Chapter 12: Heat Of The Day

Miss Williams told them everything that had happened, which wasn't all that much. She had shared a surprisingly good cup of tea and a piece of a cake that would not be donated into the bake sale after all, with Mrs. Binley and had listened while she talked about her work, her hard life and mostly and foremost, her son. It had been just little stories about his childhood, when he had hidden small lizards in his sister Anna's bed, back when she had still been alive. Anna Binley had died two years ago at the birth of her first child and Dot had sacrificed one of her best handkerchiefs to the tears in Mrs. Binleys eyes at the memory.

"I thought after Jimmy didn't return from the war, nothing worse could happen. Turns out I was wrong." She'd said, getting up to stir a pot on the fire. Dot had stayed silent drowning in compassion for the other woman.

"And now Ryan's gonna head for the lockup. Or get shot on the run." Mrs. Binley had mused miserably. "Tell me, Miss Williams, why does God hate us so much?"

Dot had flinched at this. She wondered sometimes just how God could let all of this happen. But then she was only human, surely she wasn't meant to understand his ways.

"I don't believe he does, Mrs. Binley." She'd heard herself say. "I think he loves you and Ryan very much and maybe that's why he sent me and Miss Fisher here to help."

The sincerity in her own voice had surprised her. It was probably quite pretentious to call youself a tool of god's will and Dorothy still was not sure if she would tell her priest about this. But nevertheless she'd felt that Miss Fisher was the best chance Ryan had for a fair treatment. Mrs. Binley had answered with silence, stirring quietly in a brown soup that might or might not have had edible contents floating in it.

"When they were kids, Anna and Ryan often played on the rooftop of the 'Garner's' shoe factory." She had finally spoken to nobody in particular.

"Thank you, Mrs. Binley." Had Dorothy said with relief, before hurrying out into the fresh air of the Australien afternoon.

Now she finished her story, leaving out the part where she had considered briefly to head to the factory herself. Miss Fisher surely would have, but then again, she wasn't Miss Fisher and she didn't own a gun either. She was only Miss Williams, assistant sleuth and...

"You are a treasure, Dot." Miss Fisher exclaimed and hugged her companion to herself tightly. The 'treasure' was unable to keep the proud grin from spreading over her face while her employer was already fishing for her handbag.

"And where are you thinking you're going, Miss Fisher?" Interrupted the Inspector the happy moment.

"We, Jack, are going to the shoe factory of course. Come along."

He grabbed her arm and spun her.

"Miss Fisher, I told you, you need to stay out of this. Besides, factories are a dangerous playground. On a rooftop nevertheless, with a criminal."

Miss Williams knew that he was thinking of her little adventure as a tea lady and dropped her gaze. That had been quite frightening, another reason why she would not go without help.

"Oh don't be a spoil sport, Jack. You suspecting me in the murder, not the robbery, so finding Ryan Binley is a completely separate case."

Phryne pulled free of the Inspectors rather gentle grip. He sighed.

"Alright, Collins, we are heading..."

The Constables head appeared before the higher ranking officer managed to finish the sentence.

"Sir, there is Mrs. Denier out here. She says she was asked in for questioning?"

"Looks like it's just you and me then, Dot." Phryne grinned, a familiar look of lust for adventure appearing on her features. "Inspector."

She swept out avoiding the protest that would surely come, followed by an apologetic Miss Williams. DI Jack Robinson sat back down, capitulating to the fact that he was in love with an insane woman.

Only moments later Pauline Denier was led into the room. She did, Jack noticed, look remarkably different than the day before and not only because her tears had dried. Instead of the rather forced look of perfection she had doned on the morning her husband had died, her hair now fell in soft curves under a fashionable hat and her dress was actually flattering her frame. He couldn't help but wonder if the death of her husband hadn't turned out to be quite as despairing as first thought. After all he had heard about Marcel Denier in the last two days it wouldn't have surprised him, but that did give her a quite strong motive to rid herself of him. The Inspector offered her a chair and she sat down, her handbag clutched to herself.

