Introducing the Honourable Phryne Fisher

Italian.

‘Will you allow me to order?’ asked Paolo. Phryne nodded, impressed with his manners.

Guiseppe concluded his address with a wide gesture, and bellowed an order into the kitchen. Paolo poured Phryne another glass of wine.

‘Why did you come to Australia, Paolo?’

‘Ah. I come from Firenze—Florence. You have been there?’ Phryne nodded again. The faun’s countenance was fascinating in the flickering light, and she privately congratulated Amelia on her luck, or judgement.

‘Then you know that it is a city filled with art. If one is in the least susceptible, then one must appreciate it. My father makes cement. I believe that it is good cement, and he has made a fortune out of it. I do not like cement, and I have no head for business. When he sent me out on errands, I was to be found gazing with awe at the great gates, or the Roman marbles, or the bronzes in the public squares. This did not please my father. He sent me to oversee the cement works. I could not command the workers, and in any case I discovered Carrara marble was also mined there. When he told me I would never see his face again until I stopped being an artist, ah, bella. I thought of all the faces I would create and all the beauty I would have to surrender. My father has not such a compelling countenance to enable me to renounce all the world’s beauties. So he cut me out of his will. He is, in any case, a peasant, and peasants do not appreciate art. My mother was from a minor aristocratic house. She gave me all her money and said, “Go forth, my son, and create beautiful things. Come and see me when your father is dead. But you must leave Italy.” I took half of the money and I was free in the world. Ah. Here is the good Guiseppe with the pasta. This you will enjoy, bella. It is as I ate it in the old country, but better. Here the ingredients are of the quality which one cannot afford in Italy.’

Guiseppe set down a dish of strange green noodles, mixed through with oil, olives, chicken livers, onions and mushrooms. It smelt delicious. Paolo ladled out a plateful then continued.

‘I then asked myself, where should I go? America? I did not like the Americans I had met. I wandered down to the docks in Marseilles, and sat down in a tavern to think. There I met some of the crew of an Australian ship. They were stokers and boiler-minders, and such faces! Such bodies! I speak from an artistic point of view, you understand, I have no sexual interest in men.’ He took several huge mouthfuls of the succulent pasta, and waved his fork for emphasis.

‘They asked me to sit down, and I shared several bottles with them. It enabled me to try out my English on a native speaker, but I could not understand them at first. The accent is very marked, you understand. The ship was leaving that night. They took me on as the keeper of a racehorse, whose stableman had been arrested by the police for an affray in a brothel. Marseilles is a very rough place. I have always been fond of horses, so I agreed to take care of “Dark Day” until we reached Australia. He was going on to New Zealand. A stallion. The struggles I had with him! A beast of great pride; but the spirit of a demon. Later his owner paid me three hundred pounds for the bronze I made of him. I found his cure, though.’

‘What was that?’

‘When he would rear and scream — so that I feared for his knees and even more for my life — I fed him honey-soaked oatmeal and brandy. He did not relish the taste at first, but after a while he would sidle over and try to seize the bottle from my hand. It would make him calm and happy again and lie down in his stall. Fortunately, horses do not suffer from the hangover. I got to Melbourne and left “Dark Day” with regret. He was sorry to part with me, too, but I instructed his new keeper about the brandy. He arrived safe in New Zealand and sired many children. I wandered around Melbourne until I found this place, and Guiseppe took me to his chest. He found me a studio and introduced me to many artists, and I have not had to touch my mother’s money. I am a good sculptor. And I like it here. The food is good and the climate is like Florence and the women are beautiful and complaisant. A reasonable man cannot ask for more. Then, more was given to me. Amelia was at a party given for the gallery students, and when I saw her I realised that here was the body I had been looking for all my life. She was a crushed little thing, and I could hardly get a word out of her. Even the brandy did not make her effusive, just sleepy and sad. It was not until I had laid siege to her for many months that she let me get closer. It was a heart-breaking thing when I finally discovered why she was not the virgin which her bearing and manner led me to expect.’ Paolo finished his pasta and gulped more wine.

‘Imagine forcing a child! Her father was a monster and I am profoundly glad that someone has seen fit to remove him from this world. It was not, however, me. I am going to marry Amelia and remove her from that house of sorrow, and she will grow fatter and happier and have many children. She loves children. I, also. I must show you the figures I did of her proteges. Scugnizzi, street-children, one and all, but the vitality of those undernourished bodies! And another thing. Have you seen her portraits?’

‘Yes,’ said Phryne, laying down her fork. ‘I just bought an armload of them.’

‘Then you must have seen, bella. You are a lady of taste and refinement. She has a great gift. She needs to do more work, her lines are still uncertain and her colour needs developing, but she can catch a likeness. Only one in three hundred students has that skill. She will be very good, when she gets away and comes to live with me.’

‘What about your family? You are a Roman Catholic, aren’t you?’

‘This is not an impediment. I have spoken to Father John. She will become a Catholic, and thus avoid eternal damnation, which she would not like. Then we shall be married in the Church. I, in turn, will renounce the delights of my models, once we are married. Thus it is fortunate for me that you came to me when you did, for I shall always remember you, bella.’

‘I will also remember you, Paolo, carissimo. Have you any idea who could have killed McNaughton?’

Paolo shrugged eloquently. ‘It could have been anyone. But I think it is Bill the brother. Him I do not admire. He is too much like his godforsaken father. I can see him hitting his father over the head with a rock; yes, certainly.

‘Otherwise, bella, the possibilities are endless. He tortured his wife, and she has a secret lover. I do not know anything about him, but I assure you there is one. I overheard her speaking to him on the telephone. “No, dearest,” she said. “It is too dangerous. He will kill you. There is no hope for us,” she sighed, and hung up the receiver. Her sigh would have broken your heart, bella. It seemed to contain all the sorrow of the world. Then she turned and saw me and begged me to say nothing. Naturally, I agreed.’

‘Did you tell Amelia?’

‘Of course not. She had enough to bear. But what a man, this McNaughton! Everyone hated him. His servants loathed him. He dismissed his driver recently, and beat him and kicked him into the road. He might have crept back and laid an ambush. In any case, carissima, it was a good deed and I hope that you do not find out who did it.’

‘I have to get Bill out of trouble, Paolo. Therefore I must find out who did it.’

‘It is a sad world,’ said Paolo portentously, ‘when one who does Australia a single service must suffer for it. Here is Guiseppe with the fish. You will like this, bella, it is a Neapolitan recipe. Did you say that you hope to get the brother Bill out of jail? Then perhaps I should take Amelia to my studio. He does not like me.’

‘You shall go and comfort Amelia. She needs you badly,’ stated Phryne, taking another glass of wine. ‘I shall deal with Bill. I promise that he will not say a word.’

Paolo took up her hand and kissed it.

The fish was highly spiced, and Phryne was feeling more than a little tipsy. She ordered strong black coffee and it came with a glass of cold water. She nibbled small almond biscuits and surveyed the room.

There was a shriek of recognition before Isola hurled herself across the cafe and threw herself into Phryne’s arms.

‘Carissima! It has been centuries. And Paolo, my dearest. How do you come to be here together? Aha! Paolo, you wicked goat, you have been seducing my friends again.’

Paolo grinned. ‘How could I resist, when all your friends are so like you?’

Isola slapped playfully at his cheek, and missed. Phryne, finding Isola something of an armful, deposited her on a chair brought by a waiter, who winked. Phryne should have guessed that Isola had captured Paolo. She had a supernatural talent for finding skilful lovers. Sometimes they came in odd shapes, but if they had been Isola’s choice