Chapter Text
A young woman tends to her loved garden, reaching towards her rose bush. She turns, and her tranquility soon turns to raging anger. "Why are you here?" She demanded in a hiss.
There was no answer but for the sharp movement of a blade straight through her heart. She gasped as she fell back, thorns finding their way into her skin, becoming one with her beloved rose bush, white petals stained with red.
*Cue intro music *
Dot bursted into South City Police Station, and Collins looked up from his station with a slight bit of hope which dimmed slightly as he saw Dorothy. "Dottie," he greeted, trying to stay quiet lest Jack bite his head off (again) for letting Dottie spend way too much time at their police station.
And really, it wasn't that Jack was angry that Dot was there. No, the three of them knew that he was upset over the fact Miss Fisher wasn't waltzing in right along with her. But for whatever reason, Jack was prone to denying the fact.
"Has he sent the letter?" Dot demanded, keeping her voice low also.
Collins glanced at the door. No Inspector in sight. "I'm not sure, Dottie. I did see him staring at it a few days ago... but I can't be certain that he sent it."
Dot let out a wistful sigh, dropping her gaze to wring her handkerchief. "That's too bad. I've written to Miss Fisher, asking when she'd be back, but no reply yet. I'd hoped that the Inspector would help persuade her, but how was I to know that he'd need persuading also?" She stopped twisting the tortured cloth, trying to sort out the wrinkles that she knew could only be done so by an iron.
"And here the two of you are, chattering away about something that still doesn't concern either of you," a deep voice grumbles from the doorway.
Dot stiffened before jutting out her chin, a habit picked up from watching Miss Fisher one would suppose, and looking Jack straight in the eyes.
Hugh had jumped in surprise, before turning slowly to face his superior. "Sir," he greeted reluctantly.
Jack shook his head. "Get back to work, Constable. And as for you, Mrs. Collins, I'll accompany you to the door."
He stepped forward, opening the front door and gesturing to it.
"You better have sent the letter to Miss Fisher," Dot said instead of following him, remaining firmly in front of Hugh.
"Dottie, please," Hugh murmured. "Let's not upset him any further."
"That," Jack replied, unaware of Collins' words, "is none of your business, Mrs. Collins."
"She will forever be my business, Sir, if you don't mind me saying."
"I do."
Dot gapes for a few moments before starting at the sudden shrill of the ringing telephone.
Collins picked up the telephone swiftly. "Constable Collins at South City Police Station. How may I help you?" He hung up, addressing Jack. "There's been a murder, Sir."
Jack blinked twice, somewhat surprised. After Phryne had left, it was rare to get a murder case.
"Bring 'round the car," he ordered, feeling his heart pumping as if he had just come alive slightly ever since Phryne left.
Collins must have noticed the slight change in Jack's attitude. "Yes Sir!" He ran out.
"Don't suppose you'll let me come along?" Dot teased.
Jack crossed the room quickly, grabbing his hat and jacket. "I don't believe that'll work too well."
Dot only smiled. "I know and I agree. But, Inspector, you did send the letter, didn't you?"
And Jack waited for a moment, stunned by how intuitive Dot could be. "Yeah," he finally admits, "I did."
And Dot let out a triumphant smile. "Excellent! Best of luck on the case. I'll telephone Doctor Mac and let her know to prepare for an autopsy."
"Thanks, Dot."
Dot smiled widely and gave a firm nod. "See you, Inspector."
"Until later, Mrs. Collins."
Phryne had fearlessly braved the flight across the ocean once again, [crash] landing [elegantly, she'd swear by it] in a field. Hopping out of the plane and leaving the field with an exuberant pep in her step, she arrived at the main road and followed it to the nearest town. As Phryne does, she nearly waltzed into the nearest building which just so happened to be a tavern inn. "May I use your telephone?" She had asked the woman behind the front desk.
The woman looked up from her papers. "Of course. Who shall I telephone?"
Ces and Bert didn't take too long to arrive, bright grins on each face. "Miss Fisher! You've come back!"
Phryne smirked. "That's right. Mind giving me a lift back to the house?"
