of his life, a job that gave him access to clubs and sports groups. He enjoyed a strong social life and had been president of the Wahanui Rugby Club. He had supported Frank Copperfield’s plan to turn a rugby field into a shopping mall. The field was at the foot of a hill, shaded and damp and cold to play on. The council had been willing to create another rugby field for junior players further out of town. It was a win-win situation, a no-brainer, even though it was strongly opposed by club members. Bannister pushed a deal through, the club was richly rewarded, and so was Bannister. Opposition soon faded away as the new sports field was developed and turned out to be a far better venue.  The old field sat empty, waiting to be developed by Larcombe and Copperfield.

Life was good for Bannister. He had worked his way through Wahanui High School from being a classroom teacher, to head of physical education and part-time maths teacher. He was now the school’s deputy principal. Both he and the principal, Ray Jackson, had been invited to a celebration party in the New Year. Ray Jackson would be cruising at that time and was not able to attend, happily leaving David to represent the school and the youth of the district.

There were setbacks.  Bannister’s wife had left him, taking the children, Roland and Amber, with her. Although there had been speculation that David had been caught having an affair, his reputation carried him through a difficult social time. He had been on his own for some years now, and in his early fifties was seen as a senior by younger associates. As a coach of sports and gymnastics he earned a well-deserved reputation for developing the sporting skills of both boys and girls. He gave much individual attention to students in his normal classes but especially so to the students in his sports teams and individual endeavours. He had assistants who taught some physical education classes as well as other subjects, so there always competition among students to get into Mr Bannister’s teams and coaching schools.

Wahanui High School students were formidable competitors in the inter-school tournaments. They won far more sports competitions any other school in the South Island, including the much-vaunted St Osyth Boys and Girls Colleges. Bannister was highly regarded by all.

10.

Stuart Larcombe gave Nigel Jones a budget to organise the party to celebrate receiving building approvals for the new housing project and the new supermarket. For a party of business associates, it was a generous budget but with strings attached; there had to be young women and there had to be something special to liven up the party. Nigel was an excellent organiser, but he was worried about Stuart’s ‘something special’ by which he assumed Larcombe meant recreational drugs. Although perfectly legal, these were expensive and could be risky.

Nigel was the chief town planner, a neat and careful man who worried that the use of any kind of drugs at a party could invite inquiry that might expose some business arrangements that were better kept out of public view. Nigel had no difficulty sourcing recreational drugs because there was a shop that sold ‘adult and novelty products’ at the far end of a side street in Wahanui.

Make your party go with a bang, said the scruffy young salesman behind the counter. You know, wham, bang, thank you ma’am.

Nigel thought that this was perhaps what Stuart Larcombe had in mind. The scruffy young man behind the counter had long dark hair and a pasty face with nascent pimples. He seemed to be sleep-deprived and spoke so softly that Nigel had to struggle to hear him.

I’m Jason, by the way. Private party or do you want some female company? asked the young attendant.

Mainly married couples, but there will be several singles, Nigel replied.

How many people altogether? asked the shop assistant.

Probably about sixty, Nigel replied.

I’ll get you six young men and six young women, then, said the shop assistant. Students. They party for free if you supply.

Nigel did not understand what he had to supply but he passed a fifty dollar note across the counter. Jason slipped it into the pocket of his jeans. Overall, the bill for the recreational drugs was quite reasonable even when he added on the fifty he had given to Jason for making arrangements to have the young people. Nigel cut the total of social mixers down to six, three of each sex, and gave his phone number for them to get the details.

Nigel had to get the alcohol. Nigel was not a drinker. A careful man, he was moderate in all things, seldom swearing, and never using the awful F word, which he thought demeaned women. Because he exercised regularly and did not smoke, Nigel looked younger than his thirty-nine years. His partner was Charlotte. She was known from school as Charlotte the Harlot, which was how she often introduced herself. He dodged the question of marriage because when the fancy took her, she would live up to her nickname. Nigel was strait-laced and chose to ignore her affairs, leaving the question of having children and marriage up in the air. Nigel did his best to head off any man who fancied his chances, but Nigel could not be with Charlotte all the time.

11.

The party began at nightfall, around nine thirty in a New Zealand summer. It was held in Stuart Larcombe’s house, a large two-storey building in Cadiz, a swanky area of town. Stuart had cleaners in and hired extra furniture. Being currently unmarried, he only used one bedroom upstairs, one of the three bathrooms, the downstairs sunroom, the lounge, dining room and kitchen. The cleaners were happy to re-organise