Chapter 3: Monsoon

The Inspector stood respectfully in the door, his notebook in hand. This part about his job he hated with a passion, but it needed to be done. Phryne looked up from consoling her friend and gave him an approving nod.

"I know it is a bad time, Mrs. Denier, but I am afraid I have to ask some questions about your late husband."

A pair of red, swollen eyes stared at him in confusion for a moment, obviously trying to sort him into a particular corner of her mind. Of course she would hardly remember a policeman in a blue wool suit even though he had been a guest at her party only 12 hours ago.

"You do remember Inspector Robinson, Pauline?" He heard Phryne say, who had sensed the awkwardness invading the room. "I'm afraid she is rather in shock, Jack."

He nodded slowly. He didn't need her to do this. He was a policeman and being overlooked by the rich and important was not something he wasn't used to. If they weren't trying to shoo or threaten him out of their way. His job wasn't a popular one and he had learned not to let that bother him. He wasn't sure why it angered him so much today then.

A quiet sob tore him from his musing. Pauline Denier had returned to crying and Jack had to resist the urge to roll up his eyes. Even though she could not have slept much and, if he remembered the amount of alcohol that had flown through her champagne glass last night, she also must have a terrible hangover; her brunette hair was sitting in an immaculate do and her dress was, as far as he could decipher, of the latest fashion. When she hadn't got tears running over her lightly tanned cheeks he remembered her to be rather beautiful, if in an understated way. It annoyed him, that she would think of her looks, while her husband was lying dead outside and even more that he couldn't seem to tear a sensible word from her. The air in the sitting room was hot and suffocating; filled with sobs that he grew tired of. He felt his patience slipping. Jack stared at the shaking shoulders and made a decision.

"Maybe it is wise to attempt this at a later time. Can I speak to the rest of the party?"

"I'll bring you to them." Miss Fisher stated, barely hiding her enthusiasm of finally being able to leave the room but having the decency to remember her sobbing friend.

"Pauline, I will accompany Jack to his interviews. But I'll send Marie over, as soon as she is done."

Mrs. Denier had obviously drifted off again into her own watery world and only nodded.

"Mr. Ellis?"

The butler showed in the doorstep only a mere second later. Impressed Jack thought of Mr. Butler. Ellis must have almost the same psychic ability.

"Would you please be so kind as to bring Mrs. Denier some tea. Maybe with something strong in it?" Phryne requested and didn't wait for an answer before sweeping out the door.

X

The little group littered through the emerald green cushions of the drawing room, was silent. There was only that much you could talk with people you had met just the night before, only to end an enjoyable evening with the dead body of an acquaintance. Miss White got to her feet with a smooth gesture and fished a cigarette out of her silver case.

"Please allow me."

Brad Sinclair missed the disapproving look of his wife that was quickly hidden by a faux smile as he scrambled to his feet and patted his pockets for a lighter. Marie leaned in and took a deep breath as the flame lit up.

"Thank you." Her smile could have melted ice, but was luckily blocked from Annabel's view by her husband, who had a slight blush creeping up to his hair line. Miss White took another draw, then flung her white fur stole back over her similarly white shoulder and slipped back beside her fiancé. Mr. Sinclair stood for a moment longer, looking lost in between the expensive furniture and loving clutter collected over many years. An attentive observer might have also noticed the sweat glistening on his forehead, but none of the guests paid him that much mind. Finally he sunk back beside his wife on the loveseat, careful to the distance from her and also the seat cushions. The wind rattled in the shutters as it picked up and threw the first raindrops against the glass. Aromatic smoke curled through the room. After the first shock had departed the leftover guests were starting to get bored; nothing much seemed to be happening even though the police had started to swarm the estate and had shooed them up here for questioning. Quiet chatter was started again. There was only so much silence you could bear, even with people you only had met the night before.

The Captain, whose name nobody remembered, cracked a joke resulting in uneasy laughter. It managed to drown out, however, the quietly whispered words exchanged between the Sinclairs.

"I think we should tell him, Brad."

"It's none of our business."

"Nothing of this here is our business. But he ought to know."

"I will not tell him and neither will you."

The glare, Brad Sinclair shot his wife could have killed on the spot. It was quite a shame, he thought, that looks were so inefficient.

Just that moment the Honourable Phryne Fisher entered the room, followed by a man who by the way he was holding himself could be nothing but a policeman. Marie White vaguely remembered seeing him at the party, looking uneasy and alien. She was intrigued.

X

Rain was pelting down on the dark green foliage, as the black police car left the last houses behind. Despite the gravity of the situation Dottie found she was having a rather pleasant time. It was nice to not feel carsick for once and having time to enjoy the slightly blurred view over the soft hills just outside of Melbourne. Hugh Collins was driving very much in line with his character – a bit nervous, but mostly save and slow. The smell of his aftershave, very nice, if a little too eagerly applied, lingered in the car and Dorothy found, that it added to the pleasure of just sitting here in the dry and watch the thick curtains of rain fall all around them. They didn't say much; didn't need to. The comfortable silence was rudely interrupted by a pair of headlights flying towards them at a speed that was far from save or slow. Their horn was drowned out by the rain as the dark car raced right towards them. Hugh ripped the wheel to the side, the screeching tyres losing grip on the wet street, causing the police car to slide across the asphalt as the other car missed them by a bare two inches. Spinning, the vehicle came to a halt in the ditch while the offending driver's car vanished behind the wall of water. The couple sat for a while panting in absolute silence, getting their grips on still being alive despite the odds.

"Hugh, I didn't think I would ever say this," uttered Dottie finally her voice still shaking, "but it might after all be safer to drive with Miss Fisher."