Chapter Thirteen
Monday dawned fair again, and having enjoyed a rather less arachnified night, Jack and Phryne breakfasted at a civilised hour, then decided that they would walk to the police station. Estelle gave them directions.
"It's easy – turn right out of the gate and cut down whichever of the streets to your right takes your fancy. Keep going until you get to Main Street, and turn left, and you'll see the station on your right."
Arm in arm, they strolled, and having taken the first available road to the centre of town, were soon ambling along Main Street, stopping now and then to look in shop windows. Phryne's attention was particularly caught by a scarlet cloche, and Jack turned to ask her how many hats she actually needed.
"Exactly one more than the number I currently have at any given moment, Jack," she said happily. "Oh!"
This last was because Jack, for no apparent reason, had been overtaken with a desire to display his affection for his new wife as publicly as possible, and had caught her in a kiss. She shut her eyes and went with the flow – he clearly liked her hats too, she decided – until she realised that his mind wasn't perhaps 100% on the task at hand. Cracking open her eyes a slit, she realised that he was looking over her shoulder at something.
On the one hand, she was interested to know what he'd seen; on the other hand, anyone who had the temerity to kiss Phryne Fisher purely for cover should definitely be made aware of the risk they were taking.
One gloved hand sneaked up to caress his cheek, while the other burrowed inside his coat, stealthily undoing buttons.
The desired effect was achieved. Next time she opened her eyes, she observed with satisfaction that she now had his undivided attention.
Eventually, a loud tut from a passer-by recalled them both to their senses; drifting reluctantly apart, they looked at each other with a heady mixture of heat and mirth.
"So, Detective Inspector, what did you see?" she asked, calmly rebuttoning her slightly unbuttoned husband.
"Not what – who," he said, slightly breathlessly. "Martin Baker. Coming out of the bank. He shook hands with a chap who went back inside."
He looked down at her and quirked a smile.
"If you've finished re-dressing me, Mrs Robinson, what do you say we go and enquire about opening a joint banking account?"
The chap Baker had met proved to be no less a personage than the manager of the bank, and he was delighted to take an impromptu meeting with a smart couple interested in bringing him business – at least until they were sitting in the privacy of his office, at which point he experienced something of a let-down.
Jack pulled out his badge. Phryne pulled out her business card. The manager stopped pulling out all the stops.
With a wary expression, he pressed his intercom and requested coffee for them all.
"How – within the bounds of client confidentiality – can I help you, Inspector? And Miss – er – Fisher?"
Jack quashed very quickly the quaint notion of confidentiality.
"We're embarked upon a murder investigation, and are currently closely focussing on one Martin Baker, who was seen a few minutes ago leaving your bank, having clearly concluded a piece of business. I would like you to explain what that business was."
The manager took a moment to compose his thoughts while the coffee arrived. As the door closed behind his secretary, he met Jack's gaze.
"Can I take it that if I don't give you what you need now, I'll be having Ned Stanford turn up on my doorstep ere long to make it all more complicated?"
"You can," smiled Phryne cheerfully. The manager sighed.
"I admit that I was already a little uncomfortable about the conversation I have just had with my client, and your presence only serves to underline that." He leaned both arms on his desk and laced his fingers together. "You are aware that Mr Baker is a property developer?"
They both nodded.
"He intends to build on a site owned by his family to the north of the town. I believe his plan is sensible, and that buyers will be forthcoming for whatever he builds there."
"However …" he hesitated, clearly choosing his words carefully, "Mr Baker is already quite heavily extended on his borrowings with us. The economy is not strong, and we need a degree of assurance that our faith in his business acumen will be rewarded."
"You asked for security," stated Jack.
"We did. We already hold first lien over the land itself, but the cost of the development isn't entirely covered, and we have asked for additional security in relation to a lesser, but important sum, for working capital."
"Might that additional security have the name Cora May?" asked Phryne, which won her a sharp glance from under the manager's brows.
"It might," he affirmed cautiously. "I understood initially that Mr Baker was meeting with opposition from certain other co-owners of the asset. This morning, he came to see me to confirm that he now has the necessary consents to place the boat's title with us, and I have confirmed that the working capital loan can be drawn upon."
Phryne met Jack's eye. He spoke up.
"Can I ask whether Mr Baker mentioned any events that might have taken place over the weekend, to explain the changed position?"
"He did not."
"Then, sir, you might wish to be a little careful about the extent to which you allow the loan to be drawn down," said Jack mildly. "Our investigation is ongoing, but there are certain constraints over the handling of the proceeds of crime, of which I'm sure you are aware. Put bluntly, one of the three co-owners of the boat was murdered on Saturday morning. We have, as yet, no proof of your client's involvement, but would suggest that for the moment, you hold off processing his loan any further."
The banker paled, thanked them, showed them out and reached into his bottom drawer for a medicinal tot to add to his coffee.