Kerry Greenwood - Urn Burial

‘I heard you. Now all you’ve got to do is hang on to your resolve and you’ll be on your farm in a matter of weeks.’

‘I owe it all to you.’ Miss Fletcher seized Phryne’s hand and shook it vigorously. Phryne retrieved her hand and counted the fingers. There seemed to be the usual number.

‘My pleasure.’ She swiftly interposed a plate of cream cakes between her and another embrace from a young woman with a grip like an ape.

‘Thanks. Gosh, I can’t imagine why I didn’t do that years ago. I’m sorry about carrying on with your Mr Lin, Miss Fisher. I was only doing it to score off Gerry, and I didn’t even want Gerry all that much. Golly, now I don’t have to play at being a girlie any more. It’s such a relief.’ Her healthy complexion radiated robust gratitude.

‘It would be. You’re a good rider, Miss Fletcher. I saw you set out today, looking for the Major. Did you find any clue?’

‘I caught his horse, trailing her reins, poor thing. Been ridden hard for a long way, poor creature could scarcely raise a trot. I had to tend her hoofs and walk her home. Mr Reynolds reckons that the Major must have gone into Buchan, though why I can’t imagine. Gosh, Miss Fisher, I feel so fit. I think I’ll take the hack out again and have a scout around.’

‘Do that, but be careful. And don’t go swimming.’

‘No, I won’t.’ Her face flamed. ‘I . . . was telling you the truth, you know. It didn’t seem to matter if I lived or died.’

‘But now you know that it does. Did you notice a stone tunnel in that little sandy bay on the river?’

‘Yes, it’s a drain or something. I didn’t go near it. Gosh, is that the famous secret passage? Weren’t you scared in the dark, Miss Fisher?’

‘Not really. Now, you can get on with your life, Miss Fletcher. All you need to do is tell Gerry you won’t marry him, and ask him to come and speak to me. Then talk to some stock suppliers about your horses.’

‘I’ll do that. And I’ll send him to you.’ Miss Fletcher bolted her cake. ‘Doreen’s moved my things into a little room, that’s already done. You know, I’ve never slept alone in my whole life. First there was Nanny and then there was school and then there was Mother. It’ll be nice, being alone. I think I’ll like it.’

‘I think you will.’

Miss Medenham in an afternoon-tea gown of flaming scarlet and Mrs Luttrell in her usual mousy wool came to the table for more tea.

‘Miss Medenham, I have a question,’ said Phryne. The bold eyes lifted. Miss Medenham was amused and very pleased with herself.

‘If it is, ‘‘What did you do with the Major?’’ I can’t answer. I didn’t do anything with him.’

‘You were close to him last night,’ said Phryne delicately. ‘Did he say anything about where he might have gone?’

‘No, our conversation didn’t touch on that. I suggested the Devil, but that might be farther than he could ride in one morning.’

Phryne turned to her companion. ‘Mrs Luttrell?’ The older woman cringed a little, out of habit, then straightened.

‘He didn’t come to me all night,’ she said softly. ‘I can’t imagine where he is.’

But his absence is a great relief to you, as well it might be, Phryne thought. Something about the attitude of the two women, the way they were standing, indicated that an alliance had been forged. She occupied a few moments pleasurably, wondering what Miss Medenham had done to the Major. He seemed to have left the house under his own steam, so she hadn’t actually crowned him with the fire irons. But that still left a broad scope for a woman of strong convictions.

Miss Medenham and Mrs Luttrell passed on through the crowd towards Doctor Franklin, who was talking to Tadeusz about hysteria.

Phryne accepted another cup of tea from Mrs Reynolds, who said worriedly, ‘Two people missing and still those notes and things are unsolved. Have you got anywhere with them, Phryne?’

‘Certainly. You will not receive any more notes. They were written on your own paper, you know.

It’s the same as the paper in the office.’

‘Will you tell me who was doing all these things?’

‘Possibly. If you need to know. But the note-writer is not the murderer. And that will all be over. There is no threat to Tom, now. We just have to find Lina and the Major.’

‘If you say so, Phryne.’ The faded eyes looked into Phryne’s.

‘But you should prepare yourself for a shock,’ said Phryne.

‘Me?’

‘Yes. I can only apologise in advance.’

Evelyn Reynolds searched Phryne’s face for a clue as to what she meant. She seemed to have found something, for she looked sad. She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again, nodding. Phryne held out a hand to the angelic Gerald, and Mrs Reynolds continued amongst the house party, dispensing tea.

‘Well, Gerald?’

‘Well, divine one?’ He sat down on the floor at her feet and she caressed the curly hair as though he was a puppy. Jack Lucas, across the ornate parlour, scowled.

‘So Judith won’t marry you?’

‘And that’s a relief to us all. I suppose you wouldn’t hear an honourable proposal? You should make an honest man out of me, you know.’

‘You didn’t need to sleep with me,’ she said lightly, ‘in order to enlist me. If you continue to do that every time you need a favour, then your lover is not going to be pleased.’

The whole body stiffened in shock. For a moment the brown eyes were blank with horror, then calculation took over.

‘How could I have resisted you?’ he asked, preposterously long eyelashes flicking down to the perfect cheek.

‘Quite easily,’ she said. ‘It’s all right, Gerald. I think I’ve fixed it. I have had a long talk with Tom Reynolds and although he won’t give Jack any money . . .’ the soft mouth firmed into a thin line and Phryne lay one finger to his red lips, ‘he’ll give him something else of great value, which will be worth more than cash. I can’t tell you any more until all this commotion with Lina and the Major is over, but I promise, on my honour, if Jack does not appreciate his legacy I will buy it from him and he will be able to live on the proceeds until he dies of old age.’

He scanned her face, made a decision, and said, ‘I never meant you to be hurt, divine one.’

‘I know you didn’t. But you could have killed Tom and that wouldn’t have been kind. I traced the ink and the paper on some of those notes, though not all.’

‘I wanted the money for Jack and I thought . . .’

‘I know what you thought. Unfortunately your method was appropriated by someone else. By the way, have you been leaving urns all over the place?’

‘No.’

‘Good. I think someone’s trying to help me, but so far I haven’t worked out what they’re trying to tell me. No more tricks, Gerry. I want your assurance, I want your word. It’s all getting too dangerous.’

‘I promise.’ He wet his finger and traced a cross on his blazer. ‘What . . . what do you know about me, Miss Fisher?’

‘I was in the boathouse,’ she said gently.

All the living colour ebbed from Gerald’s face, leaving him as pale as a porcelain faun. Phryne stroked his cheek. ‘I was lying in a punt with Lin. I’m telling you, Gerry, your secret is safe with me and I will fix it. Now I need you to tell me exactly which of the tricks you played.’

‘Three notes and the wire which brought Cuba down,’ he muttered.

‘Nothing more? You didn’t saw through the axle? You sent no note to Lina? You were not out in the fog on the night she was attacked?’

‘No. I was out, all right, but talking to . . . the person you know of. Phryne, that time in the boathouse, that was the first time that we . . .’