Chapter 8: A Man's Manners
"It's murder!" Aidan Harper yelled. "And it's your responsibility to investigate!"
"It's a horse!" the young policeman argued calmly.
"A decorated race horse."
"Hardly," the young man grumbled under his breath, forcing himself to smile. "But don't worry, I will do everything in my power to find the murderer of your precious 'Evening Wind'."
The sarcasm in the man's voice was barely disguised and Harper stomped away in frustration to where Grace stood, still pale.
"What does he think?" she asked, when her husband approached.
"Not much, as usual," he huffed, lighting himself a cigarette. "But we know who it was, don't we?"
"You don't think..." she trailed off. "Aidan, you don't seriously consider Luke?"
"And why wouldn't I?" he spat. "He told me two days ago that I had no chance of winning the race. Now I know what he meant! But he will pay for that, I promise you that much!"
He rushed off before his wife had a chance to protest. Grace shook her head in silence, pondering what to do. Just then Sergeant Ferguson approached, obviously not having missed the outburst.
"I'm sorry 'bout your horse, Grace," he said, shoving his hat back on his head. She nodded at him.
"Thank you, Geoff."
He wandered off towards his car when she turned.
"Could you do me a favour?" she called after him. "Will you take me into town, please?"
X
It was early and most of the visitors from the city still asleep when Phryne entered the dining room on Jack's arm. She still felt a little shaky, but realised with some relief that nobody but Mac looked at her worried upon their arrival. The Inspector didn't seem at all inclined to share her little moment of weakness with his family and she was more than grateful for his discretion. Instead he pulled the chair out for her with complete nonchalance and sat down beside her.
"So, who managed to slay the eight-legged dragon?" she asked in overt happiness.
"Jane was my knight in shining armour," Hazel smiled, sipping on her coffee.
"I've just set it outside," the girl protested. "The poor thing was more scared than you."
"I don't think that's possible," Mac quipped, receiving an annoyed glance from her lover.
"I'm surprised you missed the adventure," John stated calmly, rising an eyebrow at his son.
"We just weren't in any state to attend," Phryne smiled thinly, which wasn't exactly a lie.
A cough sounded from Mac's direction.
"I don't think I want to know," Rupert joked. Jack decided to leave them in the assumption that a lack of clothing had kept them from attending the spider hunt.
While spreading butter on his toast he realised that Iris had been exceptionally quiet throughout the whole exchange. Something was on her mind, it wasn't hard to tell for someone who had grown up with her. And judging from the way Rupert had his arm lying against the back of her chair as if he could comfort her through the wood, it also wasn't a secret to her husband. The Inspector couldn't help but wonder if he knew what the creases on Iris forehead were about. It was likely. Rupert was a good spouse, an attentive one. If he was completely honest, the Inspector considered him a better match than his predecessor.
Jack felt a little guilty at the thought. He had been fond of Christian, even been one of the groomsmen at their wedding - mostly because he had refused to accept the jokingly offered position as maid of honour. Jack also knew that the young, enthusiastic man had been a great loss to Iris and her family when he hadn't returned from the War. The fact that her husband lay in a shallow grave somewhere on the other side of the world had added to the pain. And for years it had appeared to Jack that, just like he himself, Iris would never recover from the wounds of the Great War. Until Rupert Walker had entered the picture.
The businessman hadn't exactly swept her off her feet. His courtship had been a slow one, marked by a so-called friendship, long walks and humorous conversations until hours when neither of them could honestly pretend any more that it was decent for an unmarried couple to sit together. So, eventually that had to be rectified.
And it had been - in a small ceremony at the local church, with only their families and closest friends attending. Jack had done his hardest to smile and not look too much at Rosie, who happened to be the Matron of Honour. Maybe that had been the reason he had excused himself from the wedding before even the cake had been cut. But possibly it was simple envy. Envy at a second chance, a new happiness, at the way Rupert had looked at her when Iris spoke her vows. Love.
It wasn't a bushfire this time, not the all-consuming love that she had shared with Christian. It was a quiet glow that connected her with a man who cared for her deeply and thoroughly. A simple knowledge that she belonged with him.
It stood in stark contrast to Jack's own cold bed, the empty breakfast table, the late nights at the Station with nobody waiting and the always polite answer to the questions after his wife and his family plans. Jack, in this very moment, when Iris had said 'yes' to her second chance, had known beyond the shadow of a doubt that he would never find happiness again. How very mistaken a man could be!
He was woken from his dark thoughts by Phryne nudging him gently. The awake part of his conscience announced that Miss Green, donning a rather bright blue dress that seemed a little out of place in Woodend, had asked him twice already for his wishes. He had to swallow down the memories before he was able to answer.
Phryne watched him with attentive eyes while he stumbled out an order. Miss Green smiled kindly and wrote down something in her little notebook.
"And some coffee to wake up?" she asked with a cheeky grin. Jack couldn't think of anything to counter that with.
"That'd be lovely," he answered weakly. He missed the scowl his father sent the waitress.
"Maybe you should reconsider your nightly entertainment," Hazel quipped. "You are growing old."
Jack shot her a menacing glance and turned to Phryne, surprised at her lack of input on the matter. He found her staring at the picture she had already noticed last night.
"Miss Green?" she waved the older woman over, who was now carrying a pot of coffee. "Who did you say the young woman was?"
"It's Evie Harper. Mind you that picture was taken about 35 years ago."
"Is she still living around here?" Phryne asked breathlessly, searching for Jack's eyes. The table had fallen silent. Miss Green looked a little confused, but she set down the pot and shook her head.
