Chapter Three

The following day, Jack had booked them a day on the hotel's sailing yacht. The Cora May wasn't large – her crew of two could readily handle her – but at just shy of forty feet of glistening wood and brass, the ketch was, Phryne thought, quite beautiful. Joe and Sam, captain and mate respectively, were also fairly easy on the eye. She glanced at Jack when they were introduced, and twitched her nose to show her appreciation. He rolled his eyes and grinned, hefting the picnic basket the hotel had supplied onto the deck, where it was seized by Sam and stowed in the galley.

Soon, they were motoring downriver. Jack relaxed in the stern and chatted to Joe, while Phryne picked her way around the deck, exploring. She'd kicked off her Mary Janes as soon as she came on board, and relished feeling the sun-warmed boards under her bare feet. Her loose-fitting trousers billowed in the breeze as she stood at the prow, holding the forestay lightly for balance and looking ahead. She turned round and dipped her sunglasses, holding on to her broad-brimmed sunhat with a hand whose arm was looped around the halyard.

"Having fun yet, Jack?"

"How could I not be?" he called back.

An hour later, they had reached open water, the sails were lifted and the engine shut down, and the ketch showed what she could really do. Heeling from the breeze on a steady tack, she raced across Jones Bay. Looking around his craft, Captain Joe was well satisfied – the customers were both wearing grins a mile wide. He shouted to Sam to open the wine, and Phryne and Jack toasted each other yet again. While they did so, Sam came to stand next to Joe at the wheel.

"Skipper," he said quietly. Joe's head snapped round.

"Something wrong?"

"Maybe. I dunno. When I was down in the galley getting the wine, I could smell the engine."

Joe immediately caught on. It was never that pleasant having to run the engine, but they knew where to expect its noxious fumes – and also where not to.

"Take the wheel?"

Joe smiled at Jack and Phryne, who had no idea he was there, and slid on his forearms down the handrails to the galley.

The smell hit him straight away.

He moved through the lower deck – with few doors to open, it didn't take long. The starboard cabin door took a bit of effort to open, because a towel had somehow fallen on the floor next to it.

He found the source of the engine smell.

He also found the body.

Working quickly now, he moved to open the porthole in the cabin – on that tack, it would be well clear of the water for a while – and the other starboard portholes below. He also opened the hatch to the foredeck.

Then he moved as fast as he could back up on deck, and took the first deep breaths he had for the past few minutes. An exchange of glances with Sam was enough to let him know that all was not well.

"Mr and Mrs Robinson?" His tone was politely professional, and so very far from his casual attitude since they'd arrived on board that they both immediately gave him their full attention.

"I'm sorry to say that we're going to have to return to Bairnsdale shortly. I can assure you that you'll receive a full refund for the day's hire."

The two sleuths exchanged nonplussed glances, and Phryne spoke up first.

"But of course – please don't worry about us. Should you turn back straight away, if that's what we need to do?"

Joe shook his head, and realised he was going to have to tell the full story.

"I'm sorry, but I've just discovered there's been a terrible accident on board. Somehow, the exhaust fumes from the engine have got into the lower deck, and I want to stay on this tack for another fifteen minutes or so to give the air down there the chance to clear. I need to ask you not to smoke, please, until we're back on land."

They both agreed automatically, but then Phryne narrowed her eyes at him.

"You said there'd been an accident? Is someone hurt?"

Joe let out a deep breath. Women and their questions.

"There was someone in one of the cabins, who appears to have been asphyxiated by the fumes. I don't yet know how."

"But do you know who, Joe?" Jack, this time.

Joe gave a sickly smile.

"As a matter of fact, I do. His name's David Baker, and he owns – owned – this boat."