Chapter Three
Jack's car pulled up at the end of the alleyway just as the body was being loaded into the ambulance for transfer to the morgue. When she saw him, Dr Macmillan held up a hand to stop the stretcher party.
"Jack. Hope you've digested your dinner because this is pretty ugly."
"So I was told. Not just a straightforward stab wound?"
"Oh, there's a stab wound all right," replied Mac. "It's the extra bells and whistles that had me send your constable home. He was messing up my crime scene something awful."
"I'll follow you along to the morgue shortly, but show me?"
Even as he spoke, there was the sound of a very familiar engine roar, followed by a squealing of brakes. The Inspector closed his eyes and groaned. Without turning round, he responded to the patter of well-shod feet. "Miss Fisher, I thought we had agreed …"
"Sorry, Jack, but I'm afraid Soo was most insistent."
At that, he turned to look at his wife, and the small, Oriental maid at her shoulder. Soo returned his gaze impassively. He had a suspicion that the insistence was rather on the mistress' side than the maid's but resigned himself.
He turned back to Mac. "Go ahead."
Mac lifted the blanket covering the body. "Stab wound, as described. Neatly under the ribs. However …" and she pulled the blanket further across the body.
As she did so, Jack's hand went up to cover his mouth. Phryne's jaw dropped, and Soo hissed a sharp gasp through her teeth, muttering something under her breath.
Mac shot her a glance. "What did you say?"
Soo folded her lips stubbornly. Her eyes, though, were focussed on the body as if trying to commit it to photographic memory.
Mac shrugged, and gave up. Turning back to the Inspector, she briefly described the wound.
"I'll need to do more work to establish which happened first of the two wounds, but this is a reasonably coarse slicing of the skin over the pectoral muscle. Oval shaped, around four inches long and three wide."
Jack swallowed, nodded and gestured to Mac to cover the body once more. Finding his voice, he asked in slightly gruff tones, "Is the fragment of skin here, too?"
Mac shook her head. "I don't think your people found it, but if they do, I want it."
Jack started feeling better as soon as the world included fewer large, open, gory wounds and asked quickly, "Where are my people now?"
Mac jerked her head towards the public house. "In there, with the witnesses who discovered the body."
"In there?" Jack scowled. He'd have someone's hide for this. "It's after ten."
"Give them a break, Jack. Those witnesses had a pretty rough time. Anyway, I think you'll mind less when you find out who it is."
The body having now been loaded, she sketched a salute and hopped into the front seat of the ambulance next to the driver. The 221B contingent compared notes by the efficient means of raising an eyebrow each and made for the door of the pub. Jack courteously held it open for Phryne and Soo to walk through first, and almost changed his mind about following when he heard her exclamation.
"Hello, Hugh! Bert, Cec dear, what on earth are you two doing here?"
All three of the occupants of the bar stools tried belatedly to hide the glasses in front of them, though only Sergeant Collins was close enough to the bar to be able to sneak his onto the counter beneath.
All three, though, were looking paler-faced than usual, and the most senior policeman there decided that he preferred them to be recuperating from their shock and able to answer his enquiries. He therefore nodded away the landlord who had come scurrying out to offer his defence, pulled up a chair, and said lightly, "thanks for providing sustenance to the witnesses, Sergeant; and thank you, gentlemen, for staying long enough to talk to us."
All present relaxed slightly, but not even Albert had the nerve to ask for a top-up. Phryne and Soo inserted themselves at a table by the door as surreptitiously as possible, and watched with interest.
"So, Collins?" asked Jack.
The sergeant cleared his throat as he pulled out his notebook. "The deceased was discovered shortly before nine-thirty this evening, by C – Mr Yates and Mr Johnson" he corrected himself hurriedly. "There was at that time no sign of the attacker, and they were not aware of anyone in the vicinity."
"Then?"
"Then Mr Yates remained with the body and Mr Johnson returned to … well, here, to telephone the police."
Jack looked at Cec with renewed respect. "You hung around a murder locus on your own, with nothing to defend yourself?"
Cec jerked his head dismissively. "Nothing but fists of steel, Inspector. Take more than some chancer in a back alley to catch me out." He grinned. "Anyway, nobody tried anything, so no worries."
Jack gave a half-smile in return, and turned back to Hugh Collins. "You searched the area?"
"Well, sir, we did our best. It's dark, and Chalky wasn't really … feeling that great," said Hugh hurriedly. "But as far as we could see, there was no weapon, and no sign of …" he swallowed visibly, "the … other thing."
At the mention of the missing section of torso, all those present who'd seen the evidence blanched a bit. Those who were blessed sank the rest of their brandies; those who weren't looked on enviously; and one in particular decided he didn't need to outstay the landlord's welcome any further.
"Do we have an identity?" asked the Inspector.
"Yes, sir," answered Hugh. "There was a wallet in one of the coat pockets. Seth Tombs, an address in Prahran."
"And nobody stole it? Convenient," Jack observed quietly. Then rose to his feet.
"I'm going to the morgue, but …" he raised a hand and the landlord magically reappeared, "I need three more brandies here. You'll send the bill to City South Police Station, care of Detective Chief Inspector Robinson, and it'll be settled within licensing hours." He paused while the landlord swallowed his bile at having to bow to corrupt police who couldn't take a little thing like ritual slaughter without resort to aquavit, and then turned to the ladies who were already standing up from their chairs by the door.
"Miss Fisher, I ..."
"Jack, sorry, I'm not coming with you to the morgue."
He had already been rehearsing his argument, and the two – no, three – backups and so he was entirely wrong-footed, and could only gape.
What was worse – she didn't even laugh, but strolled closer and spoke to him in a low voice. "I'm going to drive Soo home. There's something she knows, and I don't think we're going to find out what it is at the morgue."
These were the times, he reflected, when he didn't just love Miss Fisher. He adored her. In a totally professional sense, and in a way that he would be prepared to set down on paper for the Chief Commissioner if necessary.
[The CC wishes it to be known that he prefers to read less nauseating matter, but thanks DCI Robinson all the same for the kind thought].
"I'll be home as soon as I can," he offered, and they both took the farewell with a deceptive ease.
It was pure coincidence that, after a ten-second gap from parting at the pub door, both looked back.
A smile may have been exchanged. Also a wink. There was, after all, no law against either.
