Chapter Four
"Miss Fisher!" Captain Hollister's welcome was as warm as Jack's skin was cold – albeit the latter temperature was improving rapidly with the application of towel and a completely dry suit of clothes. The fact that the Inspector had elected to forgo the assistance of Mrs Robinson in Getting Out Of Those Wet Things, Jack gave her a hint, if nothing else had already laid them on thick, that all was not as it appeared on the good ship Strathaird.
"Jack said I might hear from you," Hollister exclaimed, striding across the anteroom to grasp her hand in both of his.
"Oh, he did, did he?" asked Phryne avidly. "I'm surprised he didn't mention it when he … left."
"Oh, you mean for the security detail?" asked Hollister. "Yes, I'm very much hoping that all proves unnecessary."
"I'm sorry to say, Captain, that it has proved both necessary and unsuccessful," said Jack quietly.
"What?" Hollister spun to face him. "Not …?"
"No," said Jack quickly. "No, but I'm afraid it's Fitzhugh. Dead."
Hollister's reaction reminded Phryne of the reason he was such a good ship's captain. No bluster, no blame – he pursed his lips and looked at the floor for a moment, then raised his eyes to Jack's face.
"How – Inspector?"
Jack's response was an equally straight bat. "A fall from one of the upper decks of the ship. His head hit a glancing blow, probably on the dockside, before he fell into the water." He tilted his head, as though knowing the next piece of news would be unwelcome. "I called the coroner to confirm the death, your own doctor being on shore leave as we agreed; but the body is now in the ship's hospital."
The mention of coroner received a black look from the captain, so Jack hurried on.
"The coroner's discreet, and I'm confident we'll be able to rely on her to co-operate."
"Her?" Hollister had been served a series of googlies, and this one was a step too far.
"Yes, Captain." Jack's use of the honorific was purposeful – and successful. Judgement was put on the back-burner, and Hollister was all enquiring attention once more.
"What do we do next?"
"Dr Macmillan will hopefully be able to determine cause of death, and I want to go and have another look at the spot from which he fell. I'll also need to speak to the rest of the party individually to find out who was the last to see him."
"Is there anything I can do?"
"Or me, Jack?"
Hollister and Miss Fisher spoke almost in chorus. Jack looked from one to the other, debating internally.
"I wouldn't say no to a second pair of eyes at the scene of the fall, Miss Fisher, but only I can do the interviews. Captain, as long as I have your permission to remain on board …"
"Of course."
"… there is nothing more I would ask of you at this stage. In fact, you're at liberty to explain what you know of the situation to Miss Fisher, if you would?" He was clearly resigned to the secret having to be shared.
"In that case, Jack, I will come with you," announced Phryne, "but then steal the Captain away for dinner as originally planned."
Agreement having been reached, the two sleuths stepped back out onto the deck, and Jack led the way along the companionway, halting after a few paces to play his torch over the area.
"It was about here, I think."
Phryne moved past him, her own torch in hand. "I think you're right, Jack. Look!"
She was shining her torch on a pair of gentleman's patent leather shoes, lying abandoned by the ship's railing. They both crouched to look more closely at the shoes, then at each other.
"Suicide?"
"It has that look," agreed Jack; but then his brow furrowed. "I can't see why it would be, though." He played his torch around the rest of the deck, but it was bare of any further clues to the last moments of the man Fitzhugh.
"Why don't we check his cabin to see if there's a note?"
He shook his head. "I will. I'm sorry, Phryne, but I do need you off the ship."
She opened her mouth to protest, but he placed a gentle finger on her lips. "Hollister will explain. Believe me, there's nothing I would like more than to have you sharing this particular burden – and my bunk, come to that," his eyes softened for a moment, receiving an answering smile from her, "but I'd rather no-one else knew you were here. And please, no word to anyone at home."
She regarded him expressionlessly for a moment, then shrugged away her disappointment. "All right, Jack, I'll be good. But not for long!"
Glancing around the empty deck, he switched off his torch and caught her in a brief but blistering embrace. When he released her, they were both a little breathless.
"Thank you," he said simply. "Hollister knows the bare bones, and he'll fill you in. I'll be with you as soon as I can, but the job just got that bit harder."
She traced his cheek with a tender hand, made him a present of her most brilliant smile and turned away to fetch her dinner guest. The Chief Inspector watched her departure wistfully for a moment, then shook himself and departed in search of Fitzhugh's cabin.