Chapter 10: Bolero
The 'Lioness Pit' turned out to be a small, light office directly underneath the roof. In summer it must have been a nightmare, but now, in spring it had a beautiful view over the adjacent Botanic Gardens. The weather, however, left little joy in the panorama with thick lines of rain splashing against the French door leading out onto a tiny balcony. Madame Germain sat behind her desk, her slim fingers carefully crossed on the surface as if fending off demons with her gesture. It was hard to say if she was capable of being pale, but her skin looked almost transparent today, as if she was about to disappear into thin air. She also appeared to be deep in thought, when the policeman entered. He knocked against the open door.
"I have some questions I'd like to ask, Madame," he said. A thin, professional smile greeted him.
"Of course, Inspector, please take a seat."
For a long moment the silence was only interrupted by the murmur of the rain outside.
"It's terrible," the woman finally said. "I might have to close my school after this incident."
The Inspector leaned back in his chair, slightly annoyed with her focus on the business rather than her dead employee.
"Surely he can be replaced?" he asked, waiting for her reaction. The pair of eyes staring at him for a long moment, surprised him. They were a dark shade of something that was possibly blue, but in this light they looked almost violet.
"I doubt a man like Nicolas Steeger is ever replaceable," Madame Claudine stated firmly. "He had a unique talent for dance; an aura that can't be replicated: a passion I have hardly ever seen in any dancer all across the world."
Jack generally despised such fanciful nonsense, but the way in which it was calmly and factually uttered left him nothing to say. "But, Inspector, first and foremost I have lost a friend today. Nevertheless you will forgive me that I also think of my life's work. Twelve children have witnessed the scene and the scandal will not be contained. I am ruined."
Madame Germain leaned back, calmly shoving a cigarette into a long, fragile holder as if she had just discussed the weather outside rather than the potential crumbling of her business. The Inspector took a deep breath, wondering if she was being melodramatic or merely realistic. It was hard for any business to recover from murder, but certainly for one that depended much on rich families sending their entitled children for their education.
"How long had Mr. Steeger worked with you?" he asked into the silence, reaching out and helping Madame to light her cigarette, a motion troubled by her trembling fingers. She blew a few circles of blue smoke into the air before answering.
"About seven years. We had met in Argentina on one of my travels. I witnessed him dancing in a milonga in Buenos Aires. Needless to say that I was instantly enthralled by his talent. In fact I believe it was that night that I fell in love with tango..." Claudine abruptly stopped, a faraway expression to her eyes. "I had to leave only a few days later, but we exchanged the occasional letter and then omeday he stood at my door, looking for me. To say I was surprised would have been an understatement."
She smiled, the first genuine emotion the Inspector recalled seeing in the cool dancer.
"So you employed him?"
"Of course I did. I had told him about my establishment, but ever having a teacher of his quality was just a pretentious dream up to that moment."
Jack nodded, wondering if a love for dancing was really all this woman had shared with Nicolas Steeger.
"And his wife?" he asked. To his disappointment, Madame Germain didn't even flinch at the question.
"Also very talented, even though I don't believe quite as much as her husband. But what she lacks in passion she certainly makes up for in technique. Nicolas was never particularly good at sticking to rules."
She laughed, brushing off her cigarette in an ashtray of heavy marble.
"The most astonishing of people hardly ever are."
The words had slipped over Jack's lips before he could stop himself. An almost white eyebrow was raised at him while the red mouth underneath took another drag of the cigarette.
"Someone in your acquaintance, Inspector?" Claudine asked. The Inspector tried to ignore the faint blush spreading over his ears and managed a smile.
"Just a general observation," he said smoothly, moving on. "Have you ever witnessed Mr. Steeger to take any form of medicine? From a doctor or maybe otherwise...?"
Again Madame Claudine just laughed her bright laugh that seemed to be as fragile as her pale face.
"No, Inspector. The only drug Nicolas consumed was tango."
Her eyes seemed to turn a shade darker.
"Nicolas lived on the edge between passion and madness, Inspector. He didn't need the rush of opium or cocaine. He had tango. Trust me, it is a very dangerous drug to get addicted to and he was never quite satisfied."
Jack cleared his throat; her voice was vibrating some nerves in his stomach, causing his heart to flutter with excitement. He decided to blame his lack of sleep and the thwarted attempts in the bedroom for his agitation.
