Chapter Six

"Collins, I want to know every person, or every group of people, who knew that there was a valuable vase being stored at my residence last night."

"Yes, sir. Sorry sir, what vase …?"

Jack let his anger (definitely not panic) recede and laid out the facts more calmly; he also built in the possibility that Senior Detective Inspector Jack Robinson had not in any way been a factor in the previous night's attempted burglary at 221B The Esplanade; and The Honourable Phryne Fisher had been, in the traditional fashion, the Cause of the Problem.

Not being to blame didn't make him feel any better, though. Miss Fisher might be accustomed to uninvited guests at 221B, but no-one had ever broken in to Jack's house before and he really, really didn't like it.

"We need to speak to Mr Lin. Whoever drove him. And whoever gave him the vase to transport to Miss Fisher. It's a small group, one of those people will know who it was that broke into the house last night."

Constable Collins was sympathetic, as anyone would be whose front door had once been used for target practice by a gunman. Mr Lin's availability for interview was established, the car brought round and the incandescent Detective Inspector decanted into it.

When he was informed of the break-in, Lin's expression changed from polite interest to immutable granite. His apology was formal, and his approach practical.

"You will want to speak to my chauffeur, but he has been with me since my return from University, so he seems an unlikely candidate. The Trustees of the See Yup Temple are, I would think, also unlikely suspects, but you will wish to know of any persons to whom they spoke. I discussed the matter with my grandmother before approaching Miss Fisher, but your intruder appears to have been much more agile than she."

"Tell me about the Trustees?" Jack requested.

"They own the land on which the Temple is built – six separate, but adjacent plots."

"A heavy responsibility, I would think."

"Indeed – although the Society is well organised. But each man already has responsibility for his own family. And ..." he smiled wryly, "we are accustomed to working hard."

Even with Lin's help, though, the interviews were unrewarding. It was to be expected that these very responsible gentlemen had kept their counsel, and that was exactly what had happened. No-one had said anything to anyone not immediately party to the event.

"I'm sorry, Jack," said Lin as they collapsed into the back seat of the car and Collins drove them to the station; the delicate process of extracting from six senior members of Melbourne's Chinese community the information that they genuinely knew nothing about the attempted robbery had drained both men to the point that first names were a necessity, not a nicety.

"Lin," said Jack, because although he was well aware he wasn't using Mr Lin's first name, he was using the name Phryne used, and that was good enough, "I'm just glad you gave me your time. The outcome would have been the same, but I would still have been sitting in conversation over what is quite possibly the most delicious tea I've ever tasted, seven days hence, and still not found out what we needed to know."

The scene at City South was, however, somewhat distant from the calm Jack would have liked, because Miss Fisher had invaded.

When he, Collins and Lin Chung walked in the door, they saw what was at first glance a heart-warming hive of activity.

On closer inspection, it transpired that the sergeant on the telephone was talking to an auction house. The two junior constables were comparing notes as to antique shops they had visited.

He enquired mildly what new line of enquiry was being pursued, and received a rather hesitant "er, Miss Fisher …" from the desk sergeant.

Meeting no-ones eye, lips thinning, the Inspector strode through the pass-gate and the door of his own office.

The word "Hello" was delivered loudly and cheerfully by the occupant of His Chair at His Desk.

The word "Jack" was delivered with a lot less cheer and a lot more quietly.

The door closed.

It reopened a moment later to allow Miss Williams to leave the room.

Then it closed again. Very, very gently. Then the Inspector's voice was heard. Rather loudly.

The rest of the population of City South decided it was time to go to the pie cart, or at least put the kettle on for a nice, noisy, brew.