Castlemaine Murders Part 7

With an elevation of over 900 feet above sea level, an invigorating climate without extremes, and generally healthy conditions, Castlemaine is an attractive place for a holiday.

Victorian Government Tourist Bureau guide book 'A fine kettle of fish!' exclaimed Dot. She kicked at an inof-fensive pa.s.sing stone. She was returning from the telegraph office, having worded a suitable message fit for a Reverend Mother's eye, which Phryne's might not have been. Just once, Dot thought, I would like a whole month to go past with nothing much happening. A few parties, a few dinners, a little art appreciation, swimming now that the weather was agreeable, reading and sewing in the evening in that nice garden which Miss Camellia had so magically made.

The garden comforted Dot. Previously Phryne had had a yard with dustbins and hens. Now she had a bower with a bamboo hedge, a fence to hide the chooks and the dustbins behind, a fernery with white azaleas called 'Phryne' and a planting of sweet smelling trailers-jasmine and wisteria. Lin had provided bamboo furniture and it was just the place to sit in on a hot night with a shandy and a mosquito candle on the table. When the plants grew higher it would be entirely private.

And it would be pleasant to go to Eltham in the big car. Dot was almost reconciled to driving, though not driving with Phryne. Phryne drove like a demon.

Perhaps we could take a picnic...

Dot woke from her reverie just in time to see a totally unbelievable but definitely real khaki-coloured motorcycle roaring towards her down the footpath. The rider was helmeted and masked in a m.u.f.fler. The machine was almost on her before she threw herself over a low fence and into someone's privet hedge. And when she struggled out of the hedge, it was just a drone on the horizon.

'b.l.o.o.d.y disgraceful! Are you b.l.o.o.d.y all right, love? Someone b.l.o.o.d.y call a b.l.o.o.d.y copper!' bellowed a woman in a baby's bottom pink art silk dress so short it showed her garters. Dot, very shaken, leaned a little into the strong arm, imprinting her cheek with fifteen jingly gold bracelets. A reek of patchouli washed over Dot. Her rescuer was clearly one of St Kilda's working girls. Which didn't mean that it wasn't a timely rescue or that Dot wasn't grateful. Wasn't her own sister employed to teach deportment to Tilly Devine's girls in Sydney? Dot took a deep breath and stood up, leaning on the wh.o.r.e's arm.

'He just come out of b.l.o.o.d.y nowhere,' exclaimed the woman. 'Down the b.l.o.o.d.y pavement and b.l.o.o.d.y almost hit you!'

'Thank you,' murmured Dot. 'Can you see my handbag?'

'Here you are, now sit down here until you get your b.l.o.o.d.y breath. I never b.l.o.o.d.y saw such a thing! b.l.o.o.d.y gutter crawlers are bad enough...'

Dot sat down on the fence and considered herself. A little scratched, a little shocked, nothing worse. One stocking ruined, as always. Adventure and stockings did not go together. Someone else approached.

'Here you b.l.o.o.d.y are!' exclaimed the woman. 'Never a b.l.o.o.d.y copper around when you b.l.o.o.d.y need one! You want to b.l.o.o.d.y do something about this! Some f.u.c.king b.a.s.t.a.r.d just ran this lady down.'

'Name?' asked an official voice.

'Dot Williams,' said Dot. Her vision was blurry. All she could see was blue serge and b.u.t.tons. The s.p.a.ce above the b.u.t.tons gave a gasp.

'Miss Williams? You're Hugh Collins' intended, aren't you? There's going to be h.e.l.l to pay over this. Mabel, did you see it?'

'I b.l.o.o.d.y did,' declared Mabel. 'He come off the road there, just at the corner, and came b.l.o.o.d.y roaring down here as though there was no next b.l.o.o.d.y Wednesday. And I'll tell you another thing for free. He was b.l.o.o.d.y aiming at her.'

'You sure?' The policeman sounded sceptical. The arm around Dot stiffened.