"Do you know of any reason why someone would want to kill him?" the Inspector asked the lady instead of dwelling further on the subject. She didn't seem surprised.
"Plenty," she answered, finally rubbing out her cigarette. "A man like Nicolas enthralls women, Inspector."
„He was unfaithful to his wife?" Jack asked, somewhat surprised. He thought briefly of Camila Steeger. A man being capable of cheating on her, seemed a somewhat strange revelation.
"I don't know how far he went, but I doubt it he ever crossed the line past flirtation," Madame Germain spoke into his thoughts. "I am not even certain if he meant that. He sometimes appeared to me like a child in a candy store – completely oblivious to the dangers of playing with the fire. But you can imagine that there were plenty of husbands disliking him, broken hearted admirers and his wife... well, she didn't always enjoy watching on."
She lit another cigarette, contemplating her answer.
"And then of course, there were rivals who would rather see him dead than alive. If you intend to find the single person who went ahead with a wish shared by many, Inspector, I rather hope you have brought a fair amount of patience."
X
The rain had picked up by the time the two Detectives left the school behind. Surrounded by a thick curtain of water Inspector Robinson steered the vehicle through the quiet streets.
"Despite Madame Germain pointing out that there are many people who wanted him dead, I am having a hard time finding anyone truly suspicious," he said.
"Surely you don't consider any of the children capable?" Phryne asked, staring out into the rain smiling. "They are certainly annoying but none of them is a murderer."
Jack glanced at her briefly.
"I can't rule them out of the investigation on grounds of being young and silly," he smiled. "But I see little motive."
"Two of the girls had a crush on Mr. Steeger. Nothing too serious it appears. One of the boys, Gianni Tippoci, on the other hand, disliked our victim. Catholic. Considered his dancing sinful. Then again, he is also convinced that a possessive demon killed him." Phryne rolled her eyes, continuing: "The only one who appeared somewhat odd to me was Mr. Weston. He seemed very detached, cold almost."
"He was the only one appearing odd to you?"
Jack grinned, trying to concentrate on the road while Phryne's hand casually slipped onto his knee.
"Well, odder than was to be expected. Do you believe Madame Claudine could have poisoned her dear old friend?"
"And ruined her own business?" the Inspector asked.
"A fair point," Phryne sighed, shifting to get more comfortable. She wouldn't have admitted it, but the combination of Jack's warm leg underneath her fingertips and the drumming rain on the car windows was almost putting her to sleep; almost. Her body had not forgotten what it had promised her husband several times over. Nothing, absolutely nothing would be allowed to get in the way this time.
Her hand trailed up the inside of Jack's thigh, drawing a strained hiss from his throat.
"I believe you might have to show some restraint, Phryne, unless you want me to crash the motorcar," he said after clearing his throat. Her hand obediently returned to his knee which was just as much teasing as he could bear at this current point in time.
"There are very few people who would have had access to anything Mr. Steeger consumed," Phryne pointed out. "So if he was poisoned by food or drink it really leaves only the students and employees of the dancing school; or his wife."
"I have been unable to speak to Miss Adams so far, but her grief seems rather overwhelming for a cold-blooded killer," Jack smiled. "And Miss Green appears to be a nice old lady. Hardly the kind of person I would imagine mixing poison into people's coffee."
"Nice old ladies seem to have been particularly fond of arsenic throughout history," Phryne grinned. There was silence for a moment as they both pondered this.
"What about the mourning widow?" Phryne asked, stifling a yawn. "Lilah heard her argue with her husband yesterday morning. And Jane mentioned picking up on some tension as well."
The Inspector shook his head.
"Madame Claudine also hinted at some trouble, but Mrs. Steeger seems very upset about her husband's demise. I am having a hard time picturing her murdering him."
The Lady Detective frowned. She had bumped into Camila Steeger on her way down the stairs and the woman hadn't appeared particularly broken up to her. She glanced at Jack, remembering the way he had looked at the woman when being introduced to her.
"You wouldn't happen to be slightly biased there, Inspector?" she asked.
"What are you referring to, Miss Fisher?"
"Well, you can't have missed that she is a very sensuous woman," Phryne pointed out, carefully watching her husband. He smiled, but the faint blush on his cheeks wasn't lost to her sharp eyes.
"I hadn't noticed."
"Liar."
