A Brood of Vipers

Author: Firebird9

Rating: T

"But, my dears, wasn't that just terrible news about poor Billy Postlethwaite?" Bunny Thornton remarked as she sipped her cocktail. There were murmurs of agreement from the other women in the beauty salon and Phryne, who had been more or less out of circulation for a few days while she dealt with a particularly sensitive case involving a rather young, and very well-bred, mother-to-be and her mysteriously absent soon-to-be fiancé, lifted a slice of cucumber from her delicate eyelid and regarded Bunny with interest and more than a little concern.

"Whatever do you mean?" She and Billy had been friends in her London days, and although she hadn't seen much of him since her return to Melbourne she didn't like the idea that he might be in some kind of strife.

"Why Phryne, do you mean you hadn't heard? It's been all over the papers." Maybe, but she had been all over half-a-dozen small towns in the last few days and had hardly had the time, or the opportunity, to catch up since she had all-but-dragged the shamefaced young father-to-be back by his ear. At her slight headshake, Bunny continued importantly. "Well, it was just awful. The night before last he was set upon in an alleyway by some thugs and stabbed to death!"

"Dead?"

"Oh, yes. It's just dreadful," Amanda Hartfield chipped in, before adding in a rather slyer tone, "although rather convenient for that wife of his." This was met with murmurs of agreement from the other women, and Phryne thinned her lips. Yes, she had heard the rumours but she had not wanted to believe them.

"Awfully convenient for the entire family, one way or another," Roberta Butters agreed, eliciting further murmurs. Evidently the general consensus amongst the ladies of Melbourne Society was that the late William Postlethwaite was unlikely to be as lamented as he might have hoped. Phryne sighed and removed the cucumber from her other eyelid before standing.

"Phryne? Surely it hasn't been half an hour yet?"

"Barely fifteen minutes, but I've just remembered that I have an appointment to keep that just can't wait."

...

"Billy Postlethwaite's death was no senseless robbery-gone-wrong!"

"And a very good morning to you as well, Miss Fisher." Jack Robinson glanced up from the files littering his desk before swiftly glancing down again. Anything to hide the smile that was tugging at his lips. It had been a number of weeks since Melbourne had furnished a murder complex enough to pique The Honourable Miss Phryne Fisher's interest, and he was no longer dismayed, or even surprised, by the realisation that he had been missing her company. True, she had dropped by the station a time or two ('four times, to be precise,' the part of his brain that wouldn't allow him to pretend that he didn't keep track of such things informed him), and he had allowed his weary feet to make their way to her house for a nightcap once or twice ('three times,' his helpful brain corrected), but it hardly compared with the many hours of close company which a case demanded. He forced his expression to polite neutrality and raised his head again just as she dropped into the seat opposite him.

"For a start there are his brothers. They were partners in the family business: with Billy dead Archie becomes senior partner and he and Bernard both increase their share. Meanwhile, if the rumours are anything to go by, Bernie was having an affair with Charlotte. That's Billy's wife," she added in case he was uncertain, but she continued before he could do more than nod acknowledgement of the fact. "Then there's his sister, Marjorie. Their father was firmly of the opinion that a woman didn't need to be financially independent. Margy gets a modest annual allowance, payable to her husband, upon marriage, but meantime she's completely dependent on Billy. And while he was certainly more generous than his father he wasn't about to throw open the family coffers to her, let alone give her a stake in the family business. Which is a shame: Margy's arguably the brightest of the lot. And then there's his gambling habit: Billy was almost ruined in London before his father stepped in five years ago. Now that Algernon's dead Billy was in a position to ruin the whole family if he went back to his old ways. Not to mention that if he had started gambling again there might very well be some angry creditors out there looking to recover their debts – although I don't think that's likely, given that dead men very seldom pay their bills."

She finally paused to draw breath, glaring at him across the table as though daring him to contradict her. He smiled inwardly. That was Phryne: once she got going, stopping her was about as easy as stopping a fully-loaded train dead in its tracks, and similarly messy. Much better simply to stand clear and wait for her to run out of steam naturally.

