Queen of Flowers (9 page)

‘Girls?’ Both heads shook, both sets of plaits bounced. ‘Dot?’

‘No, Miss Phryne,’ said Dot, still half asleep.

Phryne addressed the woman on the steps. ‘Sorry, no Rose.

I haven’t seen her since we had lunch at Anatole’s. Would you like to come in?’

Mrs Butler would be in the kitchen already, putting on the kettle. Soon there would be tea. And coffee. And breakfast.

‘No, there’re still two places to try. I’m sorry,’ said the woman. ‘I’m her mother. Mrs Weston. She hasn’t been in all night and her bed hasn’t been slept in and she said she admired you so much, Miss Fisher, I thought she might have run away again—I mean, I thought she might be here. I’ll go,’ said Mrs Weston, and she went, her tartan slippers sliding treach-erously underfoot as she descended the steps. Phryne felt a pang of pure pity. It was not fair that she should be made ridiculous when her daughter was missing.

Mr Butler shut the door. The family looked at one another.

‘Well, it’s morning,’ said Phryne. ‘Barely. How about a nice cup of something and then perhaps an early breakfast, or perhaps we might be so sleepy that we can all go back to bed?’

she asked hopefully.

‘I’m not sleepy,’ Jane piped up.

‘Nor me,’ added Ruth helpfully.

‘Nice cuppa’s what we need,’ soothed Mr Butler. ‘I’ll just
64

Queen of Flowers - Pages 16/3/04 4:38 PM Page 65

KERRY GREENWOOD

put on the electric heater in the parlour, Miss Fisher, and we’ll be warm in a tick.’

Mr Butler retained his authority even when dressed in a brown woollen gown made to fit the larger than average bear.

Presently he brought tea, coffee, a tin of biscuits and the paper.

He promised breakfast in half an hour and Phryne decided that she might as well wake up properly, bathe and dress. Early morning was such a bleak time, she thought.

Dot, on the other hand, liked dawn. She murmured a prayer thanking God for having allowed her to live through the night as she went back to her own room for suitable clothes.

The girls scrambled into their garments and ate biscuits, discussing whether Molly should be allowed one biscuit or two for so long that Molly lost patience and stole three. This settled the matter to the satisfaction of all.

Breakfast was one of Mrs Butler’s dozen-egg omelettes, crispy as yellow tide-foam without, and succulent within.

Phryne found that she was hungry. The bacon was admirably crisp and there were mounds of toast. Phryne insisted on the Butlers sitting down with her at the breakfast room table.

‘Please, Mr Butler, it’s too early to argue,’ she said, and the Butlers sat down. Mrs Butler was pleased. She liked to watch people eating her excellent food.

‘What can have happened to Rose?’ asked Jane.

‘She might have just slipped out and gone to a dance and is late home,’ said Phryne.

‘But her parents are awfully strict,’ protested Ruth. ‘I heard Joannie talking about them when they were having all those fittings.’

‘Which is why she might have slipped out the window,’

said Phryne. ‘Or she may have run away. You heard Mrs Weston say “she might have run away again”. That means
65

Queen of Flowers - Pages 16/3/04 4:38 PM Page 66

QUEEN OF THE FLOWERS

that she has done so before. Is there a boyfriend in evidence, girls, do you know?’

‘They talked a lot about boys,’ said Ruth, biting precise semicircles out of her toast and marmalade. ‘Joannie is keen on this boy called Derek. And Diane said that Derek was an angel and Joannie said that he was ever so handsome and . . . let’s see

. . . Marie scolded them both for fools and Rose just smiled.’

‘No, she smirked,’ argued Jane, who was pedantic. ‘You remember, Ruthie, she said something like “I could have your Derek any time I wanted”, and Diane got angry with her. Then Madame told them to pipe down.’

‘I bet Madame never said that,’ said Dot.

‘No, she said “
Tais-toi
, Jeanne!” to Joannie and they all shut up.’

‘Interesting,’ said Phryne. ‘In reference to yourselves, by the way, I found this bunch of flowers in the sideway, and almost caught the person who left them there. If you want to go to a dance or if someone is courting you, I would like to know about it. I am not unreasonable. But I don’t like strangers around the house before dawn. Do you know anything about this? Jane? Ruth?’

Both plaits bounced again as they shook their heads in unison. Phryne, for some reason, did not believe them. Perhaps they might spill the beans if she questioned them separately.

Phryne put the roses in a glass of water. No sense in wasting good flowers.

‘But Miss Rose’s mother is frantic,’ said Dot censoriously.

