Chapter 14 - Persuasion
*.*.*.
"Peony! Peony!"
The sound of Bill the doorman yelling her name in distress was more than enough to send Phryne running down the stairs.
The cries had brought a crowd of staff downstairs, including Madam Lyon. On the ground at the bottom of the stairs lay Lena. Her hair was a mess, clothes torn and as Phryne got closer she could see blood on her face.
"Is she dead?"
"What happened?"
"Should we call the cops?"
"No cops." Madam Lyon glared at everyone, unable to determine who had uttered that last sentence. She and Phryne knelt down beside Lena.
"She's not dead, so go about your business," Madam Lyon ordered the onlookers. "Bill, help us get her up to my chambers out of the way."
The hefty man managed to carry her alone and within minutes she had been placed on Madam Lyon's bed, with just Madam Lyon and Phryne to look after her as the rest of the staff were ordered to carry on opening up the club without them.
"Maybe we should call the cops," Phryne uttered, not making eye contact with Madam Lyon as she did.
Madam Lyon had got a cloth and basin of water and was trying to clean Lena's wounds. "I don't know what's happened to make you change your stance on the police…"
"Nothing," Phryne lied, "it's just, after the business with Lavinia I realised that even I have my limits."
Madam Lyon made no reply to that, just carried on trying to look after Lena as if Phryne hadn't spoken.
"She didn't fall over, did she?" Phryne insisted. "Someone attacked her, someone did this and the police have got the resources I don't to find out who it was."
"Before we find out who we need to know why, Peony," Madam Lyon replied calmly. "For all we know a cop did this because she worked here."
On the bed, Lena groaned and managed to gasp out one word. "Fisher."
Phryne's heart stopped beating for a second. "What?"
"He said it was for someone called Fisher. A lesson."
"We don't know any Fishers," Phryne insisted.
Madam Lyon stood and looked at Phryne. "Didn't someone come here looking for a Fisher a few weeks back?"
"But there isn't a Fisher here," Phryne clung to her story, knowing it was all lies but hoping that she was the only one in the club with that knowledge.
"Put something in my purse," Lena managed to say in the following gap.
Madam Lyon grabbed the purse before Phryne could. She unceremoniously dumped the contents on the bed. What stood out among the loose change and makeup was a business card for a place called Albert's Antiques and Curiosities.
"This? An antique dealer is beating up my girls for someone we've never heard of?" Madam Lyon pushed the card at Phryne. "Look into it."
Phryne took the card. She supposed over her lifetime there had been more than a few men she'd annoyed to the point of them wanting to get revenge on her but she had been Miss Fisher for so few of those years it made the list of suspects very small.
The business card gave nothing away. The name Albert meant nothing to her. Phryne thought about the obnoxious man who'd assaulted Lola, his name she didn't know, he could be Albert although how he would have found out her name was Fisher she had no idea. The only other man she could think of who'd want to attack her personally was Foyle. Well, she knew he wasn't an Albert.
So Phryne supposed she was going to an antiques shop.
"Will you at least make sure Lena gets some medical attention?"
"Do you think me an animal?" Madam Lyon asked her snappily.
"Not you, no, whoever did this," Phryne replied with no offence, just anger at whoever had hurt Lena.
Madam Lyon nodded as she walked Phryne to the door. "I'll take care of Lena; you find that animal and make sure he knows not to attack the ladies of the Imperial Club."
*.*.*.
The front door has been broken into by smashing the window on the door. Hugh let Jack gingerly open it. The glass cracked under the policemen's feet.
They shared a look at a severed finger dropped on the floor by the door. They had been warned about the dog that had possibly bitten off its dead owner's finger and had been assured it had been securely tied up. Hugh tried not to retch as he collected it in case it proved to be evidence.
"Tell me about the call again, Collins," Robinson instructed.
"Er, anonymous sir. A customer claimed she'd turned up first thing and couldn't get in. She called the police and Foster came out to investigate, broke into the front and found the body out back."
Jack stared at the brown bag in Collins' hand that contained the severed digit. "He didn't remove the finger?"
"He didn't bring any evidence bags; he thought the call was a hoax."