"As it happens, I agree." She blinked, surprised.

"You do?"

"Indeed. Although I'm fascinated to know just how it is that you're so familiar with the deceased and his family, but we'll get to that. What happened to his leg?"

"He had polio as a child. It meant he was unfit for active service in the War; a fact he bitterly resented."

"One of the good ones then," Jack mused. Plenty of able-bodied men from privileged backgrounds had used their rank as a means of avoiding active duty, preferring to leave the working-class plebs like himself to face the enemy on their behalf. "Why would a man crippled to the point that he walks with a cane be out for a late-night stroll more than half a mile from his house? He didn't drive: couldn't. He wasn't dressed for a night out. He was killed elsewhere and the body dumped to make it look like a robbery. But there were no signs of a struggle. Either he knew his attacker and didn't see it coming, or he was drugged. I've got Dr. Johnson testing his stomach contents for sedatives as we speak."

"And what does Dr. Johnson think at this point?"

"He wanted to know whether testing the stomach contents was your idea. I informed him that I was working the case alone, but that if you thought that the brain should be examined I'd be sure to let him know." She loved it when he caught her eye and smiled like that, with the cheeky, conspiratorial grin that made her wonder just what the younger Jack Robinson might have been like, before the War stripped much of that sense of humour away. "Now," he picked up a notepad and pen, jotting down a few notes based on what she had already told him, "how about you tell me exactly how well you knew the deceased." When she didn't answer immediately he looked up to see her smirking at him. She raised an eyebrow, and he sighed. "Another one, Miss Fisher?"

She chuckled, pleased to have had him going. "No, as it happens. As strange as it may seem I don't actually make a habit of bedding every man I meet. And he was already married to Charlotte when we met. That was in London, about six years ago."

"Just before he got himself into strife with his gambling?"

She shrugged. "He was probably already well on his way, even then. It's so much a part of the life over there; the races during the day, and the gaming tables at night. Heaven knows, I'm not immune to the delights of a little flutter myself. But with Billy it was always a lot more than a 'little' flutter. One way or another his father got word of what was going on, and dispatched Archie to sort it all out and bring him home. Archie never forgave Billy for being sickly, and it was even worse after the war broke out. Billy couldn't serve, and Bernie was too young, so poor Archie bore the entire burden of the family's honour and expectations. When he returned home they expected him to play the conquering hero, and of course..." she trailed off, looking to him for understanding. Many returning servicemen had simply wanted to forget, as much as possible, all that they had seen and done. Pressure from others to play the part of the returning hero made that all but impossible. "And then, when all he wanted to do was settle down at home in Melbourne with a new bride of his own, he was dispatched back to Blighty to pick up the pieces of Billy's profligate ways. And even after all that, Billy was still the heir."

"And then Algernon died?"

"About two years ago. Emily – that's their mother – passed away during the Spanish Flu epidemic while Archie was still en route from France. Yet another reason to resent his brother – Archie was always their mother's favourite but it was Billy who got to be there for her final days. Anyway, now it's just the four of them, plus Charlotte and Josephine."

"Josephine?"

"Archie's wife, and mother of the only two heirs born into the family so far, although don't ask me their names, I'm horrible with children."

"But if Billy didn't have any children, that would give Archie an additional motive to remove his brother from the line of succession: not only would he become the heir, but his children's futures would be similarly secure."

"The whole family is a veritable viper's nest of bitterness and resentment. It's no wonder Billy moved to London."

"I'm impressed, Miss Fisher. We have four suspects among the immediate family, plus an unknown number of possible associates from the gambling underworld, and at least-" he tapped his pen down the page, counting "- six possible motives. That's complicated even by your standards." He rose and went to collect his coat and hat. "Coming?"

"To interview the family?" He nodded, and she grinned. "I thought you'd never ask."