As my Uncle Ross used to tell me, no matter how smart or how sneaky you are, you need to keep track of your secrets. And if you can’t manage that, hire someone to do it. And Jimbo had hired the best.
If anyone knew where the skeletons were, it would be Jimbo’s PA, Suzie Clarke.
Suzie had worked for Jimbo Jameson for twenty-four years, having previously worked as a typist in an advertising agency. Jimbo had been between fortunes then and was married to Lynnette for the first time. She had started as a temp with great speeds and a quick mind and had stayed with him through wives, girlfriends, fortunes and disasters. Her loyalty was legendary.
I phoned her to organise a time for our little chat, and she surprised me by suggesting we meet at her apartment at The Wharf. “I’ve got a miserable cold, and I really can’t face going outside yet,” she snuffled. “Tell you what, we can sit outside on the terrace and that way I won’t spread these revolting bugs to you. I’m just about out of everything but I can order something from downstairs.”
“Would this afternoon be good for you, Miss Clarke?” I asked.
She sneezed. “OK. Can you come around three? That will give me time to go back to bed for a while. I’m warning you. I’m contagious. But just call me when you get here and I’ll buzz you in.”
We had a few hours of paper shuffling and reports and pep talks from the chief, topped off with a long talk with the Office of the Director of Public Prosecutions about how the mafia money-laundering case was holding up now that they had lost their star witness. Marco and I had put so much work into that case and now it looked like all our work was going to be for nothing.
But through all this my thoughts kept returning to how to get my hands on Constable Jack. The object of my obsession floated happily from desk to desk, charming smiles from confirmed lesbians and the grumpy gay investigator who’d been seconded to the Task Force, blessedly unaware of what I was planning.
The Finger Wharf is a redeveloped wharf in Woolloomooloo. Part luxury hotel, part luxury private apartments with some very impressive residents, and a great strip of some of Sydney’s most fashionable eateries. Conspicuous consumption gone mad.
Suzie’s apartment was spacious, tasteful, with a killer view of the city. For a secretary, she’d done very well for herself.
But that day she had a streaming cold and was miserable. She was hiding behind large sunglasses and her eyes were puffy from crying or perhaps it was just the cold. “Thanks for coming. I’ve just got to get myself together, and I can’t. It’s those bloody wives. They’re driving me mad.
“I’ve put up with their stupid squabbling and bitching and carrying on and now that he’s dead I don’t have to do it anymore. They can sort themselves out and I’m not doing anything for that bastard Bradley. I’m out of there,” she said.
“The legal department is giving me a hard time and won’t help me, but I have to get those witches off my back. Can’t I take out an AVO against the lot of them?”
I had to smile. That would be a great way of making everyone go away.
“What are they doing? What’s been happening?” I sympathised.
“You know that I worked for Jim ever since I came to Sydney. And I started out loving my job, but everything changed. Jim changed. I changed. I was Faust, and he was the devil. He bought me, just like he bought everyone.
“He told me when I started working for him that he needed the ultimate secretary, and I was convinced that I could be that person, and I suppose I was. I was the one who took care of all the details, and I was the one who was left to tie up all the loose ends and clean up after his messes. I had to work out the details of when he would see his kids and I had to talk to the mothers because he wouldn’t. What a bloody coward. I was the bunny who bought the presents and organised the pickups and the dropoffs and the school fees and the allowances and the expenses. That was all me. I had to keep track of the paternity suits and the maintenance cases and the hush money and how to keep the wives away from the girlfriends and how to make sure the wives didn’t know what he was doing. Do you know how hard it is to have to tell a new mother that you don’t know where her husband is because you know that he’s in another country with his latest girlfriend? That tore me apart. And then there was the time that he bought a fabulous holiday at a charity auction for Tess for her birthday…and he didn’t take her. After making such a big deal about buying the holiday, he took someone else. I cried that time.
“And there was one time with Jacqueline when she told him that she liked a ring so he bought it for her as a birthday surprise. But Vanessa found it, so he gave it to her instead. Bad move. Stupid move. He could be so bloody stupid. Then Jac saw Vanessa wearing it at the races and all hell broke loose. She drove me mad, trying to find out why it was on the finger of a marketing assistant. This morning she was at me again about the ring, saying that I had aided and abetted theft and she would subpoena me in some court case she’s threatening everyone with. She’s been searching the Land Titles Department files and has found out that he bought the townhouse at Point Frederick, and has gone absolutely berserk.”
Suzie rummaged in her pocket for another tissue.
“And Anna has been calling me at all hours, demanding to know what’s going on and I just tell her that this is all up to the solicitors and the police, but she won’t leave me alone.
“Olivia phoned me at some ungodly hour this morning, wanting to know if Gabbie had called me or if she had been here lately. I don’t even know where she is and I don’t care anymore.” She blew her nose.
“Pardon?” I asked. “What do you mean, ‘she’? Isn’t Gabbie Jimbo’s son?”
