Chapter Five

After the shortest of altercations, the trunk was deposited in the back of the taxi, and the motorcade made its way back to 221B The Esplanade. There, the problem article found its resting place in Miss Fisher's parlour and its porters were dispatched to the kitchen to claim due reward from the refrigerator, via the benevolent hand of Mr Butler.

Alone with her booty, Miss Fisher sank to her knees and tried the locks. The trunk proved to be unlocked, and she threw back the lid eagerly.

And sneezed (an activity to which her unborn child reacted noticeably, and had to be shushed and told to stay put, thank you very much). The top layer of the trunk contained clothing which was mostly the colour of the dust in which it was covered. Looking more closely as she removed it, she decided it was earth - Mr Gillander appeared to have been a keen gardener.

The next layer contained one or two books, and a package of letters tied together. With satisfaction, she noted that they were directed to Gillander at an address in Footscray; the following morning's work was therefore clear. Idly, she picked up the books. Archaeology? Gillander was perhaps, then, an educated man?

Beneath these, the reason for the trunk's inordinate weight was self-evident. It was almost half-filled with what appeared to be archaeological specimens.

Rocks.

"Tea, Madam?" She jumped; Mr Butler had done his usual silent approach. She smiled her thanks, and repacked the trunk, keeping only the packet of letters to hand.

"Haul me up, please, Mr B?" she held out a plaintive hand, and was drawn delicately to her feet.

She took the cup from him, sipped from it, and said "I think I'll take this up to bed with me. Has Soo put my night things out?"

"She has, Madam."
"In that case, good night!"

She sat up in bed for a little while, sipping her tea and perusing the letters. Signed only "Jen", they were from Brisbane, and had the easy familiarity of family. Wife? No, this one was signed "your loving sister".

She was settling for the night when the door opened to reveal a much-loved and very weary policeman.

"Hello, Jack," she smiled sleepily. "Did you get them?"

He slipped off his shoes and came to join her. "We did. And they weren't very polite about you, I'm afraid." He slipped an arm around her shoulders and placed a protective hand on her bump; she laced her fingers with his, and turned her head for a kiss.

"How could they be rude about me? An art lover, and expectant mother? Surely they thought I was an easy mark," she chortled.

"Yes, well, they were disabused of the notion quite quickly," he replied. "How did you get on with Bert's dead body? I see we've acquired some luggage."

She frowned. "Mmm. Retrieved from the thoroughly unpleasant captain of the Marella before she sailed on tonight's tide. The thing's about half full of archaeological finds - Bert and Cec could barely manage it between them, so how on earth Gillander lifted it all by himself, heaven only knows. Still," she continued, "these letters were in it, so I'll be able to go and see his landlady tomorrow; and there's an address for a sister in Brisbane too."

He squeezed her shoulders and rolled off the bed to start undressing. "I suppose it's useless to ask you to take it easy?"

She rolled her eyes. "Jack, I'm going calling on a landlady, not climbing Uluru." He stopped in the act of removing his cufflinks to glare at her; she relented. "I tell you what. As a special favour, and in recognition of my advanced stage of infirmity" (at this he snorted and threatened her with a pillow) "I'll find out about the upshot of the post-mortem by the medium of telephone from the comfort of my own front hall. Will that make you happy?"

He climbed in beside her. "Delirious," he muttered, putting out the light and possessing her hand in both of his. "G'night."

She looked fondly down at him, and reflected; if only her ten-years-younger self could see her now. Not wildly dancing the night away in the constant battle to forget the wartime fear of dawn, and fuelled by far too much champagne, but tucked up in bed with a gently snoring policeman and a bump the size of a beach ball.

There was nothing for it, she resolved; once this baby was born and she was back on her feet, she was going to have to take Jack dancing again.