Queen of Flowers (22 page)

‘He didn’t have to,’ said Phryne. ‘She would follow him like a lamb. This is very bad. We must think of what to do. Calmly.

Go and get Dot, will you, Jane?’

169

Queen of Flowers - Pages 16/3/04 4:38 PM Page 170

QUEEN OF THE FLOWERS

‘There will be something else that I have to tell, when the wee bird is found,’ said James to Phryne as the door closed behind Jane.

Phryne gave him a look alight with intelligence and fury.

She had already guessed what he was going to say.

‘Yes,’ said Phryne. ‘But let us find her first. Stupid girl!

I wish I’d burned those romances as soon as I saw them in her hands. Now some kidnapper has her, and what is the easiest method of kidnapping? Persuade the victim to kidnap herself.

As if I didn’t have enough to do! Oh God, here’s Miss Jones, come to talk about appointing a new flower maiden. Go and tell Dot what’s happened, James dear, and I’ll be with you in a moment.’

Phryne gave Miss Jones her customary ten minutes and her tea as she strove to control her own emotions. She wasted no time in blaming herself for not making Ruth confide in her.

She hadn’t and there it was. Phryne had no use for guilt. It prevented sensible action.

Miss Jones said, ‘I’m so sorry to disturb you, Miss Fisher, but we need a new flower maiden.’

‘Yes, it seems that we do,’ said Phryne.

‘I have retrieved the costume,’ said Miss Jones. ‘The family was not helpful. They do not seem to know where Rose is, or when she is expected back. So I had a thought—would you like one of your daughters to be on the float with you? Ruth, perhaps?’

‘No,’ said Phryne quickly. ‘If I can’t take both I won’t take either. Who do you suggest?’

‘I have a list of three,’ said Miss Jones, settling down for a long discussion. Phryne wished her, politely, a long way away; in comfortable circumstances, but a long way away. She did not have time for discussions about flower maidens.

170

Queen of Flowers - Pages 16/3/04 4:38 PM Page 171

KERRY GREENWOOD

‘Miss Jones, I have something of a domestic crisis on my hands. I have always relied on your judgment. Confidently.

Who should it be?’

Miss Jones was very pleased. That Miss Fisher should rely on her judgment was very warming in a world which wasn’t noticeably appreciative of her efforts.

‘Oh, Jessica Adams,’ she said. ‘Quite the nicest girl, and also very close in size to poor Rose Weston.’

‘Jessica it shall be,’ proclaimed Phryne. She took delivery of a sheaf of tickets to various events and showed Miss Jones out into the windy darkness.

‘Miss Jones, would you like me to arrange a taxi for you?’

‘Oh no, thank you, I have my bicycle,’ said Miss Jones, and went away.

Phryne closed the door. Now there was nothing to do but wait out the night.

The council of war next morning included Bert, Cec, Robinson, James Murray, Jane and Dot. Hugh Collins, Dot’s intended, had come along on his day off to support Dot, who was very distressed.

‘Thing is,’ said Robinson, scratching an ear in embarrassment, ‘until there’s a demand there’s not a lot we can do.

Officially.’

‘But we can help,’ rumbled Hugh Collins. ‘Unofficially.’

‘What do you reckon this mongrel wants with our Ruthie?’

demanded Bert.

‘Probably money,’ said Phryne. ‘He wouldn’t have gone to all that trouble if it was just . . .’

‘Sin,’ said Dot. The euphemism was gladly accepted.

‘Yair, plenty of girls for sale if you want ’em,’ said Bert. ‘By
171

Queen of Flowers - Pages 16/3/04 4:38 PM Page 172

QUEEN OF THE FLOWERS

the look of all them notes, he was going to a lot of trouble to get Ruthie herself. Not Janey. Ruthie.’

‘Because he had a string,’ said James flatly. ‘That he could pull.’

‘I’ll pull his strings for him when I lay hands on him,’

said Bert.

‘What do we know?’ asked Robinson. ‘He says he’s this Rory McCrimmon and you say he can’t be.’

‘That’s right,’ affirmed James.

‘Then how does he know?’ asked Phryne. ‘Where did he get his information from?’

‘He might have been listening outside the window,’ said Dot. ‘Ooh, that’s a real nasty thought.’

‘He might,’ said Phryne. ‘He might have found out the name because the girls were talking about Ruth’s mother’s message. But how did he know which girl to target if he didn’t know the name?’

‘He might have known us back in the old days,’ said Jane.

‘He’d know that my parents were both dead. He might know old mother Andrews,’ she added, shuddering.