"Clearly not. I want you to ask around the neighbourhood, see if we can identify the caller."
"Could they have been the murderer?"
"Unlikely but possible considering they left no details. Even if they're not, they might have more information to give."
Hugh jotted the task down in his notebook. "Yes sir."
They walked through to the back room where the body lay still in situ. The other constable straightened when he saw Jack.
"Albert Monkton, sir. This was his shop."
Jack looked him over. "Any obvious cause of death?"
"None, sir. Just one missing finger and a bloody nose."
Jack grimaced. "Sounds unpleasant but not deadly. Let's get the body to the morgue and find out what happened. Any sign of break and enter?"
Foster shook his head. "No, sir."
"So the murderer was presumably known to the deceased and had a key."
"Or," Hugh piped up, "the murderer came in when the shop was open and then locked up after."
Jack looked closer at the victim's nose. "Possibly, Collins. Right, let's speak to the neighbours. I want a description of everyone who's been in and around this building in the last day."
*.*.*.
Phryne sat at Jack's kitchen table, staring at her find. She didn't know what it was. She had spent all day puzzling over it, to the point where she'd had to ask Madam Lyon for the evening off to carry on her investigation. Which was why she was waiting for Jack to come home.
He arrived home later than she was expecting and from his double take at the sight of her, clearly hadn't been expecting to see her there.
"How late did I leave the office?" he joked as he set about putting together some food for dinner.
"I got sent home early for being distracted."
"This isn't home," he replied airily. "Have you eaten?"
"What? Oh, erm, not really."
Jack continued putting together what was now two plates of bread, cheese and cold meats. Phryne already knew that he didn't keep much food in his cupboards, she supposed he ate his main meals elsewhere but she'd never found out where.
He then carried the plates to the table, where he finally spied Phryne's finds. "What's that?"
Phryne moved them out of the way so he could put the food down. "I don't know."
"Then why's it on my kitchen table? Is that blood?"
"Albert's Antiques and Curiosities," Phryne said softly.
She watched as his whole body seemed to become alert. So he was looking after the case then, or at least knew about it. "Excuse me?"
"I found that picture pinned to the back door of Albert's Antiques and Curiosities by that… thing."
Jack grabbed a napkin before he picked the items up. "That's a photograph of Foyle and Albert Monkton."
"Who are the others?" Phryne asked.
Jack shook his head. "No idea. Nor this strange knife but…"
Phryne smiled as she watched him, she could almost see him working things out. He was so engrossed in the mystery that he wasn't really questioning how these things ended up in his house. For a moment at least.
Jack sighed reluctantly and put them back down, away from her reach she noticed. "Tell me again how you came to be in possession of these."
Phryne opened her mouth but struggled to get the words out.
"Phryne, tell me you weren't our anonymous caller."
"Well I wasn't going to give my name," she retorted. "I hardly know what it is myself these days."
Jack groaned. "For God's sake, Phryne, why not just come to me?"
"Because I wanted to figure it out for myself, Jack. This is all about me somehow. Yes, I called because someone needed to deal with the body but–"
"Wait, how did you know Monkton was dead? The police had to break in."
She chuckled. "Oh, come on Jack. I break into your house regularly. Do you not think I know how to lock up after a break-in too?"
"Maybe I should give you a key," he grumbled. "Fine, you're right, I believe that you could have got in and out of a locked building leaving no trace. Which does make me wonder what the hell I'm doing with you when you're clearly a criminal genius."
Phryne put a hand on his knee and dragged it up his thigh. "Oh, you know very well what you're doing well me."
"Break and enter, stealing evidence," Jack muttered mostly to himself. "What did you mean that this was all about you?"
"Well, you're already unhappy about me not bringing this evidence straight to you…"
"Phryne…" he warned.
"Fine," she replied in an exasperated sigh, taking her hand away from him as she did. "One member of our staff was beaten up on her way to work yesterday. The man gave her my name, my real name, and slipped a business card for that antiques shop into her purse. When I went to investigate I found the shop closed so I let myself in and found the body and that."
Jack stared at her in disbelief. "And at no point did you think to speak to me? You were here last night, Phryne. At no point did you think to mention to me that you had been targeted?"