"I am actually glad you called, Inspector or I would have had to call myself." She said before he could get a word in edge wise. She fished in her handbag for a crumpled envelope that she handed over to the policeman.

"Berta found this this morning in a pair of Marcel's trousers."

Jack unfolded the paper carefully and ran his eyes over the page.

"This is a letter of blackmail, Mrs. Denier."

"So it is. I do not recognise the hand though, I'm afraid."

The Inspector looked up from studying the rather messy curls of ink.

"You are aware that you are handing me evidence here that strengthens your own motive?"

At this, Mrs. Denier all but laughed out loud.

"Me? Kill Marcel. Sorry to disappoint, Inspector, but I happened to be quite fond of him."

To his questioning look she continued.

"I've had long since resigned myself to the fact that I have a philandering husband, Inspector. He had other, better sides to himself, he was a loving companion in many ways, but this was his weakness. Some people just need their freedom I assume and you have to give it to them in order to keep them."

The Inspector felt as if his suspect had turned the tables and looked right through him. He swallowed. So this was how she saw his relationship with Miss Fisher. She was the bird that he tried to cage, knowing that she could pick the lock. He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms protectively over his chest in an effort to keep Mrs. Denier out of his private business.

"But despite your nonchalance someone thought it to be wise to blackmail your husband with an affair, Mrs. Denier?"

"Marcel would not have worried about me. However, he did have some influence in the city and I'm sure neither of us would have liked to see the pictures popping up in the papers."

"Pictures?" Jack uttered, astounded.

"They should be..." To his growing surprise, Pauline started riffling through her handbag again, producing two creased photographs. "I'm sorry, I must have not put them back in the envelope."

Jack released them from her hands, involuntarily holding his breath. They didn't show the woman he had been expecting.

X

Dorothy followed her Mistress with bated breath as they snuck up the old iron stairs. She wasn't particularly comfortable between all the heavy machinery. Too close a call had been her almost-demise by the hands of a crazed factory worker some time in the past. But this was how her life was nowadays, she went were the case and Miss Fisher led her. Dot swallowed and tried to keep pace. In truth, she wouldn't have given it up for the world. As the steps flew by, both women tried to not pay much mind to the rust that seemed to cover them. Dying by falling off a crumbling staircase was not an option. Finally they reached the sunlight through a small gap. Miss Williams saw him first. Ryan Binley was sitting at the edge of the rooftop, looking over the city, while absent mindedly playing with something that glittered suspiciously. She tried to get the attention of Miss Fisher who was blinking into the bright sun. Her quiet hiss was not quiet enough, as their suspect suddenly turned his head before jumping up, terror painted on his face.

"Ryan, stop." Yelled Phryne. "We are here to help you."

This obviously didn't convince the thief. He started running towards the maze of chimneys at the other end of the roof. Phryne chased after him, Dot close behind her. The young man vanished somewhere between the red brick.

"We just want to talk to you. Please come out." Miss Fisher panted, grabbing for her gun. She didn't know if he was armed, but he seemed desperate and she wouldn't be taking any chances. "Ryan, you have nowhere to go. Come out."

With growing tension, Miss Fisher nodded for Dot to stay back and entered the chaos of chimneys, carefully manoeuvring her heels over the rusty junk littering the floor. Her gun glittered in her outstretched hand. Both women were holding their breath while she cleared chimney after chimney. Phryne started to wonder if there might have been another exit after all when she noticed movement out of the corner of her eye. Ryan darted past her, brushing roughly against the lady detectives shoulder, causing her a moment of confusion before she ran after him. Dot had spotted the events and flew towards him from the other side, cutting off his path. Binley stopped suddenly, trying to change direction when his foot got caught on a rusty piece of pipe. Time seemed to slow down as he stumbled backwards and in surprising silence, fell over the edge of the roof.