Death by Water by Kerry Greenwood Page B

and she says it was agony,’ Phryne said.
    ‘A tattoo? That nice respectable old lady?’ Dot’s needle 80
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    unthreaded with the involuntary jerk of her hand. ‘Drat,’ she added.
    ‘A Maori tattoo. It probably has something to do with rank.
    She’s still a nice respectable lady, Dot. And the mousetrap was sprung,’ said Phryne with satisfaction. ‘Either old Mr Aubrey, Professor Applegate or someone they knew rummaged in my bag while I was being jumped on by that muscle-bound idiot Jack Mason.’
    ‘Did anyone have a bruised hand?’ asked Dot, re-threading the needle.
    ‘I couldn’t tell. I didn’t see the actual incident, just heard the snap. Mr Aubrey had his hands under his rug and the professor has such blotchy hands that I couldn’t decide. But we are attracting attention, Dorothy, the right kind of attention.
    Now I am going to have a nap until it’s time to dress for dinner.
    All this detecting is tiring work. And why, Dot, is there a teddy bear on my bed?’
    It was a newish bear, sitting jauntily alongside one of the Hinemoa ’s plump brocade lounging pillows. He looked more than a little out of place.
    ‘There’s a child in Third Class that forgot her favourite toy,’ said Dot, ‘And they tried giving her a new bear but he was too new and she just cried some more. So I said that we’d squeeze the newness out of him. I’ve already loosened his right ear and re-stitched his eye. He just needs to be hugged,’
    explained Dot. ‘I’ll take him tonight.’
    ‘Oh,’ said Phryne, touched. ‘How very nice of you, Dot.
    Come along, Teddy.’
    She lay down comfortably, clutching the teddy bear to her curves, and shut her eyes. She was asleep in moments.
    Dot stitched steadily. If she kept on at this rate, she would finish her tea cloth before the enforced rest of the Sabbath.
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    Richard Van Geer
    Diamond cutter
    Amsterdam
    This is to advise you that our representative, Mynheer H Brugge, will be sailing to America soon to convey greetings and confiden-tial reports to our home company in New York. He will be pleased to carry any of your merchandise or letters which cannot be entrusted to the ordinary post.
    Brugge and Associates
    Haarlem
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    CHAPTER SIX
    Pack, clouds, away, and welcome day.
    With night we banish sorrow:
    T Heywood
    ‘Pack, clouds, away’
    Phryne woke and found that she had buried her face in the teddy’s soft fur. She sneezed. Dot was still stitching. An hour had gone by. An explanation for the jewel thefts which was so totally preposterous she could really only have thought of it while her usual critical faculties were disabled, bloomed in her mind and she laughed aloud. Dot looked up.
    ‘Call for a small pre-prandial nip,’ Phryne said, still laughing.
    ‘Gin for me and sherry for you. Full dinner dress this evening.
    I shall wear the charcoal with the sable stole. No, it’s too warm for sable. The silk shawl with all those gold beads. I’ve just had the oddest notion, Dot. So odd that I’m really not going to tell even you, in case you call Caroline to bring a nice straitjacket with the drinks tray. But what an idea, eh, Teddy?’ She punched the teddy in his rotund tummy and was rewarded with a growly noise.
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    Dot called Caroline, who bustled in with her tray. ‘Had a nice day, ladies?’ she asked. ‘Roberts says you swim really good, Miss Fisher. They’re having a race on Monday, you want to be in it—the prize is a bottle of the best bubbly, corker stuff, they say, though I prefer beer myself.’
    Phryne took the glass containing the perfectly mixed gin and tonic. Should she mention Mr Forrester? Johnson had seen her come out of his cabin. Should she start explaining herself to a censorious crew? No, no, a thousand times no. They could put up with it and like it or not depending