Chapter Four
When Fisher & Williams, Inc, drew up outside the offices of Jackson Construction in Miss Fisher's shiny, red Hispano-Suiza, their plan of attack was already drawn up. Introducing themselves to the receptionist, they made their way to the office of William Jackson, at which point they split up: Phryne engaged the secretary's services to gain access to the inner sanctum, presently occupied by Charles Jackson; Dorothy hung back and waited for the secretary to emerge.
"Mr Jackson? Thank you for seeing me without an appointment." Phryne stuck out her hand for him to shake, and then presented her card with the other. "My colleague, Miss Williams and I have been engaged by your sister-in-law to look into Mr William Jackson's disappearance."
The portly gentleman on the other side of the desk, advancing prematurely to middle age with the assistance of (Phryne guessed) a taste for fatty foods and fine wines, pursed his lips and shook his head sorrowfully.
"Poor, dear Genevieve. If only she could accept what is so very plain to see," he said.
Phryne shrugged. "I confess, Mr Jackson, my reaction when I first heard the story was much the same as yours. However, our client has engaged us to investigate, and investigate we therefore must. You were with the family on the day William disappeared?"
He nodded. "We often do things together. William tried to get our mother out of the house as much as possible – her health is failing – so I was often wheeled out to help either with her or with the children."
"And there was no sign of him when you went to fetch him at the end of the afternoon?"
"None. It was that which made me decide that he must have deliberately arranged it in this way – to disappear when only the family were aware."
It was an angle Phryne hadn't previously considered but it made a kind of sense.
"It seems odd that no-one had any suspicion of his affair before he disappeared," mused Phryne. "It was you who found the clues, I gather?"
"Indeed. I came in here on the Monday morning to try and find the paperwork for our latest deals, and the first thing I found in his desk drawer was the bundle of letters. Have you seen them?"
"I have," grimaced Phryne. "Not the most edifying read."
"Nauseating" agreed Charles. "A greater contrast with Genevieve would be hard to imagine – although perhaps that was the attraction."
Phryne decided to change the subject. "You said there were some deals going on. Is the business ... healthy?"
He smiled. "Very much so – and about to become even healthier. We've traditionally been builders of new houses, but our latest venture is a development to create apartments from an existing building in South Yarra. We're going to make a dozen properties out of six."
Phryne attempted a smile. Shoeboxes, I'll be bound she thought. "Who owns the company?"
"We both do. Well, the three of us, really, but Genevieve is more of a sleeping partner. William and I each have forty percent of the shares and Genevieve has the rest."
"I see." Phryne commented. "Well, thank you for your time, Mr Jackson." She stood to walk to the door, and her eye was caught by a picture on the wall. Two men, one tall, the other short – a younger version of the man before her – were ceremonially cutting a ribbon. Both had one hand on the cutting knife and the other raised in a victorious wave. She glanced back.
"Is this William?" she asked, and turned to look more closely at the picture. There was little resemblance between the two men. Her eye was caught by the hand of the taller one. "Is there something wrong with his hand?"
Charles strolled over to stand by her. "Yes, that's him. That was our first major development. And well spotted – William lost half of his little finger in an accident on site. He would insist on doing all the jobs at least once, and the chisel proved sharper than he expected. That was one time he definitely regretted his enthusiasm for the job!"
As Phryne opened the office door, both Dot and the secretary glanced up guiltily. "Only me, Miss Williams!" she carolled cheerfully. "Are you ready to go?"
Dot smiled up at her. "I think so. Thank you very much for your time, Miss Battersby, you've been most helpful."
No words were spoken by either sleuth as they descended to the car, but once they were ensconced, Phryne turned to Dot.
"That looked like it went well – what did you get?" she asked eagerly, pushing the starter.
Dot grinned.
"There's one person who agrees with our client, Miss. Miss Battersby doesn't believe it about the affair either."
"Well, they do say that no man is a hero to his valet – I expect it's pretty tough to pull the wool over his secretary's eyes too," mused Phryne as she slipped the Hispano neatly through a gap between two delivery lorries. It was a testament Dot's experience that she barely even closed her eyes.
"Absolutely, Miss. And the other point she made was that she couldn't actually work out when this supposed affair was taking place. She always knew where he was, and she's quite certain there weren't any assignations in hotel rooms. When I asked her, straight out, whether she thought he'd been having an affair, she simply said, 'When?' and showed me his diary."
Phryne tilted her head in line with the steering wheel as they screeched around a corner.
"Good work, Dot – but it's made our job harder."
She turned to face Dot directly, regardless of the speed at which they were overtaking the traffic on the road in front of them. Dot gulped.
"If he's not with this mysterious Anna, Dot – where on earth can he be? And why is someone trying to make the world think he's run off with another woman?"