"Get in the car," Bert said, and Ces got out of the car to open the door for Phryne.
"Thank you! Oh! And, first, where might I be able to buy a bouquet?"
"No worries, Miss, we've just the place."
Trouble certainly seemed to follow Phryne. Well, ask anyone around her, and they'd certainly say that she was the trouble.
And yet, always, Phryne felt a slight bit of surprise.
Ces and Bert certainly never wasted time on the road. Before long, the cab pulled up in front of a flower shop Phryne was somewhat acquainted with before she left. The arrangements were pleasant, and she knew that Guy had ordered a few arrangements for his [dreadful] engagement party.
A flower shop closed, though it should have been opened by this time of day. Phryne felt a bit of surprise. She ordered Ces and Bert to stay close since she’d be going home next.
The differrence from Phryne's last visit was the telltale police car that pulled up at the same time Ces and Bert did. Phryne dismounted from the car, slightly smirking. "Jack!" She called.
Jack, who had also just dismounted from the police car, stiffened at her voice and turned around, wide-eyed. "Phryne?" His voice left his body somewhat strangled.
"Jack," Phryne greeted again, softer this time, almost intimate. But then she took in the sight. A body was within the rose bushes, and Phryne understood instinctively that she was looking at a murder scene. She bustled over. "Oh, so that's why you're here. And here I thought you'd be buying flowers."
"And for whom, pray tell, would you think I'd be buying flowers for?"
"Ah, that's the question I'd hoped you'd be answering."
"Perhaps another time, Miss Fisher. The victim was found dead this morning, in the rose bushes just like this. A young woman by the name of Felicia Stern called. She's the assistant. This woman by the name of Amelia Turret was the owner of Turret’s Flower Shop."
Phryne ignored the fact Jack cut their banter short. There was a murder to solve anyway. "I knew Miss Turret, well, shortly. And that was before I left. Where is Miss Stern?"
"How did you say that you knew Miss Turret again?"
Phryne clicked her tongue. "Guy's engagement party. She arranged the flowers. Now, where is Miss Stern?"
"Ah," Jack replied knowingly. "Miss Stern is in the back; said being up here was affecting her too much. Collins is questioning her."
"Oh, please Jack. Her employer and friend is dead . Of course she's affected." Phryne bent down to poke around the body. The death seemed to be caused by the stab wound, no other abnormalities found on the body. The only thing that Phryne found was a small tan line on the fourth finger of the woman's left hand.
"Hmmm," Phryne uttered. "Seems she had an engagement ring. But there was no ring there. Either the engagement had gotten cut off rather recently or..."
Jack finished the thought for her. "Or the murderer took the engagement ring with them, indicating an emotional tie to it."
"Exactly."
Phryne stood up again, and smoothed down her clothing, turning to smirk at Jack. “How is it that you can read my mind?”
Jack shakes his head, fondly, at a loss for a response.
Phryne turned, focused on making her way to the backside of the building. Before making it all the way past the front door, she stopped.
Jack followed two steps behind, stopping when Phryne did.
"Well, would you look at that," She murmured, crouching down to pick up a ring. A golden ring with an inlaid diamond.
"A wedding ring," Inspector Jack Robinson stated the obvious.
Phryne fished out her handkerchief and wrapped the ring, putting the parcel into her pocket. "Nearly. I'd expect you'd have more experience with it than I. But, given that it's a small diamond, I'd gather it's an engagement ring."
"Ah," Jack murmured in agreement.
She continued to where the woman was being questioned by Collins. "Hello, Miss Stern!" Phryne greeted.
The woman returned the greeting. "Hello, Miss...?"
"Fisher. Phryne Fisher. And please, call me Phryne." She dug into her bag, pulling out one of her business cards. "Former Lady Detective. But I'd be willing to open for business again."
"Felicia is fine. And," as she took the card, she gave a firm nod, "thank you."
