Chapter Eleven
Phryne listened to the front door shut behind him and pursed her lips in thought. Stepping out into the hallway, rather than follow Baker, she glanced around, and followed her nose to the kitchen.
Sure enough, the lady who'd answered the door was there, and busy at the sink. Phryne tapped lightly on the door to announce herself, and the woman turned round.
"Oh, hello, madam. Can I help you?"
Phryne took a small step over the threshold.
"I'm terribly sorry to bother you, Mrs ..?"
The woman straightened up and, wiping her hands dry on her apron, cross the kitchen to shake hands.
"Cook. Mrs Cook," she said with a smile.
Phryne's grin widened with the discovery of a parallel degree of nominative determinism to her own Mr Butler. She presented her business card.
"I'm helping with the police inquiry into the death of David Baker, and I was hoping you might be able to clarify one or two things for me?"
"Of course, Miss Fisher. Tea?"
Tea was gratefully accepted and, after the first sip, Phryne spoke up.
"I understand David was here with Martin on Friday night, is that right?"
Mrs Cook nodded. "Yes, miss. He came round during the evening and must have been here for an hour or so."
Only an hour? To be fair, Martin hadn't actually said what time David left, but she'd had the impression it was a longer stay.
"And was David singing?"
"Singing? Dear me, no. I mean, he often would be – such a lovely voice that boy had," she smiled reminiscently, "but no, they were arguing the whole time. I wasn't trying to listen in, but it's not a big house. Something to do with the boat."
She shook her head sadly.
"Mr David slammed the door so hard when he left, the whole house rattled. Awful to think that was the last time they saw each other."
Phryne was intent, now.
"Did they often fight, Mrs Cook? I got the impression the three children got on well together?"
"They used to," she pondered. "It was funny, after old Mr Baker died, something changed between Mr David and Mr Martin."
"In what way?"
"Hard to say, really. A coldness, as though they weren't family any more." Mrs Cook sighed. "Such a pity. They'd had their trials, that family, and seemed to come through them. Their parents were estranged for a while after Mr David was born, and then they got back together, and along came Miss Estelle and they were a happy family again. Even when poor Mrs Baker was taken with pneumonia, the children all rallied round – that was when Miss Estelle started getting involved in running the hotel, to help out her dad, because it was all getting a bit much for the poor man."
She met Phryne's eyes.
"And now this. Some families have more than their fair share of bad luck, don't they, Miss Fisher?"
Phryne agreed sympathetically that they did. Thanking Mrs Cook for the tea, she stood and took her leave.
There were so many muddled thoughts to sort out in her head – she was going to need a Detective Inspector to help, she decided, and hurried back to the hotel to see if there were any DIs at a loose end there. Luckily, there was one in her room that fitted the bill perfectly.