'Of course I'm b.l.o.o.d.y sure. I got his number, if that helps the constabulary in their b.l.o.o.d.y enquiries.'

'You got his number, Mabel? Good girl. What was it?'

'MW 471. Saw it clear as b.l.o.o.d.y day. Now if you're quite b.l.o.o.d.y finished, I gotta get this lady home before she b.l.o.o.d.y expires on the pavement. If you don't b.l.o.o.d.y mind.'

'Can you walk, Miss Williams?' Dot could see the policeman now. He was a young man with a concerned, grave face. 'I can call for a car but it'll take a while.'

'I'm nearly home,' said Dot. 'If Miss Mabel would come with me, I can walk that far.'

'I can b.l.o.o.d.y do that,' said Mabel. 'Come on, love. One foot in front of the other.'

Mr Butler received his third shock of the day when Dot limped up to the front door, leaning on the arm of a lady of the night and accompanied by a policeman. Phryne and Eliza jumped up when they came in. Dot was as white as her dowry bed-linen and Phryne was horrified.

'Sit down, Dot dear, ask for anything you want. Tea for Dot, Mr Butler, and stiff drinks all round. Do sit down, Constable. h.e.l.lo, I'm Phryne Fisher, nice to meet you.'

Mabel, already uneasy in this elegant parlour, took Phryne's hand gingerly.

'Well, I'll be off, love,' she said to Dot.

'No, do stay. Have a drink and tell us what happened. What's your fancy?' asked Phryne. She grinned at Mabel and Mabel suddenly felt better.

'Gin and orange, dear, if you're having one. Well, it was b.l.o.o.d.y awful,' began Mabel. 'I come from the Town Hall where Carmel the Comm, I mean, Miss Shute, gimme a lecture on how the workers' revolution would triumph, two bob and a food voucher. Then...'

Phryne listened carefully. The constable made notes. By the time she had absorbed two stiff gins, Mabel had lost her fear. While Phryne turned her attention to Dot, Mabel found herself talking about her life to Eliza, the other lady, who seemed sympathetic and was so good a listener that Mabel forgot she was in a lady's parlour and talked as she would to her girlfriends.

Phryne gave Dot a swift physical once-over, took off her stocking and bathed her skinned knee and sat down beside her.

'Try to drink all that tea, Dot dear, you've had a shock,' she urged.

'I can see it when I close my eyes,' said Dot, proud that her voice did not tremble. 'The bike getting closer and closer, the wind of it as it pa.s.sed.'

'Yes, the thing to do is let it run, like a cine film. After a while it will slow down and then it will stop and go away forever. But if you resist and order your mind to forget it, the sight will lodge in the back of your head and give you night-mares. Believe me, I know what I'm talking about. Now drink up,' urged Phryne.

'There's brandy in this tea,' protested Dot.

'There certainly is, and as soon as you finish it you are going to bathe and lie down until you feel better. And when I lay hands on the b.a.s.t.a.r.d who did this, I am going to make him really wish that he hadn't.'

Dot drank the tea. The immediate effect of brandy in the middle of the day was to make her sleepy. The motorcycle came and went in front of her eyes. Phryne escorted her upstairs, inserted her into a soothing bath into which she poured a large handful of Egyptian a.s.ses Milk Bath As Used By Cleopatra and left her to soak while she found a long, silky, autumn leaf patterned gown which Lin Chung had given Dot for her birthday. Phryne was seething with cold fury. It was one thing to threaten Phryne herself. But to attempt murder on Dot was another. When she found that motorcyclist she would chain him to the back of his own bike and take him for a nice long drag.

Dried and dressed, Dot wanted to come downstairs again. To lie in her bed and watch that motorbike approach would be too uncomfortable. Phryne installed her in the garden under the bamboo bower with a gla.s.s of sherry cobbler, the newspaper-someone was still seeking Amelia Gascoigne's relatives-and her sewing and rejoined the group in the parlour.