Jack watched the exchange, hit by nostalgia. Just a little bit ago, this was the norm. And then Phryne had just up and left. She'd promised to come back, but even though Jack would trust Phryne with his life, his heart, his soul, he couldn't quite trust that she would truly ever really come back. She had ties to Melbourne, so of course she'd return... at least to visit. But would she and could she return to stay?
What if she had found other... “ friends” in England?
Phryne glanced at Jack, taken aback by him not making any quips at her expense, only to find a somewhat cryptic look on his face. Who knew what he was thinking... although....
Looking at Miss Stern once again, she looked rather prim, as a proper lady probably should. Brown locks neatly curled and pinned back, wearing a neat dress suit. She reminded Phryne of Jack's ex-wife, Rosie. And of the woman from the Italian restaurant... What was her name? Ah, yes... Camilla. Passionate women who would give all for love, so they seemed while Phryne met them.
Passionate in a way Phryne could not afford to be until very very recently. And even then, the four-lettered "L" word scared her.
Phryne turned back to the matter at hand. Thinking too much about her and Jack's predicament was a headache for another day, or rather night, which could be accompanied by a good tonic.
"Was Miss Turret engaged?" Phryne asked, leaning forward.
"Pardon?"
"There was a clear tan line on the ring finger of her left hand. Was she engaged?"
Felicia nodded. "Yes, only recently."
"How recently?"
"A few weeks ago."
"Do you know to whom?"
"Yes, yes I do know..." Felicia trailed off, glancing down to her hands.
"To whom?" Phryne prodded.
"Oh! Yes, to Eddie- I mean Edward Rowe."
Phryne raised her eyebrows at the name slip. "Eddie?"
"Yes, Eddie. I knew him too. He's a... friend, I'd say. And Amelia always called him 'Eddie.' It just ended up catching on."
"I see," Jack said, leaning back slightly, letting his shoulders relax. "That's all for questioning. You may return home. As this is the scene of a crime, I believe it best to keep the shop closed today."
She nodded. "Yes. Yes, indeed, that would be much better."
"As for Edward Rowe, don't worry about breaking the news to him," Phryne added. "We will do so. Where might we find him?"
"He's a lawyer, working at Rowe and James Law Firm. He's there everyday, I don't see why today would be any different."
"Thank you," Jack said. "Collins, please take Miss Stern back to her residence."
"Yes Sir."
"She's hiding something," Phryne said as she watched Felicia and Hugh leave, waiting until they were far enough so that they wouldn't be able to hear her.
Jack turned to face Phryne better, staying quiet so that she could immediately jump into her analysis.
"She used the fiancé's nickname, which is rather strange. If he went by a nickname then she wouldn't have bothered to correct herself."
"Yes, you're right. Perhaps we can find out more after speaking with Mr. Rowe."
Phryne and Jack arrived at the law firm, a dull brick building that held the name of the company within the window. Jack allowed Phryne to charge right in. The blonde woman sitting at the front desk looked up from her paperwork, lifting an eyebrow. “Do you have an appointment?”
“Inspector Jack Robinson,” Jack said, reaching into his pocket to pull out, then flash, his badge.
The woman gaped.
“We need to speak with a man by the name of Edward Rowe. Is he in at the moment?” Phryne continued.
“Yes,” the woman responded. “He should be in his office, down the hall to the left.’
“Thank you.” Phryne said before promptly continuing on. The hallway was, surprisingly, actually decorated. Along the halls, there were many photographs. Some of them starred two men by themselves, the same two men with different clients one would suppose, and then a few group photos with those two men. Phryne stopped at one of the photo frames just a mere meter from Rowe’s door.
“Jack,” she whispers, pointing at a specific section of the photograph.
Jack leans in, trying his best not to get too close and bump into her. Still, Phryne felt the heat of his body lingering on hers, and tried her best to stay a hundred percent focused. Jack focused too, looking at the region she was pointing towards. In the photograph, one of the two men posed, his arm around Felicia Stern. And to the other side of Felicia Stern stood Amelia Turret.
“Perhaps the business partner?” Jack offered.
Phryne turned, pausing only slightly when realizing how close their bodies were to each other. She offered a small smile. “Shall we find out?”
