Chapter Fourteen

"Well, we're not quite there, Jack, but we're nearly there," remarked Phryne, and they crossed Main Street to reach the police station.

Jack was stalling, though. "I still can't see it. No matter how badly Baker wanted that loan, he surely wouldn't kill his own brother for it?" He shoved his hands in his pockets, clearly worrying the conundrum over and over in his head.

Phryne saw far less of a challenge. "Darling Jack, people do the most ridiculous things for money. If they'd already fallen out, why wouldn't Martin go one step further and simply remove the obstacle?"

They'd arrived at the station by then, and Stanford was waiting for them behind the counter. They quickly brought him up to date.

"I think the only thing to do is to bring Baker down to the station for questioning," concluded Jack.

He was surprised to receive only a lukewarm response from Stanford, but the sergeant agreed to leave Jack in charge of the station while he drove up to the Abbotsford in search of their suspect.

The interview room was not large, and having four people in it rendered it claustrophobic. However, Jack might as well have been in a large, airy courtroom, thought Phryne proudly.

"Mr Baker, you are not at this stage being charged with any crime; however, we have reason to believe that it was you who engineered the death of your brother David last Saturday morning. You were in a position to sabotage the engine – incidentally, putting not just David but every person on that boat at risk. Did it occur to you that a single spark could have blown us all sky-high?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," said Baker angrily.

"You also claimed that you were with David until late on Friday night, and that he was singing to you," persisted Jack. "We now know that he was within you for less than an hour, and you were in fact arguing. What was the argument about?"

Baker glared, but could not dodge the direct question – rather, he exploded.

"He was a fool! The profit to be made from building on the north plot was obvious to anyone with an ounce of financial acumen. The boat was just going to be a tiny part of the security for the loan, but would he sign the papers? Would he hell! The whole project was grinding to a halt, just because he didn't want to put his precious boat at risk."

"But to kill him for it?" asked Phryne mildly. "How could you kill your own brother? Just because of a business deal?"

There was a silence; Baker was not going to be easily trapped. Then surprisingly, it was Stanford who spoke up.

"I think I know." He gazed fixedly at Baker, whose head had snapped up, eyes narrowing at the sergeant.

"He wasn't your brother, was he?"

Jack looked at Stanford, confused.

"But the family resemblance is so strong. What do you mean?"

Stanford never took his eyes off Baker.

"They had the same mother – but different fathers." He returned Jack's look.

"Cora, their mother, went through a bad patch after Martin was born. It happens to some women. Life was getting on top of her, she didn't feel she could do anything right, and just got more and more depressed. Carl – their dad – didn't know how to handle it, and buried himself in his work instead. So it was hardly surprising when a musician blew into town who could charm the birds off the trees, and took a real interest in Cora, that she was interested right back. He gave her a new lease of life – and, I'm guessing, a baby."

His gaze returned to Baker, whose hands were clenched on the table in front of him.

"Cora came to stay with my aunt for a few months – at the time, I thought it was just to get a break while she was expecting, but it wasn't was it Martin?"

Baker's voice was so low it was almost a whisper.

"Dad told me about it when he was dying. He said I was going to be the head of the family, and I should know."

He looked up and saw Phryne watching him. The level of hatred in his face took her aback.

"He said that he'd come to understand and forgive her, and that Estelle was the token they had of that forgiveness. How could he forgive her? My mother was a whore. David was a bastard, and he was a bastard who was stopping the family achieving everything we deserved." He was snarling now. "Of course I killed him. He didn't care for us, for me, for what we could be. He only cared about music, and his bloody boat."

It took both Jack and Sergeant Stanford's combined efforts to get the handcuffs on his wrists and the very volatile businessman into Bairnsdale's one and only cell.