Chapter Three
Of course. 'Gone Fishing'. Fishing for opinions. Looking for gossip. What else would Miss Fisher do?
Jack stroked his jaw and admitted to himself that once again, he didn't understand his wife at all. If she wanted to talk to the beggars, why did she have to go AWOL to do it?
He was also trying quite hard not to think about the people she would come across in the name of Research.
He thanked Mrs Collins for the tea, and watched Collins take careful charge of a bag of biscuits wrapped to take back to the station, then they excused themselves. Jack took the wheel, and pondered for a moment, before letting in the clutch. They then took a very roundabout route back to City South, which included His Majesty's Theatre.
No joy. The street at that time of day was more or less deserted; poor pickings for a beggar, so it wasn't surprising they weren't in evidence. After touring some of the more popular thoroughfares without catching sight of a certain sleek bob, he gave it up as a bad job and returned to the station. His attention being claimed as soon as he walked through the door by a subordinate with a knotty problem, it wasn't until early evening that he was free to consider the Mystery of the Missing Wife any further.
Catching sight of the time, he decided to make Elizabeth's bathtime even more of a priority than usual, and headed for home.
After a thoroughly hilarious (and soggy) interlude, safely bundled into pyjamas and dressing gown, favourite teddy at the ready to listen along, the tot selected a story book and brought it to Daddy to permit him to read it. As she settled herself on his lap, she piped up with an unexpected titbit.
"I saw Mumma today. At the shops."
Jack blinked, and tried not to tense. Affecting as relaxed a voice as he could manage, he asked where, but "at the shops" was the most that his daughter could come up with.
"Did Mary Lou see her too?"
"No, just me, Dadda."
"Did you talk to her?"
"No, she didn't see me. She went off with a boy. Can we have the story now?"
She was being very polite, but the delay in discovering what happened to Winnie-the-Pooh was obviously becoming an issue, so Jack opened to the first page of a story they could both almost have recited by heart. As he did so, he couldn't resist one more question, knowing full well that if he waited until after the story, she would likely be asleep.
"What was she wearing?" he tried.
"Trousers," confirmed the doyenne of diminutive dress.
Jack sighed inwardly. That didn't narrow it down. Miss Fisher had been the one who Wore the Trousers for as long as he'd known her, and had an extensive wardrobe of said garments. "The black ones?" he hazarded. Soo had confirmed that they were missing from the wardrobe, so it seemed likely.
"No, Daddy. Short trousers. Like Gid has," she corrected him, in reference to her best friend Gideon Collins, who at the advanced age of three and three quarters was her dictionary, partner-in-crime, mentor and all-round gazetteer.
(He couldn't read yet, either)
"Boy's shorts?" He gazed incredulously at his daughter, but she only nodded her head before pointing helpfully at the opening lines of the chapter. In case he'd forgotten what they were there for.
Jack sighed, and began.
"Here is Edward Bear …."
By the end of the first chapter, he could tell from the drooping head that she was already asleep, and settled her in her small bed, before descending to the dining room for a solitary dinner.
"Mr Butler?"
"Sir?" The factotum appeared in the doorway, wine bottle in hand to top up the Inspector's glass.
"Is Soo on the premises?"
"She is, sir."
"Might she spare me a moment?"
As if by magic, Phryne's maid appeared at Mr Butler's elbow; Mr B bowed to her with a careful politeness that made her eyes dance with laughter, and effaced himself. She turned to face Jack with an enquiring glance.
"Soo, you are aware that Miss Fisher is currently …" he sought for the words, "… away?"
"Yes."
(Soo tended to be a fairly efficient conversationalist. Jack recognised that she would be perfect for the witness box, but could wish she was a bit more loquacious outside of it).
"I don't suppose you know what she was wearing when she left this morning?" he asked, trying hard to keep the plaintive note out of his voice.
"Black." At this even more abrupt reply, Jack's expression became disbelieving, and Soo relented a little. "Her black silk trousers, ribbed jumper and short jacket are all missing. Also the beret."
"Oh." He debated inwardly how to ask the next question, and decided there was no elegant way to approach it with this terrifyingly elegant young woman.
"Does Miss Fisher possess … a pair of shorts?"
"Short trousers? No."
He hadn't thought he could have missed that one, but it was good to have his suspicion confirmed. He thanked Soo, who promptly disappeared to the kitchen again; and downed his wine, before taking to his bed.
The bed was of a good size. Larger than a normal double. It was just as well, because Miss Fisher tended to be expansive in the act of sleeping.
When she wasn't in it, on the other hand, its emptiness was … marked. He lay awake, and tried not to worry, because he'd been thus instructed; but found it impossible. She was in Melbourne somewhere. Why wouldn't she come home? Was she being restrained somewhere against her will? Was she even … but he didn't let his mind go to that particularly dark place. He flung his arms wide, and she didn't crawl into them. He gazed at the ceiling until his eyes became tired, then closed them and stared at his eyelids instead.
And desperately missed Miss Fisher.