Jack stepped back and allowed Phryne to take the lead once again. Gratefully, she took it, and led them into the office.
“Please!” A voice came a voice behind a big desk. “Knock next time Miss Tart.”
“Sorry that we didn’t knock,” Phryne said, “But this is rather drastic, I must admit.”
The man behind the desk straightened, and then pushed back his chair to stand up and make his way over to the pair. “Oh, hello. I must apologize. I thought you were the secretary.”
The man was tall and lanky, blonde, and wore spectacles. His grey suit was plain but well-tailored, in fact, most likely tailored by the best shop in Melbourne. And he was most certainly the man in the photograph that had had his arm around Miss Felicia Stern. How intriguing.
“Mr. Rowe, we are here to inform you that your finance, Miss Amelia Turret, was found dead this morning at her flower shop.” Jack said, not wanting to waste a single moment longer.
Edward gaped for a few moments before sinking back into his chair. It was a good thing that he hadn’t completed walking across the room to properly greet his guests. His grief seemed quite genuine.
“Where were you last night?” Phryne asked, a bit gently.
Edward startled. “Where was I last night? Wait, you don’t mean to tell me… My Ameleia was…?” He sucked in a gasp, and shook his head. “No.You’re not telling me that she was murdered , are you?”
“Unfortunately, it seemed that Miss Turret was stabbed to death last night. That leads us to our question. Where were you last night, Mr. Rowe?”
His grief morphed into anger rapidly. “No. It was not me. If you need someone to blame, then look at her minx of an assistant. I know you need an alibi. I was here, all night long, and my business partner can tell you that it’s the truth. We both worked on the case all night.”
“But your suit is fresh,” Phryne pointed out.
“Yes, because I drove home early this morning to change and look proper before returning.”
“Thank you for answering our questions, Mr. Rowe,” Jack said, giving Phryne a slight glance which sufficed in telling her they had gotten enough information for now. She frowned, but he (for once) was a step ahead. “Now, would you please elaborate why just a moment ago you told us Miss Stern was more likely to have committed murder?”
Edward’s skin took on a reddish hue. “I’m sorry, I was just upset. However, the thing is that I haven’t been engaged to Amelia very long… or rather, hadn’t , I guess.” He choked up slightly at that.
Phryne narrowed her eyes. “Did Miss Stern fancy you?”
“Yes.” Edward responded plainly. “In fact, she was actually my fiance before Amelia was. She was furious when I told her about Amelia, when she saw the wedding ring. And she told me we’d pay.”
"Thank you Mr. Rowe," Jack finished up the conversation, all for the better since now Phryne's mind was zipping on overtime. "We might need you for additional questioning at the police station later just in case."
"Of course."
Jack led this time outside of the building to the police car.
As they were walking, Phryne began to speak. "So the man in the photograph did turn out to be our Mr. Rowe. Not only was he engaged to the victim, but he had also been priorly engaged to the victim’s assistant. The easy thing would be to assume that the assistant did it, a murder of passion.”
“Yet,” Jack murmured, “That doesn’t quite feel right.”
“Exactly,” Phryne agreed. “Both seem quite stricken with the fact that she’s gone. But I must say, Jack, now it makes sense why Miss Felicia Stern had called Edward Rowe by a nickname. Their status as fiancees made them close. The question arises: why does she still call him that? Surely Amelia Turret would have been furious, insisting that she stop calling him ‘Eddie.’ “
“It is rather odd,” Jack allowed. “But sometimes habits are hard to change.” His tone fell away to a slight bitterness, like tea taken without any sugar.
Phryne frowned, feeling as if the conversation was not just about Rowe, Turret, and Stern anymore. “Not if one works hard at deliberately changing it.”
Jack glanced away, and the action stung Phryne more than she would have liked to admit. “...Perhaps.”
Dorothy had spent her days missing Phryne quite a bit. Marrying Hugh had been wonderful, of course, but… well, there was always a level of excitement with Miss Fisher.
Returning to housework after working as Miss Fisher’s companion was, well, rather lackluster.