‘And when she finds her she won’t get out again before Rose’s hair turns grey. If she was going to slip out of a window, wouldn’t she have arranged to get back before she was missed?’

‘Something must have gone wrong,’ said Phryne, shelving the matter of the roses for the moment. ‘Perhaps her ride home
66

Queen of Flowers - Pages 16/3/04 4:38 PM Page 67

KERRY GREENWOOD

fell through, or proved importunate, and she had to walk. She’s a febrile young woman with quite a lot of brain, and that is a very dangerous combination. Do you know anything about the Weston family, Dot?’

‘Nothing,’ said Dot. ‘Except that she was always dressed in a child’s clothes which didn’t fit her. And she was unhappy.’

‘Very unhappy. She talked to us a lot when she was here,’

said Jane. ‘Her grandfather rules the house, she said, and no one can do anything unless he says so because he has all the money.

He has a lot of political friends, too. Rose’s father went missing.’

‘In action?’ asked Phryne.

‘No, I think he just went away,’ said Jane.

‘With a cinema usherette,’ said Ruth. ‘Rose has to answer to her mother, who has some sort of nervous trouble, and her grandpa, whom she hates. She actually said that she hates him.

Didn’t she, Jane?’

‘Yes,’ Jane confirmed. ‘We were a bit surprised by that.

There’s a lot of money in the family but it all belongs to Grandpa and the other relatives just do as he says.’

‘Still, that’s not too unusual in old families,’ observed Mrs Butler.

‘I heard about old Mr Weston,’ said Mr Butler. ‘From several friends. He can’t keep servants because he’s so testy. No gentleman will put up with having boots thrown at his head because they aren’t shined to suit Mr Weston’s pleasure. He can’t keep a cook because he has fads. I remember when Mrs Butler heard from his cook, an old school friend of hers, about his food reform diets. I had to get her a glass of sherry.’

‘It wouldn’t be so bad if it was just food reform,’ said Mrs Butler, leaning her elbows on the table and settling down to a good gossip. ‘Food reform just means no cream, no meat, no butter and very little sugar; a good cook can get around that.

67

Queen of Flowers - Pages 16/3/04 4:38 PM Page 68

QUEEN OF THE FLOWERS

No, it’s because he changes all the time. And everyone in his house has to eat the latest diet. When he thought his granddaughter was getting too plump he put the whole household on a lemon juice and raw vegetable diet. It must be hard for the girl. She might have been all right while she was at boarding school but the general opinion is that old Mr Weston is too much to bear.’

‘And therefore he can’t keep his staff and even when they are allowed real food, it is indifferently cooked and badly served,’

commented Mr Butler. ‘Not a happy household, Miss Fisher.’

‘Yet they want their daughter back very badly,’ said Phryne.

‘I wonder why?’

‘The scandal,’ said Dot. ‘They might not like the girl but they won’t allow her to go to the bad in their own suburb, where their friends might see her.’

‘Dot dear, what a cynic you are to be sure,’ said Phryne affectionately. ‘Has Rose any siblings, girls?’

‘A younger brother who’s the apple of everyone’s eye,’

answered Ruth. ‘He’s only about three, so he hasn’t got into any trouble yet. When he was born she says that her family sort of forgot about her.’

That was a sad thought to go missing on, Phryne considered. She put down her empty cup and saw that everyone else had finished eating.

‘Thank you for such a delightful breakfast, Mrs Butler, at such an hour, too,’ said Phryne. ‘Now I’m going to call the sanatorium and get ready for the trials of the day. I do hope that silly girl hasn’t done anything really foolish,’ she added.

‘Sure to have,’ said Dot darkly.

On her telephone application to the sanatorium, Phryne was told that there was no reason why the girls should not go to
68

Queen of Flowers - Pages 16/3/04 4:38 PM Page 69

KERRY GREENWOOD

see Mrs Ross on that very Sunday, and Jane and Ruth took Molly outside to explain why they couldn’t take her for a walk.

Mrs Butler provided a picnic basket. Dot gathered up her crocheting and a variety of things which might be needed on a trip so far outside the confines of civilisation. Mr Butler put on the Assyrian panoply of his motoring garments, including his peaked cap. Phryne decided that she would take the importunate puppy on a promenade once everyone had left. If Molly didn’t get her walk she tended to bark hysterically at all passers-by and trample the pelargoniums.