‘And there’s one person here who knew about Rory McCrimmon,’ said Robinson evenly. ‘You, Mr Murray.’

‘That’s true,’ said James slowly. ‘You have the right of it.

But it wasn’t me. I’d never hurt Ruth. And I never heard the name until last night. Not since fourteen years ago. When I was here with Rory and Neil.’

He sat up suddenly. ‘Oh, God in heaven,’ he whispered.

‘It cannot be him.’

‘Who cannot?’ demanded Phryne.

‘When I got off the ship and pitched my tent in that camp,’

said James very slowly, ‘I thought I saw a man I knew. He was not in the same camp ground as me, and I never saw him
172

Queen of Flowers - Pages 16/3/04 4:38 PM Page 173

KERRY GREENWOOD

again. But it would be like him,’ he added to himself. ‘It would be very like him, the sleekin’ weasel of a man that he was.’

‘James,’ threatened Phryne, grabbing his wrist.

Dot bit her knuckle to suppress a scream of tension, and Hugh Collins took the mistreated hand and squeezed it. In front of his commanding officer, too, he thought defiantly.

Jane held her breath. Phryne balled her fist.

‘Surely it is him,’ said James, seconds before Phryne knocked him cold. ‘Neil McLeod was a cold, weaselly man. He is probably here. He knew the whole tragedy of poor Rory Dubh and his Annie. He might even have known there was a child, though he never told me, the bastard. I know he’s been trading around, between here and Malaya. He never went back to Skye, where he would not have been welcome.’

‘All right. You saw him in another camp. Which one?’ asked Robinson.

‘The circus,’ said James. ‘I will find that Neil McLeod,’ he said almost under his breath. ‘And when I find him I will squeeze his neck until he tells me the truth.’

‘Good plan,’ said Phryne.

‘Me and Cec,’ suggested Bert, ‘might be able to help.’

Cec stretched out both huge hands and cracked all of the knuckles at his disposal. James looked at him in some awe.

‘Of course,’ said Phryne. ‘But don’t kill him. Even our well-disposed Detective Inspector can’t overlook murder. But a few bruises, a few broken bones . . .’

‘If they happened in the act of apprehending the felon,’ said Jack. ‘Such things do happen,’ he added. ‘Quite a lot. But we wait for a ransom message,’ he said.

‘Leave Ruthie with that mongrel?’ demanded Bert.

‘I want Ruth back as much as you do,’ said Robinson, defending his point. ‘But I also want to lock her kidnapper up
173

Queen of Flowers - Pages 16/3/04 4:38 PM Page 174

QUEEN OF THE FLOWERS

for life, and to do that I need some proof. Shouldn’t be too long. This bloke’s an expert at finding the right moment. He’ll leave us to stew for a day and a night, but not long enough for Miss Fisher here to go to the police. Look, I’ll make you a deal,’ he offered.

‘Yair?’ snarled Bert, who did not do deals with cops as a matter of principle.

‘Wait until the second post comes in. Ought to be about now. I’d put good money on the demand being in that delivery.’

‘Five bob,’ said Bert.

‘Done,’ said Robinson.

Time passed. Phryne went to visit Rose Weston. She was sleeping. Breath puffed through swollen lips. She looked like a prize fighter after the fiftieth bare-knuckle round. Lily Jackmann looked up from the magazine she was reading.

‘Best thing for her,’ she observed. ‘Her body’s taken a terrible battering. But she’s a healthy creature, she’s already healing well. A few days’ rest and she’ll be fine. Better that she sleeps through it.’

‘Have you everything you need?’ asked Phryne.

‘Oh yes, Miss Fisher, the patient and I are eating like kings.

Your Mrs Butler is a great cook. That was Jack Robinson I heard in the passageway, wasn’t it? Say hello from me and thank him for a nice quiet job.’

‘Has she said anything?’

‘She talks a lot in her sleep,’ said Lily. ‘Morphine does that.

But she doesn’t talk a lot to me. Of course, her mouth hurts.’

‘Write down what she says, would you? She’s a victim of a very serious assault.’

‘As you like,’ said Lily affably. ‘But I’d say,’ she added, ‘that someone tried quite hard to kill her.’

Phryne supplied Mrs Jackmann with a notebook and pencil
174

Queen of Flowers - Pages 16/3/04 4:38 PM Page 175

KERRY GREENWOOD

and was in the hall when the postman rattled the knocker.

With a superhuman effort, she went back into the parlour and waited until Mr Butler brought her the mail on a silver tray.

Household rituals must not be wantonly abandoned.

There were various letters and a small parcel. Phryne slit it open with her paper knife.