Dot folded the laundry as she read a passage from her old Bible, the one thing that comforted her no matter what she was doing or going through, when she heard a knock at the door. She stood up and opened the door to find Phryne Fisher on her doorstep.
“Miss!” Dot yelled and flung her arms around Phryne.
Phryne laughed and returned the hug. “Hello, Dot. I’ve returned.”
Dot had Phryne sit down in the kitchen as she prepared a cup of tea. She demanded to hear everything about how Phryne’s trip back to England had been. “Dull,” Phryne had said, leaving it at that. Truly, she had flown there simply to drop off her father and had remained there for much longer than expected.
And then Phryne dropped it on her. “Dot, I’m sure you’ve heard that there was a murder. At Turrett’s Flower Shop.”
Dot ran her finger over the handle of her teacup. “Yes, I’d heard.”
“Okay. I need a way to continue business with that shop. Miss Stern will continue to run it. I need an excuse for flower arrangements. Many flower arrangements. So, Dot, would you do me a favor?”
Dot tilted her head. “What is it, Miss?”
“Remarry Hugh.”
Dot let out a nervous laugh. "What?"
"Remarry Hugh! Have a large wedding. I'll pay for it."
"Miss. No. That's too much!"
Phryne insisted. "It'd be doing me a favor. Please?"
“Miss, I’d have to speak with Hugh.”
Phryne nodded. “Of course.” She took a long sip of tea.
“Miss?” Dotty said rather tentatively. At this point she stopped touching her teacup, leaning back away from the table.
Phryne set her teacup down, and let the tea wash down before answering. “What is it, Dot?”
“Our parents still don’t get along,” Dot admitted, releasing a long breath from her nose.
Phryne knew that their parents getting along meant the world to her dear companion and her fia-husband, though Phryne couldn’t quite relate at all. Her own parents didn’t mind much of her dalliances at all as long as it didn’t muddy their name [too much]. “Even now that the two of you are married?”
Dot crossed her hands, and placed them on the table. “Yes, even now.”
Phryne realized where Dot was going with this. “You’re worried it’ll be even worse with a remarriage.”
“Yes.”
“But what if it instead brings them closer?”
Dot laughed, and Phryne could relate. Though Phryne wasn’t pessimistic, she wasn’t necessarily optimistic either and right now she was acting as such.
"Dottie, I'm home!" Hugh called from the door. He came into the kitchen and froze. "Miss Fi-Fisher."
"Why hello Hugh."
"Wha-Why?"
"You and Dot should get remarried. I'll have the two of you talk about it. I'll see you two in the morning at my residence." Phryne stood up and grabbed her purse.
Dot agreed and walked her to the door. Poor Hugh was planting in his place, abruptly struck by the storm that is Phryne Fisher, and not entirely sure how to process the order[?] she had given him.
Hugh and Dot stood in Phryne's parlor. They had agreed, and then the wedding discussions began. The three climbed into the España-Swiss and drove to Turrett’s Flower Shop. [Hugh sitting in the backseat and looking absolutely green once they arrived.]
Felicia Stern went about opening the business as per usual as Phryne walks into the shop. She was surprised to see Phryne. Phryne smiled and approached her. "We're planning a wedding, and we'll need quite a few floral arrangements."
Felicia perked up. "Oh, I would be delighted to help. I'm glad you're here, Mi-Phryne. The business has been… slow since yesterday."
Phryne nodded, face serious. “I imagine business will pick up again. After all, you are one of Melbourne’s finest flower shops.”
“I’d argue that we’re the best. The only rivalry we have is Earnest’s, which is ridiculous, especially since they’re much newer.”
"Earnest's… I have heard of that one."
"Yes. They started when Miss Turret ended up inheriting the business. About five years ago."
"That is quite fast indeed. Say, do you know who the owner is?"
Felicia bit her bottom lip. "Amelia didn't like talking about it. But.. well, it was Ernest Turret that started Earnest’s, Amelia's older brother."
" Older brother?" Dot asked before Phryne could.
"Exactly. You see, I was merely here as an assistant to Amelia. But he was angry. He always has been. And I don't think he expected that I would have half ownership of the shop."
