Chapter Two

"Phryne, no."

"Oh, come on, Jack, I've seen a murder or two before."

"I'm well aware of that." As he spoke, the Detective Chief Inspector was shrugging on his coat and reaching for his hat. "But this one's different. Collins has already sent the rookie home with a sedative from the Coroner."

"Mac carries sedatives?" Phryne asked meditatively. "That could come in handy. How did I miss that before now?"

"Probably because you don't expect someone whose client's already deceased to give them help sleeping," replied Jack sardonically. "But you can ask her about it next time you see her," and as his wife opened her mouth to offer a helpful suggestion, placed his finger on her lips, "which isn't going to be tonight."

She humphed. He leaned in to speak quietly, not wishing the other occupants of 221B The Esplanade to hear. "It's ugly. Sadistic, almost. Possibly a sick ritual of some kind. And you're no ghoul. Let me deal with this part." He backed off, and looked her in the eye. "Please?"

As his stolid gaze met her stormy one, he received help from an unexpected quarter.

"Mumma?"

A small voice made them both turn to see a slight figure in a nightdress, holding tight to the bannister support half-way up the stairs with one hand, and Edward Bear with the other.

"Elizabeth!" exclaimed Phryne. "What are you doing out of bed?"

"The telephone woke me up. What's a settive?" asked the apple of her parents' collective eyes.

Phryne glanced back at Jack, rolled her eyes expressively Oh, go on then and started across the hall to gather up the stray waif. "Something to help you sleep, darling. Like the hot milk I rather suspect you're going to need now. Wave goodbye to your father, and let's go and flirt with Mr Butler."

Elizabeth giggled woozily and flapped a hand at Jack, who lifted his hat to both his womenfolk and reached for the door. Stepping through, he closed it gently and leaned his full weight on it in momentary relief. There was a part of the story that she was bound to find out before long, and he wanted to marshal his defences before that happened. Squaring his shoulders, he stepped off the porch and strode towards the waiting car. The driver saluted smartly and opened the door for him. Such were the dignities of rank, after all.

"Where to first, sir?"

Jack winced. The lad was keen, he had to give him that. But the decibel level was more geared for the parade ground.

"The locus first, constable, thank you. Then probably on to the morgue." He tried, by keeping his own voice down, to drop the hint.

"Little Bourke Street? Yes sir. Right away, sir."

The hint had not been taken.

It was a warm night; so it wasn't bad luck but rather good sense that the window of the dining room was open, which looked out towards the front of the house. It was slightly more bad luck that Phryne had wandered back into that room in search of a bracelet she'd misplaced earlier in the evening. Even worse luck that she'd asked her maid, Lin Soo, to help in the hunt. Monumentally disastrous luck that they both happened to be in the vicinity of the window when Jack's driver announced to the population of Greater St Kilda (Also Incorporating Tasmania) that they were heading to the Chinese quarter.

The two women straightened and regarded one another gravely. The door of the police vehicle was heard to close; they then heard the engine start, and the car drive away.

Without taking her eyes from Soo's, Miss Fisher raised her voice.

"Mr Butler?"

"Just pouring the milk, Miss, but can I help?"

"Could you get the Hispano out, please?"

There was a short silence, and then a voice was heard gently adjuring Miss Elizabeth not to drink it quite yet, because it would burn her mouth. Then the factotum appeared in the doorway. A brief glance from one woman to the other made his gaze more than usually wooden, but he did no more than incline his head.

"Soo, if you could perhaps keep an eye on Miss Elizabeth, I will be back in a moment."

The maid walked past him into the kitchen; as Phryne strode towards the stairs to seek out a change of clothes, she affected not to notice a hand caught, squeezed and released. She was perfectly confident that within a matter of minutes her car would be waiting at the kerbside, with her maid sitting primly in the passenger seat.

Tobias Butler was many things; among them chef, cocktail waiter, valet, armourer, bodyguard, nursemaid, and – to one particular member of the household staff - worshipper.

He was also not a fool.