Out fell a string of clear purple glass beads. The note said

‘Fifty pounds in the left hand manger in the camels’ stable at noon and you shall have your Ruth again’. It was signed ‘Rory’.

‘The bastard,’ snarled Bert.

There was general agreement.

‘You owe me five bob,’ said Robinson.

Mr Rory McCrimmon to Miss Anna Ross

If it takes a thousand years I will wait for you.

175

Queen of Flowers - Pages 16/3/04 4:38 PM Page 176

CHAPTER TWELVE

All this it knows, but will not tell
To those that cannot question well
The Spirit that inhabits it

Percy B. Shelley

‘To a Lady, With a Guitar’

Over Robinson’s objections, Phryne drew five ten-pound notes out of her bank account and enclosed them in an envelope directed to Rory.

‘Just in case we need to buy her,’ she told the policeman.

‘She’d be cheap at fifty pounds. Now, are we clear about the plan? I go to the camel stable and put the money in the left hand manger. You gentlemen are going to lurk. I’ll just walk out of the stable and keep going. He’ll have to pick it up fairly quickly.’

‘Why?’asked James.

‘Because otherwise the camels will eat it,’ said Phryne.

‘They aren’t as omnivorous as goats but they generally feel that if it’s in their manger, then it’s food. You can’t be too
176

Queen of Flowers - Pages 16/3/04 4:38 PM Page 177

KERRY GREENWOOD

choosy if you live in a desert. Now remember, don’t kill him.

I want Ruth back and Jack Robinson wants the kidnapper in jail.’

‘Yair,’ muttered Bert, who felt that the man who had kidnapped Ruthie would look much, much better deceased.

‘We got it.’

‘Then off we go,’ said Phryne.

The circus drowsed. Noon was warm around the tents. Most people seemed to be taking a siesta before the matinée. Even the guard dogs were asleep, noses on paws. Lions slept in their cages. Elephants slept, ears flapped over their eyes to keep out the glare. Phryne walked through the circus without challenge and found the camel stall by remembering that camels and horses do not get on well. The other side of the camp from the horse pickets would have the camels.

The stable was a big tent, high enough for the long necked, and it was mercifully devoid of camels. Phryne had no utter objection to camels as a species but she could not like them. A creature whose only motive in life was to lure a human close enough to spit a pound of semi-digested grass in their eye had a certain Juvenalian frankness but was not comfortable company.

There were three mangers. Phryne assumed that the left hand one was judged from the viewpoint of someone facing into the building and slipped her envelope into the hay. Her followers went to ground.

‘Phryne, what on earth are you doing in here?’ someone asked from the door. It was Dulcie Fanshawe. Her hair was redder than before, and wet, and she was rubbing it with a stained towel.

‘Just wandering,’ said Phryne.

177

Queen of Flowers - Pages 16/3/04 4:38 PM Page 178

QUEEN OF THE FLOWERS

‘I looked out of my window and there you were,’ said Dulcie, clearly intending to stay. ‘I didn’t know that you liked camels.’

‘I don’t,’ said Phryne. ‘Come along, Dulcie, I’ll shout you a drink.’

‘I’m not fit to be seen,’ said Dulcie, sitting down on a bale of straw and showing alarming signs of settling down for the day. ‘But a nice chinwag would be good. The trouble with dyeing your hair is that you can’t stop dyeing it and this henna stains everything if you aren’t careful with it.’

Phryne was aware of Hugh, Bert, Cec and James Murray trying not to breathe from their assorted hiding places.

‘A cup of tea,’ said Phryne desperately. ‘No one in the circus is going to care what you look like. Come along, old dear,’ she said, taking Dulcie by the elbow and steering her out of the tent. ‘I don’t have leave to be in here, you know.

People are touchy about their camels.’ She led Dulcie out of the stable and let the flap fall behind them. ‘Your caravan, then?’

‘No,’ said Dulcie. ‘I need to sit in the sun until my hair dries. I’ll get Sam to go for a bottle for us, if you’ve got the gelt.’

‘Gelt I have,’ said Phryne.

Sam was a small, shrewd boy, clearly used to such errands.

Phryne sent him for a bottle of the good gin and a bottle of Indian tonic water and asked him to scrounge a couple of glasses.

Dulcie sat down on an overturned tub and spread her wet hair over her shoulders. They sat in silence until Sam should return. Phryne thought that Dulcie was looking older, more tired, despite the Jezebel courage of her hair. Then the boy came back with the doings. He left, suitably rewarded. Phryne made herself a drink, ear cocked for a disturbance in the camel stable.