"So Mr. Turret was under the impression that if his sister was to die, he would inherit the shop?"
"Correct," Felicia affirmed Phryne's understanding.
"And now you own the shop?" Dot asked.
"That's right."
Phryne glanced at Dot before looking back toward Felicia. "Did you know?"
"No. I was told this morning. Now, surely you weren't here just to ask questions. How can I help you?"
Dot smiled widely, taking a step forward without even a Cue from Phryne. "I'm getting married. And I want lots of flowers at the wedding. Miss Fisher directed me to this shop "
"Oh that's lovely! Congratulations. Here…"
Somehow Dot convinced Felicia to let her into the inventory so that she could thoroughly see all the colors and types of flowers as well as what could potentially be ordered. Phryne, as Dot distracted, did a bit of snooping around the shop.
She looked through the register. Nothing too out of the blue. Then her eye was drawn to a shiny piece of fabric crouching down, she finds a purse just under the teller's counter. She pulls it out, determining after a moment that the pink matched that of the corpse’s dress. This bag was Miss Turret’s, on the day of the murder.
Phryne dumps the bag into the España-Swiss, quickly, before the group goes back to the main area of the flower shop. Phryne barely enters the shop again when they do, and Felicia looks quite befuddled. Phryne allows for a light laugh. “It seems I had forgotten my bag in the car,” she gestures towards her clutch.
“I see,” Felicia responds with a small polite smile. "Quite a lovely bag."
"Thank you."
"The bride and groom can continue choosing flowers at a later date. It seems they still have much to discuss."
"Ah," Phryne said. "I can't blame them wanting it to be absolutely perfect."
"Of course not. A wedding is one of the most important things to happen in one's life."
Phryne's smile tightened to the point Dot felt it would snap at any moment. "I imagine so," she replied cordially before changing the subject. "I'll buy a bouquet right now."
"With what type of flowers?"
"White tulips and red roses."
Felicia paused. "Are you certain?"
"Definitely."
"Miss, what are the flowers for?" Dot asked.
"Don't trouble yourself over them. Now, Dot, at what time did you say Mac was meeting with Jack?"
"At half past noon, Miss."
"Then after we finish here we'd better head right on over."
They beat Jack by a while due to Phryne's… fantastic driving. Dot barely felt the need to hold onto her hat this time around meanwhile Hugh did his best not to turn green. Phryne parked and marched to Mac's office.
Mac glances up from her desk as Phryne walks confidently in, and grins. "Should have known you'd be back. Let me guess. Dot told you about the autopsy?"
"That's right."
A knock came at the door. "Perfect timing." Phryne opens the door and Jack blinks twice before nodding at Mac then at Phryne. "Good day, Dr. MacMillan. Miss Fisher."
"Shall we get this autopsy report started?"
Jack turned, walking out and stepping to the side. Jack and Phryne followed Mac to the autopsy room.
Mac grabs the clipboard and allows Phryne to lift the sheet covering the cadaver. "Cause of death: stabbed to death. Stab wound could potentially be caused by a kitchen knife. Time of death: early morning, I'd say around 5 am. She fell into the rose bush so she has multiple scratches due to that."
"Thank you, Mac," Phryne says and begins to further examine the body. It was all as Mac said.
Mac glanced first at Phryne then at Jack. "Oh, would you look at the time. I think one of the… uh… doctors will need my help. Soon. Probably. I'll leave you both to it."
And then Mac left.
Jack watched as Phryne went through the clipboard Mac left, comforted by how familiar the sight was.
"Ah, Jack. I suggested remarriage to Hugh and Dottie."
"What?" Jack snaps, pretty concerned.
Phryne looks at him quizzically before realizing what it may have sounded like. "Oh, I meant formally marry each other. Again. But with their family and friends and everybody this time. Wouldn't that be grand?"
"Have they agreed to your little plot? This is primarily to keep tabs on the Flower Shop, correct?"
"Astute as always, Jack," Phryne smiled widely as she complimented him. "And yes, they've agreed. It's a business venture on my end and they've agreed to it."