Phryne moved closer, snuggling her cheek into her husband's shoulder. He was warm and when she lay very still she could just about make out his heartbeat underneath his clothes. Jack didn't protest. While every fibre of his body screamed for release, they would be home in a few minutes and until then he would just enjoy her perfume in his nose and her hair tickling his neck.
X
Welcome silence greeted the Robinsons when they stepped through their front door. They shared a look, congratulating themselves. Maybe they had finally found a moment of peace to sneak away together? But Jane had spotted them from where she was curled up with a book on the love seat.
"Any news?" she asked. Jack hung up his hat and coat, before answering.
"It's too early to say," he pointed out, sinking onto the edge of the piano stool. He wouldn't stay long, he promised himself. As much as he loved his foster daughter, as much as he felt sorry for what she'd been through, he needed to be alone with Phryne.
His wife meanwhile had disappeared, following a delicious smell that wafted over from the kitchen. Mrs. Robinson was just as hopeful for a quiet half hour as her husband, yet she realised that she was also hungry. And she needed to speak to Mr. Butler and see if there was any point in worrying about Jane and the shock she'd had this morning. To her surprise she didn't find him alone. Beside the pot Dot stood, happily and with flushed cheeks, chopping celery.
In a small crib at the other end of the room slept, underneath a lacy canopy that seemed rather odd in the middle of a kitchen, little Tommy Collins, completely oblivious to the hissing and boiling of the soup on the stove.
"Ah, Mrs. Robinson. I thought you might return for lunch. Is the Inspector with you?" Mr. Butler greeted his employer.
"He-"
Phryne didn't get a chance to explain Jack's and her plans nor to enquire after Dorothy's decision to help out in the kitchen, as a curse tore her from her thoughts. They turned to where Dot stood, staring at her thumb, blood dripping down her hand and onto the kitchen floor.
"Dot!" Phryne exclaimed, rushing towards her, but Mr. Butler was faster, grabbing a dish towel and wrapping up the deep cut. Big tears ran down Dorothy's face as her friends tried to stop the bleeding. Moments later Thomas started to cry as the excited voices woke him from his slumber.
"Ma'am, would you mind, please?" Mr. Butler asked, still pressing down on Dot's wound. Phryne took a deep breath as she approached the screaming baby, taking him from the crib. She was a Lady Detective and regularly looked gunmen in the eye. Surely she could deal with a crying child.
After a glance at Dot, who seemed to have lost the plot a little bit at this stage, she decided that it was best to take Thomas into the parlour. Jane would find joy in soothing him. Rocking Thomas in her arms she crossed the dining room when she heard the quiet melody.
At the piano sat Jack, right beside him Jane, who watched his fingers slip over the white and black keys with complete attention. Phryne recognised the piece; he had played it for her before.
"You know, Jack, it is raining outside, there is little point in playing 'Raindrops' inside as well," she teased her husband. He didn't stop but smiled at her, realising that she was holding the Collins's baby boy in her arms.
"I am aware that your current preference lies in South American music, Miss Fisher, but he doesn't seem to mind," he pointed out. Surprised, Phryne realised that he was right. Thomas had gone back to sleep.
For the first time she took a proper look at the tiny human being that had kept her awake for a whole night and thwarted her attempts to get close to Jack. He was rather cute for a baby she found. Phryne felt her heart warm in her chest and when she looked up, Jack had also noticed it. His smile was so tender that she really couldn't manage to spoil the moment. Jane's grin however lacked none of the cheekiness of her usual appearance and that relieved her mother somewhat. She had taken her first directly witnessed murder without too much damage to her young soul.
"He likes the piano," she said. "So you have to teach me! For everybody's sake!"
Phryne smiled at her attempt to sway the Inspector in what she suspected was an ongoing argument.
"A very good point. But before you resolve to destroy the peace in this house for good, would you mind bringing Thomas back to the kitchen, please? I'd like to speak to Jack alone for a little while."
"About the murder?" Jane asked, obediently taking the child into her arms.
Her parent's eyes met over her head.
"We need to compare our notes," Jack agreed with a tiny grin.
"Plenty of notes," Phryne nodded, without tearing her eyes from her husband. Jane seemed suspicious but left all the same. Once both children had disappeared in the dining room, Mrs. Robinson stretched out her hand to Jack who took it without hesitation.
"Shall we compare our notes upstairs, Inspector?" she asked, her voice a sultry, amused whisper. His eyes glittered darkly.
"As you wish, Miss Fisher."
They barely reached the bottom of the stairs when the phone rang.