Chapter 12: Chalk

The formerly quiet presbytery was positively swarming with police by the time Inspector Robinson and Constable Collins arrived. It had taken a while to get a hold of them at the hospital and the roads had been busy for a Tuesday afternoon. Stepping into the gloomy hall, the familiar smell of incence in his nose, Jack Robinson immediately saw the woman. Miss Wentworth was lying turned away from him, her head twisted at an angle that didn't seem quite right. The Inspector took his hat off, as he crouched down beside her and frowned. It appeared very much like an unfortunate accident. The housekeeper must have been past her sixtieth birthday, the stairs at who's feet her body was lying were steep and the arthritis wouldn't have helped her attempts to hold on when she slipped. But then again, Thana's death had definitely not been an accident and those stairs lead up to her room. His gaze swept up the wooden steps, while he listened to his thoughts.

"Does look awfully like an accident, doesn't it?" He heard a familiar voice right beside his ear. Phryne's perfume was overlaying the smell of burning herbs and Jack found he was thankful for it. In fact he wished he could take her home right now and sleep in her arms for a week. But, that was not going to happen. He pushed himself up to stand.

"It does. I don't like it."

He turned to witness her purse her red lips.

"Strange Coincidence." She pointed out and the Inspector had to whole-heartedly agree. However, there was nothing to prove otherwise.

"Collins..."

The Constable was nowhere to be seen. The Inspector couldn't remember having sent him away and could only hope that he had actually decided to do his job without further nudging. Miss Fisher's head pointed towards the open kitchen door.

"Dot found her." She whispered.

"That would at least explain the absence of my Constable. I only hope that after the wedding he will remember that he is actually working for the police force, Miss Fisher."

A weak smile ghosted over his features, as Phryne lay a soothing hand on his arm that wasn't really necessary. The Inspector had come to terms with the fact that, for Hugh Collins, Miss William's well being came before his duties for this city. And he probably would have called him a fool if it had been otherwise. A cold thought cut through his mind, which wasn't missed by the attentive eyes of Miss Fisher.

"Are you alright, Jack?"

Inspector Robinson nodded grimly.

"I will tell you later." He promised upon her inquisitive stare. She sighed theatrically and followed him into the kitchen, where a strange collection of people was sitting around the table, in the middle a bowl of untouched biscuits. Dorothy Williams looked, the Inspector found, exactly as was to be expected. Pale, shaken and upset. She sat sandwiched between Hugh Collins, who was all but kneeling at her feet, trying to pat the pain away and a man the Inspector remembered vaguely, who was talking to her quietly. While they all looked distressed, he was most surprised by Father Grogan's appearance. The man seemed to have aged a decade since he had last seen him, his snow white hair now making him look old rather than authoritative. Whatever emotions Inspector Robinson might have missed in the priest upon the murder of Thana, Miss Wentworth's deathly tumble down the stairs had made evident now. While the man would never sink so low as to disgrace himself by crying in public, his eyes were sitting deep in his skull, surrounded by grey shadows, that weren't quite able to conceal a suspicious red tinge.

"I'm sorry for your loss, Father." Jack heard himself say. He was not quite sure if that was the etiquette for housekeepers, but his current suspicion was a different one.

"Hugh, I think you better take Dot home. Inspector Robinson can talk to her later." Phryne cut in with a fleeting look at the trembling lips of her companion. "Take my car." She whispered, as the Constable obediently got up and helped his fiancée to her feet. Father Rafael also rose.

"I will be in my office in the school, if you need me, Inspector. But I don't think there is much I can help with." The policeman nodded at this.

"Are you feeling able to give a statement, Father Grogan?" He inquired gently from the broken man. Two empty eyes fixed upon him.

"Of course, Inspector. However, there is nothing I could contribute to your investigations. I was in the church with Miss Fisher, when..." He stopped, suddenly appearing to have temporarily lost his gift of speech. The clock on the wall ticked obtrusively loudly, while the detectives waited. "When Miss Williams came about to tell us about her find." He finally finished in a rough but calm voice.

