Chapter Two

Persuading Elizabeth to come away from Luna Park without Jack was no easy matter, requiring the minor bribe of a one-stop tram ride, and it was a frazzled Miss Fisher who eventually handed the child over to her nanny, Mary-Lou. She promptly turned about and returned to the Park at a brisk pace which saw her arrive at the gaping jaws of Mr Moon just as two harassed gate-keepers were successfully closing the gates on the last stragglers.

"Sorry, Miss, Park's closed," said one firmly, but Phryne had been expecting the attempt.

"I'm aware of that, and the reason for it – I was here when it happened. I'm Mrs Detective Chief Inspector Jack Robinson, and my husband is in there, leading the initial enquiry. I …" but she didn't need to continue. The magic words opened the gate a sliver, and she slipped through.

Married life occasionally had its advantages, and the Inspector's promotion hadn't hurt either.

She made her way to the scene of the incident and saw Jack deep in conversation with a corpulent gentleman in an ill-fitting suit. Or at least, there was a monologue being delivered. The volume was such that Phryne, even from some distance away, was able to catch such phrases as "safety record" "well maintained" and "more than my job's worth".

The Chief Inspector was listening attentively, hands clasped behind his back, head tilted to one side. Phryne knew that look. It was the one that he used at Aunt Prudence's parties when he was cornered by a guest keen to impart their advice on the best management of police resources in the city of Melbourne; because Aunt P's cocktails often had the effect of rendering her guests experts in everything from policing to the laundering of satin smalls.

Only by the merest flicker of an eyelid did he acknowledge her presence, and she backed off to scan the area. Through an opening in the perimeter fence of the park, she could see that the wreckage of the two-carriage set had been roped off, and the familiar figure of Sergeant Collins stood with his hand on the shoulder of a junior constable who was green in both experience and facial pallor. The reason why was clear enough, with four eloquently silent shrouded stretchers on the ground beside them; even as she watched, an ambulance was backed on to the ground and the process of removing the remains undertaken.

A thought occurred to her, and she cast her gaze wider; but there was no sign of a fifth stretcher. She walked closer to the ride, and as she did so, the ambient clamour of official voices gave way to an eerie silence – broken only by a snuffling sound.

Phryne edged nearer to the source, and came upon a child sitting alone, head buried in arms, shoulders shaking. Instinctively, she hurried to offer help.

"You poor dear!" she exclaimed. "Are you all right?"

The child lifted her head, and Phryne saw immediately that this was no child – though diminutive, the woebegone face was of a young woman.

"I'm fine," she muttered, and looked away pointedly, as though she didn't have tears pouring down her cheeks.

"You're plainly not fine," replied Phryne sensibly. "I'm going to sit down here, on this side of you so that the rest of the world can't see how upset you are, and you're going to tell me why. Then I'm going to move heaven and earth to help you. How does that sound?"

A pronounced sniff was the only reply she got, but as the girl didn't move when Phryne plumped down beside her, assent was a viable working assumption. Qui tacet consentire and all that.

"Did you know someone on the ride?"

The girl's head ducked in a nod, and she buried her face in her hands again. Phryne persisted, as gently as she could manage. "One of the passengers?" A head shake this time. "The brake-man?"

It was the only other option, and received no response. The brake-man it was, then. The man for whom she'd been looking when she came across this tearful waif.

"Do you know what's happened to him?" asked Phryne, digging out a hanky and proffering it gingerly.

The girl blew her nose noisily. "They took him in an ambulance," she muttered. She looked up at Phryne, "I don't know where. Nobody will tell me. But he wasn't … he wasn't …"

Dead. Phryne could fill in the gaps readily enough. She rose to her feet. "Wait here," she said briskly, and strode off in the direction of the most senior police officer at the scene.

As she came into his line of sight, he looked straight at her, and the plea in his eyes could not have been more clearly telegraphed if he'd waved a flag over his head. She raised an eyebrow and a supplicant hand, breaking into the middle of the diatribe of his corpulent companion.

"Chief Inspector, I'm sorry," she said in a businesslike fashion. "A word?" Jack, without batting an eyelid, excused himself from the other man's presence, and took her arm, escorting her a few paces away.

"Thank God you arrived," he whispered. "I've listened to the same litany of Luna Park Safety Procedures seven or eight times now, but he won't believe I've taken them on board." He raised his voice. "How can I help, Miss Fisher?"

"I'm trying to find out what happened to the brake-man," she replied succinctly. "A young lady who appears to be more than just another punter is dissolving into a puddle of tears because no-one will tell her."

Jack glanced across and saw the girl who was hunched over Phryne's hanky once more. He narrowed his eyes and drew his gaze back to Phryne. "Multiple suspected fractures, but he was thrown clear of the carriages and was alive when he was taken to the Alfred." He paused, thinking quickly. "She could be a useful witness, but I don't want to scare her off …" he looked at Phryne speculatively.

"Want me to take her over to the hospital and see what happens next?"

"Want me to beg you to?" he responded sardonically. "Yes. Please. My tormentor over there has convinced me that if this was an accident, it wasn't a flaw in the ride – so I need to get the track examined thoroughly for any sign of sabotage. If you can get anything from the girl, that will help. Take Collins if you want – now that the bodies are away, Dixon will cope with assisting me."

She wrinkled her nose. "Much as I love Hugh, Jack, do you mind if I don't? There's a lot of him, and he's so thoroughly policeman-like that he might stop a frightened little witness opening up."

He grimaced, but saw the logic of the argument. "Very well. But I'm going to need some decent paperwork from you for once. An actual, written report Phryne. Think you can manage?"

"Of course, Jack," she said carelessly. Then quirked a grin. "Dot's typing's coming on by leaps and bounds these days."