thumping that indicated that Gerda was alive; she owed Gerda a favour. It had been she who had warned her of the Rose.
Phryne found some rope in the kitchen and looked out into the little yard. Seeing it in daylight, she shuddered to think that she had ever been near it.
‘A couple of cans of paraffin and a match would do that place a world of good,’ she muttered. She bolted the door, not wishing for any surprises from behind, and rejoined Sasha. Together they trussed Lydia Andrews as close as a Christmas turkey. Phryne recovered her tattered mantle and pulled it on.
‘I don’t understand it,’ murmured Lydia’s pale lips. ‘It was all going so well until you came along. .’
‘And you know the cream of the jest, don’t you?’ chuckled Phryne. ‘Your father sent me, to find out if your husband was poisoning you. I only got into this snow business because it killed Sasha’s mother. Well, now you’ve found your King of Snow, Sasha, the man you swore to kill — do you still want to?’
Sasha flinched. ‘She is a monstrous woman,’ he said slowly. ‘A daughter of a dog, a servant of the anti-Christ, but I do not want to kill her.’
‘We’ve got company,’ said Phryne, repossessing herself of the gun as the front window shattered, and Bert leapt in, followed by Cec and several policemen.
‘We should have known, Cec,’ he exclaimed, disgusted, as he came to a full stop out of Phryne’s line of fire. ‘Rescuing? She don’t want rescuing. Not though it don’t look like she’s had a time of it,’ he added, observing Phryne’s elegant figure, most of which was evident through the rents in her garments. ‘I’ve brung a few coppers along, Miss, and I’ve been delayed because the lame-brains wouldn’t believe me. They had to gather in your little chemist and his girl, and comb the stock before they were convinced. Cops? Don’t talk to me about cops.’
An embarrassed policeman came forward to handcuff Lydia. She moved passively, but turned in their grip to spit full in Sasha’s face.
‘Manners,’ said the policeman reprovingly. ‘I’ve got a message for you from the detective-inspector, Miss Fisher. He’s got all the samples and he’d like to see you as soon as may be. Perhaps when you’re dressed,’ he added, averting his eyes.
‘How did Dot get her message through?’ asked Phryne. The policeman grinned.
‘She rang the inspector and asked him to fetch it. Simple, eh? And we picked up a bloke as he tried to waylay your maid when she came out with the inspector. The hotel clerk pointed her out to him. Huge big bloke. Took four of us to bring him down. I’ll be taking this one in, Miss.’
‘Show me your warrant card, please,’ asked Phryne, who had never put down her pistol. The policeman obligingly exhibited a card that identified him as Detective-constable Malleson, and Phryne lowered the gun.
‘I have a suspicious mind,’ she confessed. ‘There is also Gerda. She put me on to Mrs Andrews. Unfortunately I had to stab her and I’ve tied her to her bed. You’ll need a stretcher.’
Detective-constable Malleson nodded, gave some orders, and, accompanied by three constables, carried Lydia out, loaded her into a van and watched it drive away. Phryne flung her arms around Bert’s neck and kissed him on the mouth.
‘We did it!’ she cried. ‘Quick, let’s find a pub and celebrate. No, better still, you shall all come to lunch with me.’
‘Er. . you goin’ to travel like that, Miss?’ asked Bert, smirking. Phryne pulled Sasha’s shirt on over her ruined undergarments and re-donned her mantle. She looked quite indescribable.
There was a burst of astounded German at the door, as Madame Breda, entering, encountered Gerda on her stretcher, leaving. Madame Breda’s healthy cheeks took on a cyclamen colour when she heard what Gerda called her.
‘No time to explain, Madame. Your establishment has been used for drug-dealing. Come to lunch and I’ll explain it all — or most of it. One o’clock, at the Windsor!’