"As a matter of fact, she disappeared. Many years ago."
Jack took Phryne's hand, asking her silently what was the matter. But suddenly she smiled.
"Thank you. I was curious about her. Evie Harper you say?"
Now obviously at a loss the waitress confirmed that.
"Related to the Harper we saw in the street yesterday by any chance?" John asked. "A rather angry young man?" All eyes flew back to Miss Green.
"Aidan Harper is her son," she explained, "and he isn't known for his gentle temper around here."
A hint of sadness wasn't missed by Jack's attentive eyes.
"He was still a babe in arms when Evie's done a runner. Has inherited a big sheep station from his father about a decade ago. Very savvy businessman, but never recovered fully from his moth-"
She didn't get any further, as a young woman in rustic clothing burst through the door.
"Mia, I need to talk to you!" Grace gasped without paying any attention to the guests. "Now. Please."
She pulled the waitress away from the group and they hectically started whispering in a corner. Phryne's eyes returned to the picture on the wall.
"Why the sudden interest?" Jack asked quietly when chatter around the table picked up again.
"She was the woman in my dream," Phryne whispered. "The dead woman!"
His eyebrows rose in surprise. She could see the wheels in his head turning.
"You have been looking at the picture yesterday," he mused.
Phryne bit her lip. That was of course a completely rational explanation. But her gut was churning.
"How was I to know that she had disappeared?" she whispered. "It wasn't mentioned.
Jack tilted his head.
"Just possibly you might be attracting murder like a magnet," he grinned.
It was the end of their quiet conversation as Mia Green returned with Grace following reluctantly behind.
"Inspector, Mrs. Robinson, I have a favour to ask," she stated firmly. "It might spoil your holiday."
X
Silence woke her. It was a rather strange phenomena these days. Dot shook off the sheet and pulled herself to the edge of the bed. She couldn't even remember Hugh leaving for work, which was odd also. Mostly she rose early enough to make sure he didn't oversleep or leave without breakfast.
But most disturbing was that she couldn't hear any sound from the nursery at all. She snuck to the door and listened but no, not a murmur.
In fact, all rooms upstairs were completely devoid of human beings, Miss Aberville's room as usual a complete mess, but that was currently not Dot's greatest concern. A sound downstairs drew her into the kitchen, where she, instead of the nurse found the bent back of Mr. Butler.
"Ahh, Dorothy" he said, pulling himself upright from where he had been stuck with his head in the kitchen cabinet. "I trust you slept well."
"Very much so. But I am wondering where Tommy is."
Mr. Butler smiled.
"I believe Miss Aberville has taken him to the park to feed ducks. Even though your son seems a little small for such entertainment."
Dot chewed on her lip.
"I guess if she enjoys it there is little reason to protest," she stated.
"Indeed."
He gently closed a cabinet door.
"I apologize for intruding in your kitchen, but I realised I am missing the antique silver sugar caster Mrs. Stanley has presented her niece with for her birthday and remembered bringing it over the other week."
Dot nodded smiling. She could hardly imagine Tobias Butler riffling through her cabinets without a good reason, despite practically sharing a household.
"I wouldn't want to draw Mrs. Stanley's wrath on us," she grinned, heading for the cabinet where she dimly remembered storing the expensive piece after having used it's contents for topping her shortbread. She shifted some cups, then her fingers got a little more hasty in their movements. She shook her head.
"I can't seem to find it," she said. "I am almost certain I put it in here."
She turned, chewed some more on her lips, which already showed a rosy colour from the mistreatment.
"Maybe with the teapots?"
But she also came empty searching the other cabinet. She shook her head.
„I don't understand," she said, now seriously anxious. Mr. Butler smiled.
"Don't worry yourself. I'm sure it will make a reappearance," he soothed gently. "Now, I am on my way to the market. Was there anything you needed?" he asked before she could slip back into spinning thoughts.
"Apples," she answered automatically.
Dot waited until Mr. Butler had left before she started clattering through her pots again. It had to be somewhere!
X
„I don't know what happened that caused them to hate each other, they didn't use to," Grace panted, in the middle of a flood of words that was pouring over the Robinsons. "But no matter how much Luke dislikes him, he would never lay hands on a horse just to win the race. It's impossible!"
Behind her, a soothing hand on the younger woman's shoulder, Miss Green nodded.
Jack looked from one to the other.
"Surely the local police can take care of this?"
Grace Harper tore her eyes from the tabletop.
"To be perfectly honest, Inspector, my husband doesn't make many friends. He is... a little rough around the edges, if you so will."
"So, what you are saying is that your Sergeant is biased?" John asked from the back.
"Geoff thinks him ridiculous for even bothering him with a dead horse. And I understand his point. A farm animal's death is a usual occurrence, it's a rough business. But 'Evening Wind' wasn't any old horse."
"I trust it cost a fair amount of money?" Mac asked.
Grace nodded.
"And years of training. But all of that isn't much of a worry to me. Aidan took out insurance for him years ago, it won't be much of a financial loss to us. But I am terrified that his temper will cause a war with the O'Neills."
She paused for a moment, wondering if she should admit to what was on her mind.
"And I would rather like to know myself what scoundrel takes out their revenge on an innocent horse," she growled quietly.
Phryne looked around the table, finding faces ranging from confusion to disgust and finally stopped at Jane's, who nodded forcefully.
„We'll find him," she said after a pause, turning her eyes at Jack as if to get his consent after she had already spoken. He squeezed her hand under the table. In truth the Inspector was rather glad. He preferred a real body, even a horse's, to hunting ghosts any day.
