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Authors: Kerry Greenwood
Tags: A Phyrne Fisher Mystery
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a collection of emeralds—the Attenbury emeralds, Dot, you may remember hearing about them. It was in all the papers.’
‘An old man died and left the jewels to his nurse. And the family took it to court to say that he was cuckoo,’ Dot recalled.
‘But I can’t remember what happened.’
‘The family won,’ Phryne told her. ‘They proved that the old gentleman repeatedly walked on his hands, ate only a vegetable diet, refused to see any of his relatives when they called and sent his nurse out to, for instance, buy overripe mangoes so that he could throw them against a wall. He liked the splosh, apparently.
The nurse looked on these actions as harmless eccentricities but the stern majesty of the law took a different view. The mangoes alone were enough to convince the court that the testator was not in his right mind. Miss Jacobs, the nurse, was turned out without a penny and became companion to Miss Berengaria Reynolds, the elderly lady who was the principal beneficiary, being the old man’s only close relative. His sister, I believe.
‘Reading between Mr Navigation Officer Theodore Green’s tactful lines, I gather that the old lady was one of those poisonous bitches who make it their practice to humiliate their 51
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companion in every possible way. Especially in public. Miss Jacobs was always being sent back for things she had forgotten because Miss Reynolds hadn’t told her to bring them, berated for bringing things Miss Reynolds didn’t want after all, called a fool in every possible way for failing to read her mistress’s mind and grudged any time out of her persecutress’s claws.
Presumably in case she recovered any joie de vivre.’
‘I know that sort of lady,’ said Dot, lips tightening.
‘Me too. Not to mention the personal abuse, about how ugly she was and how unlikely to attract a man, and how she would have to spend the rest of her miserable life as a companion to such as Miss Berengaria,’ said Phryne. ‘Now if Miss Berengaria had been dropped overboard no one would have been even slightly surprised. There might, in fact, have been discreet applause. But instead the Attenbury emeralds went byes while Miss Berengaria was taking a virtuous afternoon nap and Miss Jacobs was in the Palm Court, drinking a gin fizz in company with Mr Albert Forrester. And if ever a woman needed a gin fizz and some complimentary male company it was poor Miss Jacobs. Of course Miss Reynolds instantly denounced her for the theft, but it was clear that she had a perfect alibi.’
‘And the jewels were never found?’
‘Not so much as a glint of green glass. The last theft was from Mrs West, the underdressed lady. It was a necklace of perfectly matched pearls. Pink ones, each about the size of a marrowfat pea. Worth untold squillions, though Mr West settled for less than that. Again, removed from the lady while she was dancing. With, as it happens, Mr Mason, but she dances with him a lot. Again, an increasingly stringent search.
Again, not a sausage. Same cast. They must know each other very well by now.’
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‘Indeed,’ said Dot. She stitched steadily. ‘Oh, by the way, Miss, I met a musician who said she was Mr Cec’s niece.’
‘Lizbet Yates? Plays the trumpet. Which I think is very enterprising of her.’
‘Nice girl, though she’s a bit rough and some of the other Melody Makers are rougher,’ opined Dot, biting off a thread.
‘The amount of drink they got through, you’d think it was the wharfies’ picnic. And it’s not nice, a lady drinking beer like that.’
‘All brass players drink a lot of beer,’ said Phryne. ‘They blow themselves quite dehydrated. Or that’s what I’m told—
by, now I come to think of it, brass players. At least she’s a good tempered creature, unlike some male trumpeters I have met.’
‘Nice as pie,’ said Dot. ‘Very friendly. I’m having lunch with most of
‘An old man died and left the jewels to his nurse. And the family took it to court to say that he was cuckoo,’ Dot recalled.
‘But I can’t remember what happened.’
‘The family won,’ Phryne told her. ‘They proved that the old gentleman repeatedly walked on his hands, ate only a vegetable diet, refused to see any of his relatives when they called and sent his nurse out to, for instance, buy overripe mangoes so that he could throw them against a wall. He liked the splosh, apparently.
The nurse looked on these actions as harmless eccentricities but the stern majesty of the law took a different view. The mangoes alone were enough to convince the court that the testator was not in his right mind. Miss Jacobs, the nurse, was turned out without a penny and became companion to Miss Berengaria Reynolds, the elderly lady who was the principal beneficiary, being the old man’s only close relative. His sister, I believe.
‘Reading between Mr Navigation Officer Theodore Green’s tactful lines, I gather that the old lady was one of those poisonous bitches who make it their practice to humiliate their 51
Death by Water-PAGES 21/4/05 2:21 PM Page 52
companion in every possible way. Especially in public. Miss Jacobs was always being sent back for things she had forgotten because Miss Reynolds hadn’t told her to bring them, berated for bringing things Miss Reynolds didn’t want after all, called a fool in every possible way for failing to read her mistress’s mind and grudged any time out of her persecutress’s claws.
Presumably in case she recovered any joie de vivre.’
‘I know that sort of lady,’ said Dot, lips tightening.
‘Me too. Not to mention the personal abuse, about how ugly she was and how unlikely to attract a man, and how she would have to spend the rest of her miserable life as a companion to such as Miss Berengaria,’ said Phryne. ‘Now if Miss Berengaria had been dropped overboard no one would have been even slightly surprised. There might, in fact, have been discreet applause. But instead the Attenbury emeralds went byes while Miss Berengaria was taking a virtuous afternoon nap and Miss Jacobs was in the Palm Court, drinking a gin fizz in company with Mr Albert Forrester. And if ever a woman needed a gin fizz and some complimentary male company it was poor Miss Jacobs. Of course Miss Reynolds instantly denounced her for the theft, but it was clear that she had a perfect alibi.’
‘And the jewels were never found?’
‘Not so much as a glint of green glass. The last theft was from Mrs West, the underdressed lady. It was a necklace of perfectly matched pearls. Pink ones, each about the size of a marrowfat pea. Worth untold squillions, though Mr West settled for less than that. Again, removed from the lady while she was dancing. With, as it happens, Mr Mason, but she dances with him a lot. Again, an increasingly stringent search.
Again, not a sausage. Same cast. They must know each other very well by now.’
52
Death by Water-PAGES 21/4/05 2:21 PM Page 53
‘Indeed,’ said Dot. She stitched steadily. ‘Oh, by the way, Miss, I met a musician who said she was Mr Cec’s niece.’
‘Lizbet Yates? Plays the trumpet. Which I think is very enterprising of her.’
‘Nice girl, though she’s a bit rough and some of the other Melody Makers are rougher,’ opined Dot, biting off a thread.
‘The amount of drink they got through, you’d think it was the wharfies’ picnic. And it’s not nice, a lady drinking beer like that.’
‘All brass players drink a lot of beer,’ said Phryne. ‘They blow themselves quite dehydrated. Or that’s what I’m told—
by, now I come to think of it, brass players. At least she’s a good tempered creature, unlike some male trumpeters I have met.’
‘Nice as pie,’ said Dot. ‘Very friendly. I’m having lunch with most of
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