Chapter Two

When they rolled up at the Alfred they found not one, but two red-raggers waiting for them.

"Hello, Cec," Phryne greeted the other as she took stock of their surroundings. Hospital corridors were never particularly hospitable, and this one was clearly thinking of heading the race to the bottom. There was a chair - just the one. There was peeling paintwork. There was the perennial presence of the smell of antiseptic. And there were two gloomy-looking taxi drivers, who perked up visibly at the sight of Miss Fisher. "Bert didn't say you were both here?"

"I wasn't, Miss," answered Cec Yates hastily. "Bert phoned me to come."

"Thought I could do with a bit of support," growled Bert Johnson, rolling an unlit cigarette around the corner of his mouth.

"Two telephone calls!" remarked Phryne admiringly. "Oh, well, at least we can be reassured that you're not Chief Suspect quite yet, Albert." She glanced around again. "So, do you want to tell me what happened before Matron descends on us?"

Bert shrugged. "Not much more to tell you, really, Miss. Like I said, I picked up the bloke by the docks. Said he was sailing to Queensland on the Marella but she wouldn't be leaving till midnight and could I take him into town to get something to eat? So I tells him to hop in. After a few minutes, he says he's feeling a bit tired and he's just going to get a bit of shut-eye. No problem, I says. Looked at him in the mirror and he was sweating a bit, but it's a hot night, ain't it?"

The audience agreed that it was.

"So, I pulls up in Lonsdale Street like we'd agreed, and he doesn't wake up. I shout at 'im a bit, but he doesn't bat an eyelid; so I think I've got myself some sort of a joker, and go to haul him out of the cab."

He grimaced. "That's when I realised he was out for the count. So, I thinks if I'm to get my fare, I'd best get him brought round, so I comes 'ere, and then they tell me he's upped and died!" He looked round at them all, the grievance writ plainly on his face. "I ask yer!"

During the peroration, Phryne had given up pretending that she was happy to stand and appropriated the sole chair.

"Awful for you," she said mildly. "But you said Matron thinks it's your fault somehow?"

His face darkened. "Yer. Old witch - beggin' yer pardon, Miss - reckons I was driving recklessly and give 'im an 'eart attack."

Phryne snorted. "If that's it, Bert, dear, we'll have you home in no time. Anyone who accuses you of dangerous driving shouldn't be let out in traffic."

Those present tried not to let their faces show too clearly the general opinion of Miss Fisher and traffic; Mr Butler had an excellent poker face, but the red-raggers were less successful.

Help, however, came from an unexpected quarter.

"Miss Fisher! Very good to see you, but - good Lord, should you be out and about?"

The lady in question swung round in her seat, and smiled broadly.

"Ross McCafferty! How lovely to see you - now that I've almost forgiven you for leaving me onstage with no leading man." She extended a regal hand and the doctor bowed over it with exaggerated respect.

"The loss was entirely mine," he replied gallantly. "I'm only glad that the appendix I had to deal with was uncomplicated - and from everything I heard, my understudy rather upstaged me!"

She grinned, "Jack did make a rather good Jack, it has to be said - albeit if he does it again, he'll need to learn Mr Wilde's lines properly." She broke off and winced a little; and he was instantly alert.

"What is it?"

She flapped a hand. "Nothing. Have you been looking after Bert's passenger?"

McCafferty looked at her assessingly, but knowing enough to realise that there was no forcing Miss Fisher to submit to any care she hadn't personally requested, he shrugged and shook his head.

"I've looked at him; but I'm afraid he had died before he got here."

"A heart attack, I understand?"

"It looks very much like it."

"There you go then," interjected Cec, who'd remained silent up to that point, but saw a chance to stick in a helpful oar and grasped it with both hands. "Could've happened to anyone, right, doc?"

McCafferty pursed his lips. "Yes, it could; although I'd have said the man was a little young to be an obvious candidate. We don't know anything of his medical background."

At this point, they were interrupted by a stout woman of indeterminate age and a clear predilection for starch.

"You there!" she announced, and pointed a stern finger at Bert. Bert wasn't a fan of being pointed at, and the atmosphere chilled noticeably. He didn't deign to respond beyond an aggressive jerk of the chin, but Matron was by now in full flight.

"Doctor, I demand that you telephone the police. We have a dead body on our hands, and I would stake my considerable reputation on it that this man is responsible."

Phryne though privately that she'd rather place the woman on a considerable stake, but when she saw McCafferty starting to look harassed, decided to calm matters down a little.

"If I might make a suggestion, doctor?"

McCafferty only said "Yes, Miss Fisher?" but the look that accompanied it was as a drowning man being offered an entire life-raft, equipped with a gourmet restaurant and a fully-stocked bar.

"You were just saying that you would need to know more about the deceased in order to make a better assessment of the cause of death?" she asked delicately. He nodded. "Then, I believe I should be offered the opportunity to help build a case for my client's" at this Matron narrowed her eyes suspiciously, "defence, by discovering the information for you?"

"Preposterous!" exploded Matron. "As soon as he's out of our sight, he'll attack that woman, defenceless as she is!"

There was a short silence, while Dr McCafferty, Bert and Cec all tried not to laugh, Mr Butler's expression became more than usually akin to granite, and Miss Fisher's mouth dropped open.

Then she recovered. Pulling herself up to her full height, she looked down her nose at the older woman for as long as it took for the angry countenance to become by degrees confused, disconcerted and finally, apprehensive.

"I don't believe we've met," said Phryne with a slight smile, which was not reflected either in her glittering eyes or in any outstretched hand of greeting. "The Honourable Phryne Fisher. You need have no concern for my welfare at the hands of this gentleman," she glanced at Bert and gave a ghost of a wink. "Quite the opposite." (Whether this was to refer to the likelihood of her harming him instead was not made clear).

Bert spluttered into his handkerchief and Cec hastily raised his sleeve to cover his mouth.

"Now," Phryne looked firmly at Ross. "Would it be possible to review the deceased's effects?"

Speechlessly, Ross gestured to the open door opposite, and with queenly bearing, Miss Fisher exited the scene.

Stage left.