"Did Miss Wentworth seem unusual to you at all this morning, Father?" Jack gently prodded.

"She was upset, obviously. Miss Wentworth was a very compassionate woman, she didn't take Thana's death lightly. I should have..." He trailed off again. The detectives waited, but the priest seemed this time not inclined to finish his thought.

"At the moment everything points to an accident." Detective-Inspector Robinson explained. "But I would still like to look round Miss Wentworth sleeping quarters, to be sure we don't miss anything."

At this, Father Grogan tore his eyes from the tabletop again.

"Inspector Robinson, if Miss Wentworth was murdered, it is your duty to find her killer. And while I believe that God should be the judge of every human being, may the Lord help him if I get him between my fingers."

Jack was taken aback by the sudden passion that flared in Father Grogan's eyes on this statement and folded it away for later inspection. Followed by Miss Fisher he stepped over the chalk outline left behind by the body that was just being moved to the morgue and trod up the creaking stairs. Only when he hit the landing, did he realise that he hadn't asked for directions.

"You wouldn't happen to know, where our deceased housekeeper was sleeping?" He asked and pulled the first door open, without waiting for an answer. He was looking at a collection of brooms, before turning to Phryne, who was already down the hall. She pointed at a picture of the Madonna cradling her child.

"My best guess would be under the watchful eyes of the Blessed Virgin Mary." She said, pushing down the handle of the nearby door, that swung open with a gentle groan. "Well look at that!"

The Inspector had stepped behind Miss Fisher, looking over her shoulder. If asceticism was meant to be a pillar of Christian virtue, Miss Wentworth had not gotten the notice. Phryne, who had quite a weakness for decorative clutter herself, was gaping at the frills, patterns and figurines covering every millimeter of the housekeeper's bedroom.

"Very... feminine." Jack Robinson stated weakly, clearing his throat. Miss Fisher made a first tentative step into the room, as if being scared the flowery fabrics draped everywhere in sight, might attack her at any given moment. Getting more courageous she let a finger trail over a spotlessly dusted sideboard, that held a dozen framed pictures. One of them captured the detectives attention in particular. "Jack?"

He murmured an answer, currently staring at a doll in something looking like a frilly lace pyjama, but stepped over to have a look at her findings.

"They look quite cosy." He stated a second later, staring at an old photograph of a much younger Miss Wentworth in a quite pretty and of course rather floral dress, the arm of a handsome young man wrapped around her shoulder.

"Maybe a little too cosy for a priest and his housekeeper."

X

Mr. Butler was not an easily surprised man. This kind of came with the job. He hadn't batted an eyelid, when the "Spinster" whose service he had entered had turned out to be Miss Fisher – a woman as prudish as the Kama Sutra. He hadn't even worried, when she had suddenly and without a husband, produced a child from whom he had to hide the silver for several weeks, before Jane had realised that there was not point in stealing one's own cutlery. Mr Butler had even taken it in his stride, when the Inspector had turned from a recurring guest to a resident at the Fisher household. Even though Jack Robinson himself seemed to be confused by this turn of events to the current day. So it said something about the servants shock, when Hugh Collins climbed out of the drivers seat of Miss Fisher's car. He flung the door open to meet the young Constable and the pale woman slightly resembling Miss Williams at the gate.

"Good heavens. What happened?" He asked, forgetting all etiquette.

"Dottie stumbled over a body." Hugh explained quietly, just out of earshot from his fiancée. "Not a pretty sight, I might add."

"I can walk by myself, Hugh Collins, thank you all the same." Dot fended off her beau, when he tried to grab her arm. With that she stomped down the garden path in deep determination. The two confused men followed her every move with their eyes.

"Are you coming? I will make you some tea before you have to head back to the station." She called out upon reaching the door. The Constable and the Butler looked at each other, shrugging their shoulders simultaneously, before the police officer bustled after his girl who had already hung up her coat.