"Madam Lyon was very clear about no cops," she pouted. "Besides, I did call didn't I?"
"With barely a fraction of the story! Phryne, this person killed one person and beat up another yesterday and they appear to be goading you for some reason."
Phryne reached over for the photograph. "It's Foyle, isn't it?"
"We don't know that, but it seems likely," Jack agreed.
"Why does he want me, Jack?"
"Oh, why does anyone want you?"
She hadn't meant to hurt him but clearly she had. She supposed she understood. If she found out Jack had another lady friend she'd be unhappy, which was a strange realisation. She'd never wanted a man's fidelity before. She supposed it would be the secrecy she wouldn't like.
"I'm very used to handling things alone, Jack. It just didn't occur to me to ask a copper for help but you're right, I should have come to you. And now I have."
She'd spoken softly and he looked at her in surprise. She understood, her whole persona was harsh and brash, subtle calm apologies were not her trademark but she genuinely wanted to apologise to him.
He took the picture back and moved their plates so that it was between them on the table. "Foyle was a lecturer in ancient civilizations at Melbourne University. At a guess, this is an archaeological dig at Giza."
"With students," Phryne agreed. "They all seem much younger than him."
"Presuming the killer is Foyle, he's already taken out one of them. Albert Monkton."
"So we need to know who the other three are."
Jack nodded. "It may be that one of them is the murderer and Foyle in just as much danger."
"Possibly," Phryne reluctantly agreed, "but it doesn't explain my involvement."
"Even if it is Foyle we still don't know why he's so fascinated with you. When was the last time you went to Giza?" Jack joked.
"I've never left Melbourne," Phryne admitted. "What about the other thing. You picked up something from it."
Jack reluctantly put it beside the photograph. "How good a look did you get at Monkton?"
"I got a fair look; I was trying to see if I recognised him."
"Did you?"
"Not at all."
Jack nodded. "Well, the only mark on his body, besides a missing finger, was a bloodied nose with cuts around the nostrils. I was just thinking that, with the blood on the blade, this could easily have made those cuts."
"But why?'
"No idea."
Phryne studied it more closely. "It looks very old. Could it be ancient Egyptian?"
"Possibly," Jack agreed, "or a more recent replica of the original. But why put it up the nose and make those cuts?"
"I remember reading about the Egyptians when I was at school," Phryne said, trying to dredge up the memory. "When they did the embalming they removed all the organs. They pulled the brain out through the nose."
Jack stared at the instrument in horror.
"Was this Albert Monkton's brain there?" Phryne prompted in the following silence.
"I don't know. The coroner didn't mention it," Jack replied. "I don't know whether they check that the deceased still has all their organs on a body with no great big holes in it."
Phryne took a slice of meat and bit into it, causing Jack to grimace. She grinned at his reaction. "Didn't think you were squeamish, Jack."
"I'm not but it'll take me a few minutes to go from discussing the removal of brains to eating dinner."
He took the photograph and the instrument, wrapped them in the napkin and took them away into the hall. Phryne suspected he'd put them in his coat pocket to make sure he remembered to take them into work with him in the morning and possibly to try and hide them from her.
"Aren't you going to rush back to the office to carry on the investigation, Inspector?" Phryne called cheekily after him.
"I should," he grumbled as he returned.
"But you can't resist me?"
He actually smiled as he shook his head. "No, but that's not the problem."
"What is?"
"You are," he replied. "I can't leave you alone now. If I go into work, I've got to find you a police escort."
Phryne laughed. "Jack, I'm perfectly safe. I escaped Foyle as a child; he'll stand no chance now that I'm an armed fighter."
"No," he argued. "This murderer is dangerous and after you. I'm sorry, Phryne."
She battered her eyelashes at him in an exaggerated manner. "Does that mean I'll have to stay here tonight?"
He grinned, sat back down and finally made a start on his meal. "Looks that way."
"And you'll have to keep a very close eye on me?"
"Extremely close," he agreed.
"We'll just have to make the most of it then," she replied coquettishly as they both started eating their food a little more quickly than they needed to.
TBC...