To her amazement, Mabel and Eliza were getting along swimmingly. This was clearly not the first time that Eliza had spoken to a wh.o.r.e. The obscenities with which Mabel punc-tuated her speech did not faze Eliza at all. Clearly Eliza had spent a fair amount of time with Lady Alice What'shername in the East End. Phryne stuffed a banknote into Mabel's hand as she was leaving.

'I don't b.l.o.o.d.y need this for just doing what I b.l.o.o.d.y did,' she protested, shaking her bottle blonde head.

'Take it because it would make me feel better,' said Phryne. The shrewd eyes surveyed Miss Fisher appraisingly.

'Your sister says you're a detective. You gonna find that b.l.o.o.d.y b.a.s.t.a.r.d?'

'Yes,' said Phryne gently.

'You gonna nail his b.a.l.l.s to a tree?'

'Both of them,' said Phryne. 'With two separate nails.'

Mabel grinned. 'Should happen to more of 'em,' she declared. 'Ta-ra, then!' and she went down the steps.

The constable was taking his leave. 'I'll let Hugh Collins know,' he said. 'He'll likely be around as soon as he hears. This is an attempted murder, Miss Fisher. I'll report to Detective Inspector Robinson.'

'How reliable is Mabel?' asked Phryne. The grave policeman considered the question. He seemed too young to know as much as he evidently knew about the street trades of St Kilda. His eyes were grey and weary and his voice low.

'Drinks a bit-they all do. Doesn't drug, though. Been around for years, Mabel has. I reckon if she says that's how it happened, then that's how it happened. I'll let the beat officers know she's helping us and they can give her a bit of leeway. That'll keep her sweet. Been on the game for more than ten years, poor old girl. Well, I'll be off. Got to trace that number.'

Mr Butler showed the constable out. Then he returned to Phryne.

'Miss Fisher, I really...'

'I know, I know,' said Phryne. 'This is quite above and beyond the call of duty. But think about it, Mr Butler, and please don't give your notice. I can't go through all that again.'

'I was about to say, Miss Fisher,' said the butler, drawing himself up to his full height, 'that if Mrs Butler and I can be of any a.s.sistance in apprehending the villain who attacked Miss Williams, you have only to ask.'

'Thank you, Mr Butler, that is very kind of you,' replied Phryne. 'If the occasion arises I shall let you know. I've left Dot in the bower, perhaps Mrs B wouldn't mind keeping an eye on her through the kitchen window? Dot hates being fussed over. And another drink for my sister and me. What's your pleasure, Eliza?'

'Just tea,' said Eliza. 'Isn't this interesting! Mabel tells me that one does not starve in Australia.'

'No,' said Phryne, accepting a gin and tonic. 'Not starve to death, not usually. Provided you're first at the pig bin you can get the best vegetables and there's usually a bit of work to be picked up here and there, but times are hard and getting harder. Food's not as dear as in England and the climate is kinder. You don't freeze to death here if you have only one blanket. You got on well with Mabel, Eliza. I was most impressed.'

Eliza blushed and ruffled her hair, a gesture Phryne remem-bered from childhood.

'Oh, well, it's the same as the East End but not so dirt poor. It's all people.'

'Eliza, why did you get sent to Australia? I've got letters from both Father and Mother today but I haven't read them yet, and I won't if you don't want me to, but can't you tell me what is going on?'

'I'd like to, Phryne, but I can't. I really can't.' Eliza's voice was strained, near to breaking point.

'Why can't you?'

'I just can't. Read the letters. Perhaps Father has told you.'

'I won't if you don't want me to,' Phryne said again.

'No,' said Eliza, and burst into tears. 'No, please don't.'

'All right,' said Phryne. 'And when you trust me again, as you used to, you shall tell me yourself. But tell me this-is it a medical problem? Would you like to see a very discreet lady doctor who is a close friend of mine?'

