If one looked closely one could still see the blood stains on the splendorous carpet, a fine piece of Persian work, high knot density, and very rich in its details, as the honourable Miss Fisher noted a few minutes ago.
"Jealousy, a crime of passion, don't you think, Inspector?" Miss Fisher asked and turned around, giving him this sweet and second-to-none-smile she always used when she found something important.
"Beg your pardon, Miss Fisher?" The Inspector answered and noticed the nifty movement of her hand, which opened a secret drawer in the desk.
"Love letters. Always an interesting read." She said, taking a pile of papers out of the drawer and sniffed at it. "Mitsouko, Guerlain it is."
"I see. May I?" The Inspector asked and reached out for the letters.
"Uh-uh. Secrets beyond ladies. I found them, so it's me first. Are you familiar with the case of Edith Thompson?"
"Not that I remember, Miss Fisher. Collins?"
"No, sir." Collins answered and shook his head.
"Oh, it was a case in London, Inspector, not in Melbourne. Mrs. Thompson's lover killed her husband and because of the very ... explicit letters she wrote to her lover she ended at the scaffold, in Holloway Prison in London. It was tragic. Even her executioner was so deeply shocked he tried to commit suicide afterwards."
"How direful. Did she give a summary of plotting the murder of her husband in her letters?" Jake asked and Miss Fisher sighed: "No. The letters were scandalous in another way. If you ever asked yourself how it feels for a woman to experience an orgasm, these letters I could recommend."
She winked at the Inspector and gave the blushing Constable a big smile before opening the first envelope. The Inspector turned around, searching the mantlepiece for whatever evidence you could find between candles, a vase and a statuette of Juno. Or Artemis.
Miss Fisher's lovely voice sounded excited as she spoke again: "Do you remember the night your tongue did this little dance all around the entrance to paradise? Dear Matthew wanted to call for the police, not knowing what a real man like you can do to a woman. Not many men know how to transform a decent wife into a screaming, begging mess – do you remember? We laughed so much about poor Matthew. I needed an unscheduled appointment with my coiffeur after that night, because my hair was a spectacular catastrophe in the morning. I remember every second of bliss, every touch. I'm looking forward to the first week in October, when we'll meet again. I can barely wait to close my lips around your ..."
"Thank you, Miss Fisher, I think we got the picture." The Inspector interrupted, not able to take his eyes of her face, shining with joy, red lips forming these scandalous words, painting pictures in his head.
He took a deep breath and left the mantlepiece well enough alone. With two steps he stood at her side, picking the letters out of her hands.
"Confiscated. Mr. Collins? Mrs. Parks, the housekeeper, is waiting for us in the kitchen. The usual questions, please. I'm joining you in a minute."
"Sir." Collins said, suggesting a little bow to Miss Fisher and left the room.
"If you have problems reading the letters, Inspector ... her handwriting is as messy as her hair after a long night of ... screaming ... of laughter, I'd volunteer to read them for you. Aloud, if you want to join me." She winked and walked gracefully out of the room.
The Inspector swallowed hard and closed his eyes for a second, trying to force his semi-erection down by pure will power. But her lips, closed around ...
"Miss Fisher?" He called. "Are you free for dinner tonight?"