Chapter Seven
It was the click of the door closing that woke Phryne, and at first, she wasn't sure she'd heard it. Then, though, she felt what she first took to be a breeze on her hand. Breezes were usually more ephemeral, though. This one appeared to want to … stick around.
"Jack."
A whisper. A gentle snore was the only response.
"JACK" still a whisper, if it was possible to shout while whispering.
"Mmm?"
At least he was responding.
"Jack …. there's something on my hand, and it's not moving."
Tense would have been understating the tone of voice, and it clearly penetrated Jack's fogged brain. Reaching out a hand, he found the switch of his bedside light, and turned it on.
On the plus side, the bright light made the spider scuttle to the nearest dark place.
On the minus, the dark place was the valley on the quilt between their bodies.
Phryne was trying very hard to remain silent, but couldn't restrain a faint whimper.
Jack's hand, still resting by the lamp, moved as smoothly as he could to his water glass. Pouring the dregs onto the floor, he slowly brought the glass through the air and in a continuous arc, planted it on top of the spider.
"Phryne, you're now at liberty to move away if you would like," he remarked conversationally, to which idea she responded enthusiastically. He turned back to his bedside table and located the book he'd been reading. Picking it up by the hard front cover (with a silent prayer for forgiveness to booklovers worldwide), he slid it under the glass, trapping the spider conclusively. Getting up carefully, he placed it on the floor against the wall.
Then he turned round and succeeded in keeping a very nearly straight face.
The ceiling was high.
The wardrobe was designed for a smaller chamber.
Nonetheless, the ability to scale it, and sit on top of it, stark naked, legs crossed and swinging one foot in affected nonchalance, was … unique to his wife.
He cleared his throat, because that was probably going to be deemed more appropriate than laughing out loud.
"You can come down, now. It's secure."
She put her nose firmly in the air.
"You may regard 'trapped under a glass and on top of a book' as secure, Inspector. I beg to differ."
He dipped his head to hide the smile, and walked over to her.
"Please, Phryne, will you let me help you down? Either that or I'm going to have to start making speeches about that birdsong being the nightingale and not the lark." He held out his arms, and tilted his head. "And a wardrobe makes a very poor balcony, my Juliet."
She condescended to look down, and met his eye plaintively. He did no more than lift his arms a little higher, and she reluctantly edged to the side of the wardrobe before sliding down into them.
"Please can you get rid of it, though, Jack?" she begged. "A screwtop jar of some kind?"
He pulled on trousers, a shirt and shoes and sneaked down to the kitchen to find a suitable jar. It was only while he was away that Phryne recalled the noise which had woken her in the first place. He was understandably surprised, therefore, when his return to the room was welcomed by a .38 revolver, carefully placed to the back of his head.
Without moving, he said, "Flattering as it is to be regarded as such a dangerous threat to your virtue, Mrs Robinson, I have to say I'm glad I'm the only person to be allowed to witness your response – especially given your choice of costume."
Recalled to her naked state, Phryne had the grace to stalk across the room and hop under the covers, pointedly averting her gaze until the offending arachnid was safely contained in a jar, in a suitcase, in the bottom of the wardrobe.
"I'd get rid of it altogether, to help you sleep better, Mrs Robinson," her husband remarked wearily, "but for the fact that I really need to find out how on earth a funnel web found its way to Bairnsdale."
She glared at him.
"Someone put it in our room, almost certainly to scare us off. As a result, I will be spending the rest of the night hiding, Inspector, and you have only yourself to blame."
She disappeared beneath the quilt and curled into a sulky ball with her back to him.
He sighed, patted her back and switched off the light.