It would be faster, easier, and she'd make more money in the transaction.”
“You'll have to ask her, sir,” Ben replied. He leaned forward before he added quietly, “I suspect that it's a case in which she doesn't want her dealings to become public knowledge in the community in which she lives.”
“In other words, she doesn't want people to know that the MacPhaull horse is lame, blind, and wheezing.”
Ben smiled tightly. His gaze darted to the window and he grimaced. “I see Mr. Vanderhagen's carriage drawing up.”
Jackson quickly rose to his feet, finished the last of his coffee, put the cup on the tray, and handed the entire service to Ben, saying, “Here, take the coffeepot with you. I don't want that weasel here long enough to have a cup.” As the bookkeeper dutifully turned away with his burden, Jackson added, “One more thing, Ben.”
He stopped and looked back over his shoulder. “Yes, sir?”
“Actually two things. First I want a list of all the properties currently owned that are consuming rather than producing income. When you're done with that, I want a list of the MacPhaull properties sold in the last three years, the price Lindsay paid for each and what she got out of it when she sold it, as well as the name and address of the buyer. Not just the name of the company, Ben, but the names of the individuals who hold major interests in it. I also want to know the present status of each of those properties they purchased. If they've been sold, I want to know to whom and for how much.”
The corners of Ben's mouth tightened. “I expected that you would want that information, sir. I've already begun. Will there be anything else?”
“Naw. I figure that'll keep you busy for a week or two.”
“At the very least, sir,” Ben said with a taut smile. He started for the door, adding, “I should mention that it's Miss Lindsay's custom to arrive here at nine-thirty.”
“Thanks for the warning, Ben.”
Jackson raked his fingers through his hair, buttoned his shirtfront, and then found his tie where he'd tossed it aside the night before. Otis Vanderhagen's voice was booming through the outer office as Jackson pulled on his suit coat. Thanks to Benjamin Tipton's honesty, he had a few more answers than he'd had yesterday. If he could get a few out of Vanderhagen in the next thirty minutes, the day could be counted a success. If he could actually get Vanderhagen gone before Lindsay came sweeping through the door, it would be cause for celebration. The less reason he gave her for swinging a fist at him, the easier it was going to be to set things right with her.
“It's good to see that you've taken the helm so quickly and firmly, Stennett,” the lawyer declared, advancing into the room, his hand extended, the door standing wide open in his wake. From the other room, Ben glared briefly at the lawyer's back and then turned away to take care of the coffee service.
Jackson noted the bookkeeper's apparent animosity and then, with no other polite choice, shook Vanderhagen's hand and began. “Circumstances haven't allowed for the luxury of wasting time.”
“Yes, poor Patterson. So tragic,” Vanderhagen wheezed as he dropped down onto the sofa. “But I'm glad that you're a man of clear and decisive purpose. It will make my task this morning much less awkward and more easily concluded.”
Jackson eased down into his own chair, asking slowly, “And that task would be?”
Pulling a handkerchief from inside his coat, Vanderhagen began mopping his face as he answered, “I've spokenwith Dr. Bernard this morning at MacPhaull House. Although he didn't come right out and say it, I think it prudent to conclude that he doesn't expect Richard to recover from his lapse of yesterday. Under the terms of William MacPhaull's first Will, Richard's death would set into motion the transfer of company management. Henry, Mr. MacPhaull's eldest child and only male heir, would take the helm.”
“But Billy's later
“You'll have to ask her, sir,” Ben replied. He leaned forward before he added quietly, “I suspect that it's a case in which she doesn't want her dealings to become public knowledge in the community in which she lives.”
“In other words, she doesn't want people to know that the MacPhaull horse is lame, blind, and wheezing.”
Ben smiled tightly. His gaze darted to the window and he grimaced. “I see Mr. Vanderhagen's carriage drawing up.”
Jackson quickly rose to his feet, finished the last of his coffee, put the cup on the tray, and handed the entire service to Ben, saying, “Here, take the coffeepot with you. I don't want that weasel here long enough to have a cup.” As the bookkeeper dutifully turned away with his burden, Jackson added, “One more thing, Ben.”
He stopped and looked back over his shoulder. “Yes, sir?”
“Actually two things. First I want a list of all the properties currently owned that are consuming rather than producing income. When you're done with that, I want a list of the MacPhaull properties sold in the last three years, the price Lindsay paid for each and what she got out of it when she sold it, as well as the name and address of the buyer. Not just the name of the company, Ben, but the names of the individuals who hold major interests in it. I also want to know the present status of each of those properties they purchased. If they've been sold, I want to know to whom and for how much.”
The corners of Ben's mouth tightened. “I expected that you would want that information, sir. I've already begun. Will there be anything else?”
“Naw. I figure that'll keep you busy for a week or two.”
“At the very least, sir,” Ben said with a taut smile. He started for the door, adding, “I should mention that it's Miss Lindsay's custom to arrive here at nine-thirty.”
“Thanks for the warning, Ben.”
Jackson raked his fingers through his hair, buttoned his shirtfront, and then found his tie where he'd tossed it aside the night before. Otis Vanderhagen's voice was booming through the outer office as Jackson pulled on his suit coat. Thanks to Benjamin Tipton's honesty, he had a few more answers than he'd had yesterday. If he could get a few out of Vanderhagen in the next thirty minutes, the day could be counted a success. If he could actually get Vanderhagen gone before Lindsay came sweeping through the door, it would be cause for celebration. The less reason he gave her for swinging a fist at him, the easier it was going to be to set things right with her.
“It's good to see that you've taken the helm so quickly and firmly, Stennett,” the lawyer declared, advancing into the room, his hand extended, the door standing wide open in his wake. From the other room, Ben glared briefly at the lawyer's back and then turned away to take care of the coffee service.
Jackson noted the bookkeeper's apparent animosity and then, with no other polite choice, shook Vanderhagen's hand and began. “Circumstances haven't allowed for the luxury of wasting time.”
“Yes, poor Patterson. So tragic,” Vanderhagen wheezed as he dropped down onto the sofa. “But I'm glad that you're a man of clear and decisive purpose. It will make my task this morning much less awkward and more easily concluded.”
Jackson eased down into his own chair, asking slowly, “And that task would be?”
Pulling a handkerchief from inside his coat, Vanderhagen began mopping his face as he answered, “I've spokenwith Dr. Bernard this morning at MacPhaull House. Although he didn't come right out and say it, I think it prudent to conclude that he doesn't expect Richard to recover from his lapse of yesterday. Under the terms of William MacPhaull's first Will, Richard's death would set into motion the transfer of company management. Henry, Mr. MacPhaull's eldest child and only male heir, would take the helm.”
“But Billy's later
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