Chapter Nine

Jack stood back politely to allow the man to lead the way into the house, and to a study that appeared to be the room in which he mostly lived. He sat at the desk, and gestured Phryne to the only other seat in the room, while Jack propped himself against an ornate wooden cabinet.

Jack performed the introductions and then asked, "You live alone, Mr Lloyd?"

"I do now. My wife died two months ago."

"Of what did she die?" asked Phryne.

"Heart attack. It was the second time – the first, a year or so ago, was milder, but this one was much more severe, and she died instantly."

"And … was cremated?" Jack again.

Lloyd hesitated, then confirmed it.

"I'll need the name of your doctor, then, sir."

Lloyd was startled. "Why on earth?"

"To confirm the cause of death. In relation to a case we are currently investigating. Purely routine, sir."

Muttering, the man dug through a pile of papers until he found a letter on headed notepaper.

"There you are. Lot of nonsense."

"I'm also trying to ascertain the ownership of an antique vase," said Phryne. "I believe you purchased a Qing vase which matches the description two years ago. Do you still have yours?"

"I do not," he said shortly.

"Then is it possible that the vase which was found in the See Yup Temple the other day was, in fact, yours?" asked Phryne directly.

He gave her a fixed look, then, pushed back his chair and went to the window to gaze at his garden.

"The ashes are my wife's, and I finally had the last word; and the word was Sorry."

Phryne's brow furrowed.

"Sorry to your wife?"

"No … sorry to the nameless half-Chinese baby my wife murdered ten years ago." He looked back at her for a moment. "I wouldn't say anything to my wife – we hadn't spoken since it happened."

They hadn't spoken for ten years? Differences temporarily forgotten, Jack and Phryne exchanged glances.

"It was she who smothered the child when it was only a few hours old, and told our daughter it had died naturally."

"Where is your daughter now?" asked Phryne.

"She was never well after the birth, and succumbed to a fever within a matter of weeks."

"And the father of the child?" she pressed.

"I never met him. All I knew was that he was Chinese, and that my daughter was in love with him and was having his child. I believe the boy's family was no more happy about the situation than we were; but my wife was simply incandescent. She took Jen – our daughter – up to Bendigo for three months at the end of the pregnancy. I didn't find out until afterwards what she had done to the baby. I couldn't believe it. It may have been half-Chinese, but it was our grandchild."

"But how did she manage to explain the death?" asked Jack.

"The local doctor was no less prejudiced than much of the rest of the population, and agreed to sign the death certificate in exchange for a healthy bribe."

Jack looked disbelieving but Phryne nodded slowly. In the days of her relationship with Lin Chung, just such inter-racial prejudice was commonplace – on both sides. It had been no easier for her to be accepted into his society than for him to be accepted into hers.

"But why put your wife's ashes in a Qing vase in the Temple?"

"First, I wanted rid of her. I made a promise before God to remain married to her, but when she died, I was released from the promise and the relief was indescribable."

"Second, the vase was worth a lot of money. I thought that the temple would be able to dispose of the ashes, but would understand the worth of its container and perhaps be able to benefit the Chinese community in some way – either selling it, or simply enjoying its aesthetic worth. The Temple, with its memorial role, seemed the obvious place."

Phryne piped up, "And the flowers? If they were meant to provide an explanation, I'm afraid they didn't really work."

The sorrow in his response was tangible.

"I don't communicate well in words, Miss Fisher. It's only in my garden that I really feel I understand what's happening around me. So – the white lilac was for the innocence of that child. The lily for our wealth that allowed my wife to dispose of it so conveniently. Geranium is folly. Oh, there were so many reasons I wanted to put geraniums into that bouquet. The folly of our marriage. The folly of our child's youthful dalliance. The folly of our society's assumption that because the Chinese culture was different from ours, it was to be distrusted and rejected."

Phryne smiled understandingly.

"And the bittersweet and cyclamen?"

"The truth that I had hoped only I would know; and the cyclamen that allowed me to bid the wife I had come to loathe a legitimate farewell."

He turned to Jack.

"So now, Inspector, what is the charge I face?"

Phryne ached to jump in, but after the day they'd had, restrained herself.

She needn't have worried.

"Mr Lloyd, ten years ago I would have been agitating about obstructing the course of justice and possibly accessory to murder after the fact. Now? Unless we can miraculously discover the identity of the young man who fathered that child, I would say we tell the Temple to dispose of the ashes of an anonymous Melbourne woman as they see fit, and retain the vase for the benefit of the Temple community."

Phryne added, "I can arrange for the message to be delivered in terms which will not result in any further questions, if you would prefer it."

Lloyd smiled a little, for the first time since they had met him. "Would you? I don't deny I'd be grateful to put the whole sorry saga behind me."

The two sleuths returned to the car, differences temporarily forgotten as they attempted to process all they had learned. Phryne automatically slid behind the wheel, and Jack didn't stop her. Just as she was reaching for the starter, though, she stopped and turned to him.

"Jack, we still don't know who broke in. It certainly wasn't Mr Lloyd."

His eyes were closed, though, and it may have been too great an effort to crank them open and think at the same time, so she left him to it and turned the car's nose for home.