But just as Phryne was waving her family off and turning to go back inside, she was stopped at the gate by a well-dressed young gentleman. He appeared agitated. His clothes, though good, seemed to have been assumed in a hurry; his tie was badly tied and one of his pockets was inside out. His umbrella was bundled together, not rolled, and his bowler had not been brushed.

‘Miss Fisher? Could you be Miss Fisher?’ he gasped.

Phryne had had enough of shocks and startlement for one day. ‘Yes, certainly I could be. Who are you?’ she enquired abruptly.

He took off his hat. ‘Sorry, sorry. I’m Pryles, Duncan Pryles, Mr Elijah Johnson’s secretary.’

Phryne remained unenlightened. ‘And Mr Johnson is . . .?’

The young man writhed with frustration. ‘Oh, you must know him, Miss Fisher, he’s on all the boards of directors for practically everything. Gives a lot of money to charities.’

‘Oh yes, that Johnson. And what does he want with me?’

‘He wants to consult with you,’ said Mr Pryles, looking really unhappy. ‘About . . . a girl.’

Phryne closed the gate. ‘If he wants a girl, there’re plenty over there,’ she said. ‘Just follow Fitzroy Street.’

69

Queen of Flowers - Pages 16/3/04 4:38 PM Page 70

QUEEN OF THE FLOWERS

‘No, Miss Fisher, please!’ The young man tied himself into a rather impressive knot. ‘The missing girl.’ He leaned forward to whisper. ‘Rose Weston.’

‘Oh,’ said Phryne. ‘Ah. Well, ask him to come in. I can give him a few minutes.’

Having bidden farewell to all her household, except Mrs Butler, who was getting on with the washing up, Phryne escorted Mr Johnson into the small parlour and settled him with a large gin. He was a tallish, rather imposing man with carefully trimmed grey hair and a fruity aldermanic voice. He seemed nervous.

‘Rose Weston is missing,’ he said. ‘I understand that you are a private detective, Miss Fisher. I want to retain you to find her.’

‘And your interest in the matter is . . .?’

‘A family friend. I have known her since she was so high.’

He held out a shaking hand some three feet from the carpet.

‘I will see what I can do,’ said Phryne. ‘But you are aware that she was unhappy at home and may have had reasons for leaving.’

Mr Johnson jumped and spilled some of his gin down his waistcoat. ‘Oh, surely not, Miss Fisher,’ he began, and Phryne cut him short.

‘I do investigations for my own reasons, Mr Johnson, as I am sure that you are aware,’ she said sternly. ‘And I can’t do a thing if my client is lying to me. If you know the family, you know that Rose was unhappy. Those ridiculous clothes, for example. She may have found a boy and run away just to be free. Young people do such things, you know.’

‘Well, yes, well, as you say, Miss Fisher,’ said Mr Johnson, mopping his brow. ‘She probably found home life a bit . . .

restrictive. And her clothes were absurd, I agree. But her mother is frantic. If you can find Rose, tell her that things will be better,
70

Queen of Flowers - Pages 16/3/04 4:38 PM Page 71

KERRY GREENWOOD

that she can choose her own clothes and perhaps even go out—

properly chaperoned, of course. If you could try to find her.’

‘All right.’ Phryne’s curiosity was piqued. And she hadn’t done a rummage through the houses of ill repute for a while.

But Phryne had seen a fair number of lost girl cases and Mr Johnson wasn’t saying the one thing that they all said. And now he was writing her a fat cheque, taking his hat, his secretary and his leave, and actually leaving, without saying it. However angry the parents, they always said: ‘as long as she’s all right.’

Mr Johnson had not said that. Curious. Very curious indeed.

Phryne put a note on the front door, ‘Miss Fisher Is Not at Home Today’, and shut it. Then, calling out an explanation to Mrs Butler, she went upstairs and put herself to bed for a short nap.

Now that she had managed to persuade everyone to go on this expedition, Ruth was having second, or even third, thoughts.

Not that it wasn’t a nice day for a drive, as Mr Butler remarked to Dot. Dot liked being driven by Mr Butler, who never exceeded the speed limit or tried his luck on the compara-tive agility between the Hispano-Suiza and a milk-cart. They proceeded at a decorous twenty miles an hour, which was quite fast enough for Dot. And it was a nice day. The hot wind had changed to a cool breeze and the blue sky was dotted with fleecy clouds. There was an ample picnic basket in the back and this journey might put Ruth’s restlessness at ease. Dot jammed her immovable cloche down further on her head and snuggled into her car rug, happy to enjoy the scenery.

‘Oh, Jane, what have I done?’ moaned Ruth.