Chapter 2: Dark Clouds

The coldness in the Inspectors voice was not at all lost on Phryne. Even though she did have a vague idea just what might be the reason for his indignation, she decided to ignore it. There was no time in the current moment for Jack's sensibilities. Miss Fisher was not in a good mood. She had awoken in cold, clammy sheets this morning, covered in a thin film of sweat and to make matters worse, not in her own bed. While that had been due to another man it was not in the way Jack Robinson was currently inclined to think. Phryne made a mental note to explain matters to him as soon as the possibility would arise, but for the moment there were other priorities to take care of.

"Are you alright, Phryne?"

She had almost missed his question that to her surprise, was asked in a completely changed tone. Miss Fisher still struggled to get used to the idea that the Inspector would be more interested in her well being than in any corpse he would stumble across. It caused a warm fuzzy feeling that right now, annoyed her beyond comprehension.

"Fine, Jack. However, the body floating in the lake down here is not."

Silence answered her. Miss Fisher felt inclined to fill it.

"Pauline noticed her husband's absence around quarter to two this morning. The search party had no success in the night so we tried our luck after sunrise and we did find Marcel Denier. I'm afraid face down in the water. I would appreciate if you would make your way here."

Phryne realised that her own tone of voice was not suited to talk to the man she shared bed and heart with and who held no responsibility at all for her lack of sleep or the throbbing headache that haunted her this morning. The two hours rest she had wedged in between searches in one of the Denier Estates countless guest rooms had left her exhausted rather than refreshed, after she had woken from a nightmare that had included Jack being tied to a chair with blue ribbons and Murdoch Foyle attempting to slash his throat. Finding the body of her friend's husband in the lake also hadn't helped to improve her temper.

„I will be there soon."

The line died before Phryne got a chance to answer. He had sounded calm, collected. Maybe his head was already invested in the case. But then again, Miss Fisher was too good a detective to actually believe that. She sighed as she put the phone down. There would be a way to make amends later, for the moment they had a case to solve.

X

When Phryne Fisher finally returned to the lakeside the milky morning sun was hiding behind a wall of grey clouds that looked suspiciously like rain. A stable hand whose name she could not remember, even though he had saddled a horse for her just last week followed by a rather intriguing string of compliments, was helping Simon Ellis, the loyal butler of the Deniers, to lay the naked body of their master out onto the grass.

Phryne crouched down beside Marcel's corpse before anyone could raise a voice of protest. Admittedly, it was not ladylike to ignore the state of undress in her old aquaintance, dead or alive, but currently Miss Fisher was neither a lady nor a friend but a private detective trying to make herself familiar with the case. The body had a distinctive blueish tinge, was cold to the touch and turning a clammy hand, Phryne could see malcerations forming on the palms. Marcel had been lying in his beloved lake for several hours, there was no doubt about it. But why had he drowned? Granted he had been heavily drinking the last night as just about everybody else around him...

„You may want to have a look at the head." A calm voice beside her stated. Phryne raised her eyes. She had been too engrossed in the corpse to even notice Jack's arrival. An alarm bell in her head told her that she was walking in dangerous territory.

„Good Morning, Jack. I was actually just trying to establish a time of death. I believe from the state of the skin and the temperature he has been in the water all night." Phryne parried and locked eyes with the Inspector who had knelt down on the other side. The almost invisible smile playing around his lips let her release a breath she hadn't been aware she was holding.

"Impressive, Miss Fisher. And what do you make of this?" He said, turning Marcel's head slightly to reveal a small wound, half covered by a lump of hair in which still stuck some coagulated blood the water hadn't yet managed to wash away.

"That seems to be a head wound. Possibly acquired post mortem drifting in the lake." She said, feeling like a student as she watched the Detectives thoughtful nod.

"Then again," she added on afterthought, "Blood would be unlikely to clot like this under water."

"Which means?" Jack asked, his dark grey eyes sparkling.

Phryne looked up and couldn't help but smile at his expression.

"That, Inspector Robinson, we are now trying to find a murderer."

X

Dorothy Williams was worrying. It seemed the only thing she could do right now and she didn't particularly appreciate this conclusion. While she rolled out the dough for the shortbread she would donate into Sundays bake sale she wondered just what Miss Fisher had stumbled over. The maid had wanted to ask the Inspector to take her along, but Jack Robinson had been out the door faster than lightning the second Phryne had called on him. In a way that was probably sweet, Dorothy mused and smiled quietly to herself. As little as she understood her employers dislike of ordinary and proper things like marriage; Dorothy Williams was neither a fool nor blind to the romance that had been unfolding a long time between Miss Fisher and her Inspector and she was dearly wishing it would last. Jack Robinson was a good man. Someone you would entrust your children too – if she would ever have children. Hugh saw in him his glowing idol, almost as if he was a father he was trying to impress. And also he seemed to keep Miss Fisher save and on this side of sanity which was bound to be a handful at times. He was also rather dashing, which was a thought Dot carefully folded into the drawers of her brain to be stored away safely. Surely it wasn't appropriate to think this way about the sweetheart of your mistress.

"Dorothy, a visitor for you."

Dot almost dropped her rolling pin on Mr. Butlers appearance. That man was a sneak. When her heart rate had slowed down back to a normal level, Hugh stepped through the kitchen door. He was in full uniform and looked as if he had been in a slight hurry.

"Dottie? Why aren't you ready yet?"

"Ready for what, Hugh Collins?" She replied, confusion colouring her tone. He seemed to have to ponder this for a second as he sat his hat down.

"Miss Fisher called the station, asked me to come out to the Denier's house to secure some corpse. And she said to take you along, because the tea is apparently awful."

A grin whispered over Dotties features. It was like Miss Phryne to get the police to escort her to her murder scene. In sudden enthusiasm she wiped her hands onto her apron.

"Give me five minutes, Hugh."

She walked past him, then changed her mind and twirled around to press a kiss onto the tip of the shocked officers nose with a broad smile. Hugh Collins watched in astonishment as his sweetheart scrambled out the door to get ready.