/ / TUESDAY - Morning / /
When Phryne woke the following morning she made her decision sharply and quickly, and she leapt from the otherwise empty bed before Dot could even come in to draw the curtains.
She took herself through bathing and dressing quickly then ate an enjoyable breakfast (with excellent Turkish coffee) in the kitchen. Dot frowned worriedly at her employer from across the table, but was waved off with a smile and a shrug.
"I shan't be longer than a few hours," she said. "And I'll have lunch out."
"Wouldn't you like me to join you, Miss?" asked Dot, uncertain what had taken over Miss Fisher that morning, but not trusting it any further than she could – potentially - spit. "I just need to go upstairs for my hat."
"No Dot, that won't be necessary."
Phryne stood, straightened her skirt and blew Dot a kiss. "Ta-ta, Dot," she sung, vanishing quickly out the kitchen door.
"Goodbye Miss."
A few minutes passed and then Dorothy heard the roar of the Hispano and the screech of tyres against the road as her Miss Phryne no doubt pulled out dangerously into the traffic.
/ /
Arriving at the Scott's Hotel Phryne warned a valet sternly about her car, then walked inside to enquire at the desk for the room of the Hon Orpheus Fisher.
"Mr Fisher has asked not to be disturbed today, Miss..."
"Fisher," Phryne smiled patiently. "I believe he will see me. I am his sister."
A concierge suddenly appeared at her side, an arm extended toward a fine staircase. "Right this way, Miss Fisher."
Phryne followed the man up the stairway and down a finely decorated corridor. They reached a door and the concierge knocked politely. They waited, and after two full minutes the door opened a mere foot.
Impatiently -and against all proper sensibilities- Phryne stepped in front of the startled concierge and forced the door further, pushing herself into the room. Orpheus cursed, having been jabbed uncomfortably with the door handle, and the concierge gaped rudely.
"Why did you really come to see me yesterday?" Phryne asked abruptly, ignoring the reactions to her entrance, but pointedly closing the door behind her.
Orpheus frowned at her, "To see you Phryne."
She turned back to the room, watching him carefully. "So it had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that 'Jack Fisher' is suspected of murder by City South Police?"
"What? Phryne!"
"You said it yourself, Orpheus. You heard stories about me in Sydney, you must know I'm a detective now, and how convenient you just happen to be in town; why not come to visit after sixteen years of silence."
"Phryne please! I didn't even know he was dead until after I saw you."
She narrowed her eyes at him calculatingly, "Tell me what you know. Tell me exactly."
"The man I came from Sydney to meet with. We were doing a deal Phryne, our businesses together. I came to Melbourne to finalise the details and sign some papers. I didn't know he'd been killed until I met with his partner for lunch yesterday," He began to pace. "They, the police, they think I did it?"
She tilted her head, asking plainly, "Did you?"
Orpheus froze in his steps, "Absolutely not!"
Phryne groaned and sat herself down without invitation. Orpheus took the chair closest and looked at her pleadingly.
"I came to see you yesterday because I wanted to. Please believe that of me Phryne."
Phryne rolled her eyes, "Fine," she said. "I'll believe you. For now. But tell me Orpheus, why should I help you?"
He gaped at her.
"Oh like you were never going to ask me to step in," she brushed him off. "But you'll need to convince me. Why should I help you?"
"Because I'm innocent."
She shrugged, "That's your word against the police's; how should I know who to believe?"
"Phryne, honestly!"
She raised an eyebrow at him, and he stood, beginning to pace again.
"This will ruin me, Phryne. My business, my family. Father would likely disinherit me once and for all; you know he's been waiting for the chance to, ever since he gained that damned title."
He reached the far wall and turned on his heel. "But I will pay you any fee, Phryne, do any deed. Please. There has to be some small part of you that wants to help me, or why else would you have bothered to come here?"
"I-" she stared at him, watching how he pleaded, and a small part of her twinged. He was right. There was, buried so very deep inside her, a small part that wished to know her big brother, and she could hardly do that if he was put behind bars. Or hanged.
"Oh fine," she said eventually. "But I'm doing this purely as a professional. Not out of any familial obligations, and I will charge you accordingly. "
"That's completely alright," Orpheus said, a sigh of relief leaving his lips. "Thank you."
"Hm," Phryne nodded, allowing him to kiss her in gratitude. "But you will be the one to explain everything to Aunt Prudence when she finds out about this."
From the alarmed expression on his it became clear that he had forgotten about their abrupt society aunt. But he schooled his features and nodded stiffly. "Very well Phryne. Yes."
"And don't think I won't hand you in if I find you did actually do it," she added in a mutter, before turning professional and saying, "tell me about this murder, who was it exactly?"
"His name was Francis Hammond," Orpheus began, returning to his seat, "and I contacted him some months ago with a business proposal. He and his associate, William Atkins, they run a glass company here in Melbourne, doing shop windows and the like. I was enquiring into the matter of having them produce glass to put in the doors of some of my crockery cabinets. But they were driving a hard bargain; we've spent weeks going back and forth, lawyers this and that, all money money money..."
