Deadly Investment (A Fitzjohn Mystery Book 5) by Jill Paterson Page B

business.’
    ‘Well, I doubt I can help you much with that. Being the office manager our paths didn’t cross often but I did see him from time to time when he came in to see Beatrice. They seemed to get along very well.’
    ‘Do you have any idea how the rest of the staff viewed him?’ continued Fitzjohn.
    ‘Well, I think. At least I never heard anything untoward said about him. Until last Monday, that is.’
    ‘The day that Max Ziegler was suspended?’ said Fitzjohn. Fiona nodded. ‘I take it you were in the office at the time?’
    ‘Yes, I was.’
    ‘And who did you hear speak ill of Mr Alexander?’
    ‘It was Max Ziegler. Of course, at the time, he was upset. Not surprisingly because it had been an unsettling day. First with Beatrice’s argument with him and then Preston’s. Not that I saw them arguing, but I could hear them shouting in Max’s office.’ And then, of course, Beatrice died that evening.’ Fiona threw her hands up in the air.
    ‘Do you remember who else was in the office that morning?’ asked Fitzjohn.
    Fiona thought for a moment. ‘Giles Enfield was in. He’s one of our agents. I noticed that he came out of his office into the hall when Beatrice was having words with Max. Oh, and Olive Glossop was here too. She assists the agents.’ Fiona paused. ‘That’s about all I can tell you, Chief Inspector.’
     
    Fitzjohn and Betts walked back through the vestibule and out along the gravel driveway.
    ‘From what Fiona Worth says, there doesn’t seem to be much transparency as to what might happen to the agency,’ said Betts. ‘I can see why she’s feeling as she does. She probably feels like she could lose her job at any time.’
    ‘Mmm. It’s an unnerving situation, but it seems to me that Alison Maybrick’s hands are tied with the embezzlement issue not to mention her step-mother’s death. No doubt the probate of her estate will hold some weight in determining what happens to the business. To tell you the truth, Betts, I don’t think she knows which way to turn.’
    ‘She’s certainly been thrown in at the deep end, and Mr Enfield’s absence can’t be helping. You’d think he’d have stuck around; at least until after the funeral.’
    ‘Mmm. It’s unfortunate that he didn’t, but it might be as Ms Maybrick said, that he was deeply affected by her step-mother’s death and needed to get away. After all, it would have been a distressing thing to see.’ Fitzjohn climbed into the car and pulled his seat belt on.
    ‘We could drive up to Port Stephens to speak to him, sir.’
    ‘No. It’s two hours away, Betts. I think our time is better spent here even though I’d liked to have spoken to all the staff before we talk to Max Ziegler. Anyway, we’ll content ourselves with Ziegler’s side of things for now. He lives in Wollstonecraft, doesn’t he?’
    ‘Yes, sir.’
    A short silence followed as Betts pulled away from the curb to merge into the oncoming traffic, leaving behind the agency’s gothic facade and gargoyles, now merely a silhouette against a menacing, slate grey, sky.
    ‘What time did Alison Maybrick say her step-mother’s funeral is on Monday?’ asked Fitzjohn at last.
    ‘Ten o’clock, sir.’
    ‘Good. We’ll make a point of being there,’ Fitzjohn replied.
     
    When they arrived in Wollstonecraft, Betts pulled up in front of a three story apartment building, its leafy grounds bordered by a low brick wall. Together the two officers made their way to the front entrance and pulled the glass door open. Inside, they found a small foyer with a notice board at the base of a set of stairs.
    ‘Which floor is Mr Ziegler’s apartment on?’ asked Fitzjohn as he peered up the stairwell.
    ‘The third, sir.’
    Fitzjohn groaned and watched Betts sprint ahead. ‘I hope you realise that I could have done that twenty years ago,’ he mumbled as he started his climb.
    ‘It’s the first door on the right,’ said Betts as Fitzjohn reached the landing.
    Moments