Stepping into the tiny garret that constituted Dorothy Williams' living quarters, Mr. Butler heard the young assistant before he saw her. Unfortunately for Dot, she had caught a terrible cold and had not gotten over it yet. An extremely pitiful looking Dot peaked up from the mass of blankets.
"Dorothy, I've brought you some soup" Mr. Butler said gently, setting the tray on the small nightstand next to the bed. He looked at Dot, appraising her current state and trying to decide if he should tell her about the latest case Miss Fisher had taken on. Judging by the red nose and crumpled handkerchieves that littered the bed in addition to the unfinished handiwork, he decided against it. Better to let her rest than trying to run all over Melbourne keeping up with Miss Fisher.
"Thank you Mr. Butler" Dot said, sounding very stuffy and quite childlike. She sat up in the bed, straitening the coverlet.
"Now, you just stay in bed and rest up. I'll be back to check up on you in an hour or so" Mr. Butler smiled at his patient before leaving the room.
x-X-x
Jack studied the slim file that made up the investigation, as it currently stood. There wasn't much to go on at the present. The parents of the deceased were no longer living and he was estranged with his only other living relation, his older brother. Collins was trying to track him down at the moment, but judging from the amount of sighing and grunts coming from the front office, he wasn't having much luck. Just as well, he thought. They could potentially rule out the brother if they couldn't find him. For all he knew, the brother was dead as well. According to Phryne, the dead man knew more then half the town, so why was there so little information about him? If he truly was a great patron of the arts, as he claimed, then surely it wouldn't be too difficult to track down known associates. He leaned back in his chair, deep in thought.
"Collins" The constable strode into Jack's office, coming to a stop just inside the doorway.
"Yes, Sir?"
"Any luck tracking down Mr. Davenport's brother?"
"No Sir. I have been tracing his movements as best I can, but I'm having trouble getting his last known address. Seems he didn't leave a forwarding address when he last moved."
"Well, I want you to track down as many people who knew the deceased as possible. Maybe we'll have better luck getting information from them. The brother can wait for the time being" Jack handed him the file containing everything they had on the deceased so far.
"Very good, Sir." Hugh retraced his steps back to the front desk and began to flick through the file, trying to find a name to start with. Just as he lifted the phone from its cradle, Miss Fisher blazed into the police station, heading straight for Jack Robinson's office towards the back. In the early days, Hugh would have attempted to detain Miss Fisher, announce her presence to the inspector, however now he usually just let her go. She rarely listened to his feeble protests if the inspector was busy with something. Better just to let her go.
Phryne Fisher was on fire. She had discovered something amongst her papers that would help this investigation right along. In fact, she was sure that neither the constable nor the inspector had this particular piece of information regarding the dead man. Phryne marched into the City South police station and headed straight for Jack's office. She swung the door open and put on her best smile.
"I've found something, Jack" She said with a cheeky grin and leisurely draped her slim body in the chair opposite the inspector.
"Have you now" asked Jack, trying to keep the smile from coming to his lips. She always found something, although Jack didn't always want to know how she found it. Her information was usually good. She had a way of getting people to talk to her, inviting them to tell her things, even a hardened detective inspector like himself. One day that would inevitably come to bite him. Until then, he would just have to live with the danger.
"Of course, I have. As it so happens, I recently discovered that Mr. Davenport had made a considerable donation to the Palais Theatre. According to my source, he wanted it to house his dance troupe. Charles Davenport loved his dancers."
"Dancers. Just ballet or…" he trailed off. Jack looked skeptically at Phryne. He liked dance, but he couldn't help remember the last time he had seen Phryne dance. The feathers really left little to the imagination, more decoration than costume. Although the movements in the number didn't do anything to help that image. He firmly reigned his imagination in, this was better left to being off-the-clock.
"Well, not just ballet, all kinds of dance really. He was putting the finishing touches on his opening show for his troupe shortly before his— untimely demise" Phryne said, musingly.
"Hmm. Interesting. You think that maybe someone had it in for him from the art circle? Stealing the best dancers. That sort of thing?"
"The only problem with your theory is that no one locally knew about the recruitment. He was only looking for dancers trained elsewhere like at the London studios. My source says that he wanted to keep it a surprise until he had a place to debut."
"Your source wouldn't happen to be working for Mr. Davenport while he was alive, now would they, Miss Fisher?"
"Maybe. Maybe not. I like to keep my sources confidential." Phryne gave him the look that signaled the end of that line of enquiry with a small wink. "Besides, you should be happy I tell you these things. Anyway, I've set up a meeting with the current manager of the Palais. We can get there in fifteen minutes tops. Provided I'm driving."
"The Palais is at least thirty minutes away on a fair day. "
"And that's why I'm driving. It's not like you're going to need the police car." She gave him that smile. The smile reserved for making him change his mind and let her get her own way. Damn you, Miss Fisher, he muttered to himself.
"Fine." He sighed, resigned to his rather dubious car trip. "Collins!"
"Uh, Sir?" Collins poked his head into the office, carrying the file with him.
"Miss Fisher and I are going to speak with the manager of the theater that Mr. Davenport was trying to buy a stake in. We'll be back later."
"Yes, Sir." He turned back to his station.
"Collins."
"Yes?"
"I'll be needing that file on my desk by the end of the day with a complete report of your findings."
"Not a problem Sir. I'm almost finished." He scurried back to his place at the front desk and began scribbling furiously. Jack rose from behind the desk, gathered his overcoat and made his way to the door. Phryne stood, following closely behind him. She never understood why, but she felt the need to stand extra close when the inspector was around. Maybe it was the way that he made her feel safe, no matter the situation. Perhaps, it was her imagination. She had been accused of possessing an overactive imagination more than once. Besides keeping her mind occupied and having an insatiable curiosity, Jack Robison was one of the main reasons she kept her sleuthing business open. It wasn't often that Phryne got to verbally spar with an attractive man and put away criminals in the process. They had fun together, something she suspected that the handsome inspector wouldn't ready admit to. One day, she'd get him to admit all. One day.
[A/N: Hope you liked this next installment of Ballet Divertissement. Please leave feedback, it really helps me out! ]
