Chapter Twelve
When she appeared in the room, the Detective Inspector greeted her warmly – very warmly – and sternly reminded her that it was Sunday, and therefore a day of rest. She had been dashing about far too much, and probably needed a nap. Thus reminded, she agreed that she was a bit tired, and might have a lie down. It turned out the Inspector had been dashing about too, because he also needed a nap.
It was one of their more …active naps.
It was therefore almost time to get ready for dinner before she was able to share what she had learned at Martin's house, and hear his account of his interview with Estelle.
"So, Martin was lying about the nature of his meeting with David," mused Jack, as he toyed idly with the fingers she'd splayed on his chest.
"And about how long David was there," Phryne reminded him. "So much for Estelle's comment about meeting facts with facts! It's odd, too, that their relationship broke down after their father died. Surely something like that would bring them closer together?"
"They're very different people, though," said Jack. "Martin the businessman, David the musician."
"How very … biblical," remarked Phryne. "David and his lyre. I wonder if his parents knew he would be a musician when he was born?"
"Or perhaps he grew up to be a musician because they called him David."
Phryne sat up.
"Whichever it is, I think we should head over to the police station in the morning to compare notes with Ned Stanford. I don't think there's much doubt that Martin Baker's emerging as our chief suspect – he had access to the boat whenever he wanted so he could make the modifications to the cabin that made it deadly – he helped build it, remember – and he lied about the nature and timing of his meeting the night before David died."
"But to kill his own brother?" Jack objected. "It would take more than a family spat to justify that."
"That's why I think we need to talk to Sergeant Stanford again," said Phryne, heading for the bathroom. "There's something we're missing. Right, I'm going to have a quick bath."
"I'll come and do your back if you like," offered her husband, generously.
She grinned at him over her shoulder as she stood in the bathroom doorway, and his breath caught in his throat at the sheer joy of her. Would he ever get used to having this woman in his life?
"Jack, I know we had breakfast late, but we missed lunch and I'm starving. I think that rather than miss dinner, I'll do my own back!"
With a shrug, he admitted she might have a point and, adjuring her only to leave the water in so that he could have a quick sluice, settled back with his hands behind his head and a grin on his face that could only have been described as smug.