'No!' exclaimed Eliza. m.u.f.fling her face in her handker-chief, she upset her tea cup as she sprang to her feet and rushed out of the room.

'Sisters,' said Phryne to Mr Butler when she went into the kitchen for a dishcloth.

'I have had the same problem myself, Miss Fisher. Do allow me,' said Mr Butler as he preceded Miss Fisher to the parlour. 'In my sister's case it was religion. One of those ranting ones. Most unpleasant while it lasted.'

'What cured her?' asked Phryne, watching him remove tea from the small table with precise, economical movements, never spilling a drop on the carpet.

'She fell in love, Miss Fisher. With a most eligible young man in the ship's chandler's line.'

'We can hope, then,' said Phryne.

'We can always hope, Miss Fisher,' Mr Butler told her as the doorbell rang.

It was Hugh Collins in a fine state of disarray. Phryne grabbed his arm.

'Dot's all right,' she said sharply. 'But if you rush in looking like that you'll startle her and she's had enough shocks for one day. Straighten your collar, comb your hair, take a deep breath. Dot values her self control. You don't want to puncture it.'

Obedient to the voice of female authority, Hugh Collins did as he was bid. When he was the picture of a tidy young gentleman again, Mr Butler took him out to the garden and Phryne sagged back in her chair.

Mysteries all around, and now an attempted murder. Who cared that much about a man seventy years dead?

Later in the day Phryne answered the door to reveal a huge bouquet of white peonies and Lin Chung.

'Camellia sent these,' he said, handing them over. 'And I have news to relate.'

'That is very kind of Camellia. They're beautiful. I trust she is well?'

Phryne accepted the blooms and gave them to Mr Butler to arrange. She approved of Lin Chung's new wife, a Chinese widow with green fingers and perfect English. Before she married Camellia had agreed to Phryne's concubinage, and they had become friends.

'I have news to relate too,' she said. 'Sit down and let's swap.'

The conversation lasted through three cups of Chinese tea (Phryne) and a gla.s.s of lemon squash (Lin).

'How curious! You see what this attack on Miss Williams means, Phryne,' said Lin, putting a hand on Phryne's knee. She covered it with her own.

'I see that a nasty and possibly final revenge is about to be wreaked on the motorcyclist as soon as I lay hands on him,' said Phryne. 'What are you trying to say?'

'Someone must have seen us find that body. How else would they have known that Miss Williams was part of it?

Someone at Luna Park saw us talking to that stupid policeman.'

'Y-e-s,' drawled Phryne. 'It would not have been hard to find out who I was. That bone-headed cop might have told anyone who asked. And I left my card with Messrs Bennet and Dalby. What do you suggest? An employee? A visitor?'

'The only people I am sure weren't in it were the nuns and the orphans,' replied Lin, 'and that's only because they were roped together.'

'That might explain the strange messages from the mermaid. They were all in the "beware" category, as far as memory serves. I'll ask the girls when they get home...Lord, what about the girls? Are they in danger?'

'They will be, if Miss Williams is in danger,' said Lin.

Phryne corrected him sharply. 'Will you stop calling her "Miss Williams"? You usually call her Dot.'

'Sorry, I've spent the afternoon being excessively polite to my oldest ancestor. My great great grandfather's brother, Lin Gan. It's odd, Phryne, but I always ran away from him when I was a child because he was so censorious. Now he seems almost heroic, though all he did in the riot was to stand and stare.'

'You're not a child any more,' said Phryne. 'And perhaps he approves of you, just a little.'

'Yes,' said Lin, 'he does. Which is why I have to go to Castlemaine.'

'When?'

'Wednesday, I expect. First I must speak to the old Hu lady, then I will take the car. That will get me out of Grand-mother's way, at least.'

'And out of the firing line, with any luck,' said Phryne.

'If that is the case, then I shall not go,' said Lin. 'I can at least be as brave as my ancestor.'