Chapter Five
The Inspector was mystified but gratified to receive a warm hug from Mrs Robinson when he came home that evening. Never one to turn down an opportunity, he responded equally warmly, but when eventually he was released, enquired mildly what had Brought That On.
She took his hand as they sat on the window seat in the parlour.
"Let's just say I had a salutary remind of my blessings this morning. I came across a girl who was proposing to walk into the sea and not come out again – all because her loathsome boyfriend had got her in the family way and then upped and left."
His response was to draw her in to his side and wrap a comforting arm around her waist. "Tell me."
She told the story, and described Mac's suggestion.
"Good idea," he agreed. "Have you spoken to Prudence?" Ever since she'd started making free with his Christian name, he'd felt entitled to do likewise.
"Not yet," answered Phryne. "I wanted to see what Ellie thought of the idea first. If she's feeling vulnerable, the thought of going into service might push her over the edge again. She's coming for lunch tomorrow to talk properly."
The following morning, though, the telephone rang just as Phryne was descending the stairs for breakfast. She watched Mr Butler answer it, and then hold out the receiver to her.
"The Inspector, Miss."
Giving him a quizzical look, she took it.
"Hello, Jack. Forgotten your cuff links again?" she teased.
"Phryne, no, I'm sorry, it's bad news. Your attempted suicide from yesterday? You said she was blonde haired, probably under twenty?"
"Yes, that's right," said Phryne, stifling a sense of foreboding.
"I'm afraid she may have succeeded this time. A young woman was found in a boat house on the Yarra early this morning. She'd hanged herself."
Phryne collapsed onto the chair beside the telephone table.
"Phryne? Are you there?"
"Yes, yes Jack, I'm here. But I don't believe it. Can I come to the morgue?"
"I was hoping you would. We don't have much to go on to identify her, so if you can give us a first name, that'll be a start."
"I'll be there within the hour," she promised, and replaced the receiver with mechanical carefulness.
"Miss?" Mr Butler appeared before her, a cup of coffee in his hand. He proffered it, and she took a grateful sip. "Is everything all right, Miss?"
"No, Mr Butler, everything is potentially All Wrong. Jack thinks he has a suicide to deal with. If it is, as he thinks, the young woman who I found at the beach yesterday morning, it would mean that in the space of a few hours she had somehow lurched from rational hope to irrational despair once more. And I don't believe that has happened."
Both Mac and the Inspector, though, were looking solemn when she arrived at the morgue. Wordlessly, Jack took Phryne to the slab and held her hand while Mac uncovered the face of the deceased. Phryne swallowed hard.
"Yes. That's Ellie. I'm sorry, she didn't tell me her second name. Her family's Catholic, she's the youngest and she was still living with her mother. That's about all I know."
Mac shook her head. "It seems so awful that she could relapse like that."
"I don't believe it, Mac!" Phryne burst out fiercely. "She wasn't happy when she left my house, but she was on the way to being contented and hopeful. She simply could not have relapsed so quickly. It must be murder." She turned to the Inspector. "Jack, she was murdered. You must see that she had to have been murdered?"
Jack took her hand in both of his, stroking it in a vain attempt to comfort her.
"Phryne, you did a marvellous job yesterday, and nothing can take that away. But Mac says there are no signs of her having been restrained, or drugged. No sign at all that the person who did this is anyone other than the victim herself. Suicide is horrible, but it happens."
"Not to Ellie," replied Phryne firmly. "You don't understand, Jack – she's a Catholic. If she's done this, they won't even give her a Christian burial."
She turned back to the body.
"Let me at least look at her wrists and ankles."
Jack nodded to Mac, who shrugged and pulled back the sheet; but no matter how closely Phryne examined the pale limbs, there was not the least hint of bruising. Phryne frowned, covered the body over again, and stood for a moment, lost in thought; her friend and her husband watched her warily.
"Did you check inside her mouth?" asked Phryne suddenly.
"I had a look, yes – there was nothing introduced into the airway. Death was from asphyxiation by the rope around the throat," Mac confirmed.
"Can I have another look?"
Mac dutifully prised open the victim's jaw, and at Phryne's request, produced a little torch to shine into the mouth.
"There!" said Phryne excitedly. "What's that?"
Mac frowned, and leaned in to see where Phryne was pointing. Then reached back to her instrument tray for some fine tweezers, in order to retrieve the item. When brought into the daylight, it proved to be a tiny fragment of fabric, which she held up for them all to examine.
"Unless she'd decided to make her last meal a silk scarf, I'd say you've got evidence pointing to murder, Inspector," announced Phryne triumphantly.