“Oh, you don’t know about that, do you?” Suzie shredded the tissue. “Gabbie was born Gabriel, but he became Gabrielle a few years ago. Jim absolutely hit the roof and the fights were horrendous. Much worse than when Jace discovered dancing. He said that he would never see his son again, and then Gabbie said that he would kill Jim because of what he’d done to his mother and I know that they had a punch-up once and Jim broke Gabbie’s nose.”
“What happened to Olivia? What did Jameson do to Olivia?” I interrupted. This was like a soap opera plot.
“That was when they were married and they were skiing in New Zealand. Jim decided they should go off-piste, and Olivia had a bad fall. It took ages to get her out of the crevice, and she got frost-bite and lost her foot and became a paraplegic as well because she broke two vertebrae. It was a hard time for everyone, and then he left her in the hospital and went off with Lynnette again. Or was it the actress?” She blew her nose. “Even I get confused without my files sometimes. Anyway, Olivia went back to Venezuela to recover, and he divorced her. And then she married the most lovely man and moved to Connecticut. She’s never been back to Australia, but I kept in touch with her through Gabbie...” Suzie fished in her handbag and handed me a photograph, “…who had a series of operations and is now a beautiful woman.”
She was right. Gabrielle was certainly a stunner. Fabulous long blonde hair, and, from what I could see, incredible legs. I handed the photo to Jack just to see his reaction. I think the expression is “priceless”.
“When was the last time you saw Gabbie or heard from er…her?” I asked.
She put the photograph back in her wallet. “Not since after Christmas. She was really excited about going back to Brazil for Mardi Gras, and I told her that Jace was going to be there too. It could have been nice for them to meet because they hadn’t seen each other for about twenty years, but Jace said that he hadn’t been able to contact her. An old mate of his organises a float each year, and they put a lot of work into it. He blows off a lot of steam in Rio.” She sneezed, and apologised profusely. “You know, Jim didn’t understand how a son of his could like to dance, especially after Gabbie, but I don’t think he ever saw Jace in full flight. He’s amazing. He trains like an Olympian before Mardi Gras. There’s nothing soft about Jace.”
I’ll bet there isn’t. “Yes, he said he was in Rio when his father died,” I remembered.
“He goes to South America a couple of times every year. He has businesses in Venezuela and Brazil and he and a friend usually sponsor a float in the parade. Costs him a fortune, but says that if he’s paying the piper he can damn well dance to the music.”
We continued our talk until the sun went behind the city buildings and Suzie’s cold got worse. She was determined to resign from TenTen. She told us about the Wednesday woman and the suite he kept at the Observatory for his mates and their girlfriends and she knew about the Rohypnol and the cocaine and the other “party” stuff. She told us all about the jealousies and the politics and the politicians and the police and the payoffs and the children that no-one talked about and the children that everyone talked about. She wanted to put it all behind her.
I showed her a photograph of the dead woman who’d been found with Jimbo, that was taken at the morgue. Perhaps not the most flattering snap, but it was effective.
“Oh my god. Is she dead?”
“Yes. She was with Jimbo when he died. Do you know who she is?”
Suzie burst into tears and handed the photograph back to me. “That’s Chelsea Nevine. I’m not sure if that’s her real name, but I would see her with Jim sometimes.” She looked at me. “I’ve got her phone number, if that’s helpful. Just let me get my laptop.”
“There must be someone who’s missing her,” murmured Jack. “I just hope she doesn’t have kids.”
He’s sensitive, too.
Suzie came back with a print-out of her contacts. “These might come in handy, detective. And please let me know if you need to talk to me again. I hope you don’t mind, but I’m feeling so ghastly with this cold that all I want to do is crawl back into bed and pull the blanket over my head. I just wish this would all go away.” She looked terrible, but she was a good sport.
“And if it won’t go away, I’d like to jump on a plane to somewhere. Anywhere. I just don’t want to be around when Vanessa realises what he’s done to her. I just can’t go through that again.”
“What do you mean?”
“She thought that Jim was about to announce that he was leaving Jacqueline and moving in with her and they would marry when the divorce was final. What she doesn’t know is that Jim took a lease on a house in Mosman and he was moving in with Brooke.”
“Who is Brooke?” Her name hadn’t come up yet.
“She’s a flight attendant. On the company jet. Has been for a couple of years. She’s old enough to know better but stupid enough to get involved with the boss.” She rolled her eyes. “She’s been living it up in Mosman, and I hear has even joined the same gym as Anna because the Amex bill for the membership fees hit my desk last month. I just hope that Brooke hasn’t taken any phone shots of Anna sweating in a leotard. Or in the shower. If Anna finds out about this – and she will find out – she’ll implode. Because according to Anna, Mosman belongs to her. She’s the skim decaf soy latte queen of Mosman.”
“Can you give me Brooke’s contact details? We’ll have to add her to the list. What’s she like?”
“Different. Jim’s women are always different. This one’s twenty-nine, and has known Jim all his life. She thinks the sun shines out of his arse.” She rubbed her neck. “And I don’t want to be around when Sam Bradley finds out that she’s been sleeping with Jim.”
“Why?”
“Because she’s Brooke Bradley. Because she’s Sam Bradley’s daughter.”