“I never cease to be amazed by you, Miss Fisher.” He said so quietly, to the point where Phryne almost missed it.
Phryne bit the bottom of her lip. “Jack, please. It's Phryne. Especially because you aren't just 'Inspector' to me. Not anymore."
Jack freezes, cheeks turning as pink as Turret’s roses. He glanced away for a mere second before schooling his face back into nonchalance. "Perhaps that's an issue in of itself."
"An issue?" Phryne repeated, voice slightly raised.
"Oh, no. I didn't mean it like that. I-Look, Phryne. The last time we saw each other, we.
. I…'
"We kissed! So what Jack? Have your feet chilled? Do you regret it?" Phryne's eyes flashed. For once she had wanted a kiss to mean more than solely passion. And now the man was regretting…
"No!" His voice raised. "No. That's not it. We kissed, and now I’m scared. You won’t feel the same way I feel about you. Not now, perhaps not ever.” He tried to control his emotions, to keep his voice down. But there was intensity and passion underneath his words.
“Since when did you get to decide how I feel, Jack?” Phryne asked, voice lowered. She was hurt.
Jack shook his head. He was convinced. Phryne had dined with the world’s greatest. She had a myriad of men who would be lining up around the block for an opportunity to spend a mere moment with her. Jack had once pitied the fools. Now, he was the greater one.
Phryne's lips pulled into a tight smile. Jack recognized it as the Prudence-dinner-soiree-polite-smile that was in no way genuine. "I believe that's all we needed to see of the body. Let's stop by the car. I found something at the flower shop.”
Jack nods, throat feeling strangely constricted in a way that forced him to remain silent.
Phryne leads the way to the España-Swiss.
“Collins,” Jack greets. “And Mrs. Collins.”
Dot waved politely. “Sir!” Hugh greets.
Phryne takes out the bag she had found at the flower shop. “This matched the outfit Miss Turret wore as she was murdered. This must be the purse she used that day. It was hidden in her shop. And,” she opened it. “Look.” Phryne pulled out a wad of cash. “Et voilà.”
Dot frowned, deep in thought. She vocalized them moments later. “A flower shop wouldn’t need quite so much money to go to the store of whatnot.”
“Exactly. So how else was she getting the money/ The answer might be found here.” Phryne takes her hat pin and delicately moves some of the fabric inside3 the purse revealing a secret pocket. Inside, was a notebook. Phryne takes it out [no worries, hands gloved as per usual] with a lopsided grin. Hugh and Dot glance at each other because the grin is mighty similar to Jack’s.
Hugh clears his throat. “What is it, Miss?”
Phryne flips through it. “A notebook filled with people and times. She was writing down her meetings.”
Jack stared at the wad of cash. “Perhaps we should take a better look at Turret’s Flowers. And perhaps we should take a look around Miss Turret’s house.”
Phryne stops at the last page of writing. “Jack, did you ever contact Miss Turret’s brother?”
“Not yet, why?”
Phryne turns the book to everyone else. In blue is written: Eloise Turret.
Phryne had not been able to dissuade Jack from driving himself nor was she able to keep Hugh from jumping out of the España-Swiss to join the Inspector. That left Dot and herself to park in front of the quaint house on record for the residence of Mr. and Mrs. Earnest Turret.
She only waited a few moments for the men to catch up. The group of four walked to the door and rapped. It was opened by a woman who offered a rather confused smile. “Hello. Can I help you?”
Phryne smiled her socialite smile. Big, beautiful. “Eloise Turret?”
“Yes, that would be I.”
“My name is Phryne Fisher. May my companions and I enter?”
Eloise nodded, opening the door further and taking a step back to allow the entrance of Dot, Hugh, Jack, and finally, Phryne. Eloise closes the door once they all stepped in. “You must forgive me, I wasn’t expecting guests.”
She rapidly walks to the parlor where she picks up a small booklet. “Please, feel free to take a seat, though. I’ll see if I can get some tea on.”
