think, that does. Will he live, Detective-inspector?’
Jack Robinson laughed grimly. Three o’clock in the morning was not his favourite hour, and he was not in the mood to mince words. ‘He’ll live to hang. Miss Fisher wasn’t trying to kill him, so she didn’t. He’s got the constitution of an ox.’
At that moment, the telephone rang. Mr Butler went to answer it. ‘Miss Henderson, Miss Fisher,’ he intoned. Phryne leaned on Dot’s arm and staggered out to the phone.
‘Hello, Eunice, what can I do for you?’
Phryne listened for a long moment; she thought that they might have been cut off. Then Eunice whispered, ‘You know who killed Mother, don’t you, Phryne?’
‘Yes, my dear, I know.’
‘I know too. It was Alastair, wasn’t it?’
‘Yes.’
‘I knew his back, you see. I saw that blond guard, and I didn’t recognise the face or the voice, but I knew his back. I’ve known all along, Phryne, and hoped it wasn’t true.’
‘Yes, Eunice.’
‘Have they caught him?’ The whisper was desperate.
‘Yes, they’ve caught him.’
‘Why?’
The voice was a wail. Phryne was too tired to think of a tactful reply, and talking hurt her throat.
‘Money.’
‘And Mother didn’t have anything to leave but this house,’ Eunice began to laugh. ‘I would have given him everything I had.’ There was a pause. ‘Well, that’s the end of that,’ she said sadly.
‘Eunice, have you no one to stay with you?’ urged Phryne.
‘No, dear, I don’t need anyone. I shall be all right. I am on my own now — no mother, no relatives, no lover. It might be a rather interesting experience. I won’t keep you in the hall on this cold night, Phryne. Thank you for everything.’
‘Goodnight,’ said Phryne, and Eunice hung up.
‘That was Eunice Henderson,’ she told her company. It seems that she suspected it was Alastair all along. Well, that’s the end of that, as Eunice says. Give me some more of that Irish coffee, Mr B., and then I think that we can all go to bed, again.’
‘You’ll be in touch, Miss Fisher? Have to make a statement about the capture of the felon,’ said Jack Robinson. ‘Nice work, Miss Fisher. We shall have to get you in the force, ha, ha.’
‘Ha, ha,’ agreed Phryne waspishly. ‘Is it proved by evidence, Jack? Have some of the coffee, it puts heart into you. Are you all right, Lindsay?’
‘Yes, I’m all right, just a little dazed by the pace of events.’
Phryne laughed. Jack Robinson accepted a cup of Irish coffee and said, ‘Yes, well, they found the old woman’s rings in his rooms. He escaped without leaving any traces, you know. He leapt down from the water tower onto the old woman’s body, and thence to the track; there weren’t no mud on him, so he didn’t leave a mark. Then he coiled up his rope, walked down the track to the next station, changed his clothes and dumped the guard’s uniform and the cap, peeled off his scar, and put on his own clothes again — he was carrying them all the time, in a knapsack like soldiers use. Relic of his climbing days, I assume. Then he took the train back to town. It was a good plot, though stagey. We might never have laid a hand on him if it weren’t for you, Miss Fisher. I hope that you are not too uncomfortable.’
‘Uncomfortable? No, not really, though I am going to be as stiff as a board tomorrow. Lindsay, my dear, you must have suspected him. You lived in the same house. He must have spouted all that guff about the superman to you.’
Lindsay woke up a little, blinking. ‘Oh, yes, he did, Phryne, but I never paid much attention to it, I mean, one’s friends often make asses of themselves, and it does not do to hold it against them. I thought that it was a phase he was going through — medical men are often odd, you know.’
‘Yes, I know.’
‘And what will happen to those two girls?’ asked Jack Robinson. ‘Shall I call in the Welfare?’
‘No!’ protested Phryne. ‘They will be fine with me. I shall send them both to school, and they shall go to university if they wish. They’re good girls,’ she added quietly. ‘Besides, Bert will kill me if anything happens to them. They will be fine. No need to worry about them.’
‘Then I won’t worry, and I will leave you,’ said the detective-inspector. ‘It’s late and the missus will be worrying. Good night, Miss Fisher. Sleep well,’ he added, with a wicked sidelong glance at Lindsay. Mr Butler saw him out and doused the outside light. Phryne Fisher was not at home to any more visitors tonight.
Dot assisted Phryne to her feet. She held out a bruised hand to the beautiful Lindsay.
‘Will you come and sleep with me?’ she asked softly.
Lindsay attempted to leap to his feet, emitted a sharp gasp, and allowed Dot to drag him out of the chair.
Dot conducted the two of them upstairs into Phryne’s boudoir, and put them to bed together neatly. She fetched an extra pillow for the young man and narrowly restrained herself from kissing his cheek as she tucked him in. Phryne was already asleep as soon as she lay down, and had embraced the young man, laying her head on his shoulder. He looked up at Dot, smiling drowsily.
‘Goodnight, Dot,’ he slurred, blind with fatigue, and this time Dot stooped and kissed him.
‘Sweet dreams,’ said Dot, extinguishing the light and closing the door.
She climbed her own stairs and found her own bed, but was not sleepy. She thought of the murder, the horrible transformation of the young man into a monster, and the tragic history of the two girls bedded down with their kitten in the guest-bedroom. All the while, as she looked out to sea from her uncurtained window, the lights that were ships moved unfalteringly across the invisible water as if drawn by threads. Dot sighed, took off her dressing-gown and climbed into her own narrow bed.
There must be a reason in it all, thought Dot, and fell asleep trying to think of one.