Phryne spat out a stray feather and, embracing Sasha and Bert, danced down into the disreputable taxi, en route for the most exclusive hotel in Melbourne, dressed only in a shirt and a smile.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Wallace Stevens ‘The Bird with the Coppery Keen Claws’
The apparition of Miss Fisher, clad in rags, escorted up to the front door by a shirtless dancer and two grinning cab-drivers made a lasting impression on the doorman, who had previously been willing to bet that he had seen everything.
Dot was standing on the steps, weeping like a funeral, but the ebullient Miss Fisher kicked her bare legs in the air as she passed the doorman, and continued through the lobby and into the lift as though she did not present an appalling spectacle. The doorman’s world wavered on its axis.
Phryne embraced Dot in a close hug. ‘You did splendidly, Dot, splendidly — I’m proud of you. Now, order coffee for four, and find Sasha a shirt, for he must go home and fetch la Princesse and Elli. Yes, you must,’ she reproved, silencing Sasha with a kiss full on the mouth. ‘And I must have a bath, I’m putrid. At one o’clock, Sasha, in the luncheon-room. Ring down and order a table for ten, Dot. Come in, Bert, Cec — and excuse me.’
Phryne flew into the bathroom and planted herself under the showerbath. A puff of steam emerged and snatches of song could be heard. Dot handed Sasha a gentleman’s butcher-blue shirt which Phryne sometimes wore with a black skirt, and he left. Bert and Cec sat down gingerly in the midst of all this luxury and accepted coffee in small cups.
‘Is it all over?’ asked Dot in a small voice. Bert reached over and patted her soothingly.
‘Yair, the cocaine ring’s all smashed, and the leader’s in jail, as well as all the bad men. You can sleep safe in your bed tonight.’
Dot mopped her face and smiled for the first time in days.
‘Oh, the lunch table!’ she exclaimed, and rang up the
‘I reckon,’ he said, taking another cup of coffee, ‘that she wasn’t scared at all. She must have been in deep trouble in that bath house, but she was cool as a cucumber. What a girl!’
Cec nodded agreement. Dot considered that their lang- uage was rather free, but was too tired to resent it. She poured herself some coffee, drank it with a grimace, and went to find Phryne a robe, lest she forget her company and burst naked out of the bathroom.
Phryne, meanwhile, was revelling in the heat of the water and the speed at which eau-de-Little Lon. was being replaced with ‘Le Fruit Defendu’. She towelled her hair roughly and sat down in the bath to soak her hands and feet clean and remove the mud and dung from her numerous grazes. She hoped that she would not contract tetanus. She anointed them all with iodine, refusing to wince, and creamed her face with ‘Facial Youth’, a steal at a shilling a tube.
Dot entered with a robe as Phryne was examining her knees.
‘No Charleston for me for at least three weeks,’ she mourned. ‘But no worse than that. Thanks, Dot. Now, go put on your best dress. You’re coming to lunch, too. Yes, you are! And give Dr MacMillan, the nice Detective- inspector Robinson and WPC Jones a ring and ask them, too. Are Bert and Cec still here?’
‘Yes, Miss.’
‘Good. I owe them fifty quid.’
Phryne put on the robe, a sober one in dark shades of gold, went out, and sat down on the couch next to Bert.
‘I haven’t thanked you for rescuing me,’ she observed, lighting one of her own cigarettes with great delight. ‘How did you get there so promptly?’
‘It would have been sooner, and maybe have saved that friend of yours a few burns on his chest, but I couldn’t get the thick-headed coppers to listen to me. I had to near drag one out to the chemist’s in Little Lon. and buy him one of the powders. It numbed his tongue, all right, so he sent for the others, and they raided the chemist’s first, despite us saying that you were in the front building. It wasn’t until morning that we got it through their heads that we were serious. Still, we got there at last.’
‘So you did, and I am very grateful. Here’s the price we agreed on. We might work together again,’ said Phryne, and to her astonishment, Cec replied, ‘Too right.’ It was the first opinion she had heard him express, unprompted.