Jack opens his mouth, no doubt to tell the poor woman that it was fine if she didn’t, but Phryne sent him a glare strong enough to make him shut his mouth before a sound came out.
“Let me help,” Dot offered.
Eloise nods. “Okay. Thank you.”
They return shortly after carrying four tea cups. Eloise returns for her own as Dot sits down next to Hugh on the couch again. Jack has seated himself in the sofa next to it, and Phryne remains standing.
Jack clears his throat. “My name is Jack Robinson. I am the Head Inspector at South City Police,” he fishes out his badge, flashes it, then puts it into his pocket again. “I trust you’ve heard about your sister-in-law’s untimely death?”
Eloise’s hands tremble, and she put her teacup down before any of the tea spilled. “Oh. This visit was somewhat expected and yet completely unexpected. Yes, of course I’ve heard of it. Earnest told me he’d be totally busy the next few days because of it.”
Phryne decides to drop the information sooner rather than later. “Eloise, we got a hold of Miss Amelia Turret’s scheduling book. We know that you met with her the day she died. At what time did you meet her?”
Eloise straightened. “Yes. I suppose we did meet the day before yesterday. We arranged to meet at three o’clock. On the dot. She was late. This was noticeable because she rarely is."
"And why did you meet with Miss Turret?" Phryne asked, watching her body language intently.
Eloise Turret freezes for a few moments, her face wearing a practiced mask of nonchalance. “Given that we’re sisters-in-law, we get along rather well. We were meeting for tea.”
“I see. Did Amelia mention anything bothering her as of late? Any arguments that you can recall her having recently?” Jack asked before sipping his tea. He pauses, glancing glancing down at the cup before taking a longer sip.
Eloise shook her head. “Not exactly. She had this… this obsession with cordiality. She would never outright say if there were problems with other people because that wasn’t polite. I knew that she had quarrels with my husband, her brother. Nasty ones.” She took a pause to take a sip of her tea. Once the liquid passed by her throat, she spoke again. “Neither would talk about it. But I could hear them. I knew that things got messy with both Felicia Stern after the failed engagement on Felicia’s part.”
Phryne nodded, and Jack could tell that a couple thousand thoughts were running through her head. Jack set his cup down and gave a polite smile. “Thank you for your cooperation. We should probably take our leave now. And thank you for the tea, it was delightful.”
“Of course.”
The group left the house and for once, Phryne was silent. Instead, Dottie decided to speak up. “It’s strange that she mentioned her husband. Most would not. She also mentioned Miss Stern, which is what Mr. Rowe had mentioned.”
“She was fully honest with us. It seems that was common knowledge that the siblings didn’t get along,” Hugh said.
Jack frowned, slightly unsettled by the lack of Phryne in the conversation. “The brother who wanted to inherit the company. A woman left by her fiance only for him to get with her employer. What do you think, Phryne?”
She turned, eyes wide with a hint of surprise. He had used her first name. She cleared her throat before she responded, “I feel that we’re missing something. There’s a missing piece.”
“I agree.”
Dot and Hugh gave a look to each other. Of course Jack agreed with Phryne. He wouldn’t dare disagree.
“This is where we’ll part for now,” Phryne said to Jack. “Dot and I have some shopping that we should do,” Phryne said suddenly, making her way to her shiny red car.
Jack and Hugh followed the ladies. Phryne paused for a moment before getting into the driver’s seat. “One more thing,” she said, glancing at Jack. She pulled the bouquet out of her car, and handed it over. “This is for you.”
Jack looked down at the unusual bouquet: red roses and white tulips. I love you, I’m sorry . He stares at Phryne as she turned, sauntering to the driver’s side, entering flamboyantly. Jack had always been a romantic, enamored with Shakespeare, well versed in the language of flowers. So he knew what the white tulips meant, what the red roses meant. And he knew he had been wrong. Phryne did love him, or at least like him, in her own way.
The España-Swiss revs away, leaving Jack to stare at the bouquet.
“Don’t you regret not sending the letter now?” Hugh overstepped.
Jack was too tired to even pretend anymore. “I did. I had sent the letter. And she hasn't said anything about it.”