"And then yesterday?"
"I went to their office to make things official. Sign paperwork and contracts, open a bottle to celebrate," Orpheus sighed, and he began to fiddle absently with his left cufflink. "But when I got there Atkins was loading boxes of paperwork into his auto car. He told me Hammond was shot dead, and all the paperwork a mess. He said I couldn't sign anything until he found the bloody things to sign! Sorry; I shouldn't swear."
Phryne ignored it, "So you left?"
"Yes. Nothing more I could do there. I came here, called Mabel," he groaned. "How will I tell her I'm wanted by the police on a murder?! Why on Earth they think I have anything to do with it... Atkins must have set me up, the toad."
"Why would Atkins want to set you up? Why would he kill his partner at all?"
"How should I know, Phryne? He probably gets full control of the business. He was the reason it took so long to write up a contract we both agreed to. He was always after more."
Phryne nodded. "What's the name of this company? Where's the office, I'll need to talk to Atkins. Have a look around if I can find my way in."
Orpheus gave her the details and together they stood, bidding farewell to each other with a kiss to the cheek – Phryne somewhat reluctantly returning the gesture this time - before she showed herself out and returned to the rather intimidated young valet.
/ /
"Sir!" Hugh knocked eagerly on his boss's door.
"Yes, Collins?" the Detective Inspector asked, allowing the young Constable to step into the office with a keen grin.
"I found record of a Jack Fisher travelling first class from Sydney, an overnight journey arriving Saturday morning," Hugh explained. "And I called for the details about the company, sir, when I couldn't get through to anyone on the telephone. Fisher Furniture is registered and owned by Mr Orpheus John Fisher, known as Jack."
Jack nodded, raising his eyebrows at the man's name and thinking it no wonder that he used a moniker to get by. "Anything else Collins?"
"Yes sir, after I found his train ticket was first class I called the local hotels, asking for Jack Fisher. Nothing came up sir, but I rang them again and I found that Orpheus Fisher is staying at the Scott's Hotel."
"Excellent work Collins," Jack praised suddenly, standing and grabbing his hat and coat. "Let's go and speak with him, shall we?"
They left immediately and made their way to Collins Street. With a flash of his credentials Jack was led to the same room Phryne had just departed a mere half hour before, and he knocked sternly.
The door opened, revealing a tall man with slicked black hair and a worried frown.
"Yes?" He asked politely, eyes darting nervously to Hugh in his uniform.
Jack held up his credentials again, "Detective Inspector Robinson. Are you Orpheus 'Jack' Fisher?"
Orpheus nodded.
"Might we come in? I have a few questions regarding your recent dealings a Mr Francis Hammond of H.A. Windows and Glass."
Mutely Orpheus stepped aside. Jack and Hugh walked through, Jack taking the seat Phryne had used earlier. Orpheus took the seat furthest away, and Hugh remained standing, pulling out his notebook to scribe the conversation.
"Are you aware of the passing of Mr Hammond?" Jack asked.
"Yes. I was scheduled to meet Francis yesterday, with Mr Atkins. When I arrived Mr Atkins told me Francis was dead and that we would have to postpone our meeting."
"How did Mr Atkins seem?"
"Shaken. Said he found the body himself, poor blighter."
"What was your relationship like, Mr Fisher, with Mr Hammond?"
Orpheus frowned, "Perfectly reasonable. I've been corresponding with him, and Mr Atkins, for months now about this business. I believe we would have worked very well together. I was looking forward to extending both our companies."
Jack nodded, "There was no tension?"
"Well, the deal had taken a bit longer than I'd hoped to be completed. They kept trying to change the terms of the contract you see, had their lawyer butting in on my day with ridiculous demands."
Jack raised his eyebrow at this, and tucked the information away carefully before asking his next question.
"When did you last see Mr Hammond?"
"Would have been on Sunday," Orpheus said. "He called sometime after lunch. Wanted to meet with me."
"At his office?"
"At his home, actually. But we did move to his office eventually. He'd left some papers there he wanted to read through with me."
"What happened after that?"
"Well, I left. I had... I had somewhere else to be. A previous engagement. Francis stayed back to file things properly."
"What time was this, approximately?"
Orpheus thought, "He called at about one and I believe we arrived at his office sometime before three o'clock, and I stayed roughly... half an hour, yes. I must have left the office at twenty past three."
Hugh took note of that carefully.
"Did he seem at all strange in his behaviour? Worried or agitated?" Jack continued.
"No, not at all. He was mostly excited, looking forward to having the contracts signed officially. Is that all you need, Detective Inspector?"
Jack nodded. "That will do for now. But I may need to speak with you again," he rummaged in his pocket and pulled out a card. "If you think of anything else, let me know. Thank you for your time, Mr Fisher."
Jack and Hugh showed themselves out, and the Constable tucked his notebook away with a frown.
"Do you think he did it, sir?" he asked as they walked back through the hotel.
"It's possible, Collins, but we can't know for certain until we talk to the coroner. We still don't know time of death."