Free Flying Too High by Kerry Greenwood

was Mr McNaughton here?’
    ‘He must have come out here to continue his argument with his son, of course. Then it developed into a fight, no, hang on, there’s the point about the stone. Bill McNaughton brought his father out here, and had the rock ready, and asked his father to look at something, perhaps, and then…bang, then he panics, leaves the stone, and runs off down the valley to recover himself.’
    ‘Would he have had blood on him?’
    ‘I asked the police surgeon that, Miss. He says that if he hit him from behind, which is what he thinks happened, then he wouldn’t have to have any blood on him. I thought like you, Miss,’ continued Benton, honouring Phryne by implying that they shared the same reasoning, ‘I thought that he was going down to the river to wash. But he still had the same clothes on when we apprehended him last night, and there ain’t no mark on them.’
    ‘I see. Well, watching your methods has been most illuminating, Detective-inspector. Thank you so much.’ Phryne took her leave and went back to the house. Danny the dog cried after her from where he was tied in the kitchen garden.
    ‘Amelia, I have to go and find a lawyer for Bill,’ she called into the Chinese room. ‘Give me my paintings and see what you can do about getting me a taxi.’
    ‘I’ll drive you,’ offered Amelia. Phryne shook her head.
    ‘I need you here, and so does your mother.’
    The maid went off to telephone for a cab, and Amelia seized Phryne by the sleeve.
    ‘Do you think Bill did it?’ she breathed.
    ‘I don’t know. Tell me, the children who play in the garden, did your father know about them?’
    ‘Not until recently—he was always out during Sunday. He came home early last week and caught me with them, and threw them out, the brute. The poor little things haven’t anywhere else to play, and their mothers know that they are safe with me. I used to give them tea. And cakes. Bill likes children, too. He rigged up that swing with the tyre for them.’ Amelia shuddered suddenly, and all the colour drained out of her face.
    ‘The police took the tyre away, but they said I can have it back. I’ll have to find somewhere else to put it.’
    ‘Have you seen the children since your father died?’
    ‘No, they have stayed away, poor things, I suppose that they are frightened.’
    ‘Why don’t you invite them again?’ suggested Phryne. ‘They will make you feel better, and you can have them in the house, now.’
    ‘What a good idea. I can have a party! Oh, but not with Bill—’
    ‘Nonsense. Have your party. Let me know when it is. I like children, too,’ lied Phryne. ‘Your brother will come up at the Melbourne Magistrates’ Court tomorrow at ten. Perhaps you should be there, and bring some money.’
    ‘Where shall I get money?’
    ‘Oh, dear, have you not got your father’s bankbooks? Did he have a safe in the house?’
    ‘Of course. The detective-inspector brought the keys back. The police have already searched it. Come on, let’s have a look.’
    She led the way upstairs to a huge bedroom, decorated in the extreme of modernity. The walls were jazz-coloured and the stark gigantic bed looked like it was made of industrial piping.
    ‘Did your father really like all this stuff?’ asked Phryne, as Amelia swung a picture aside and unlocked the safe.
    ‘Father? I don’t know,’ admitted Amelia, her brow furrowing as she spun the combination wheel. ‘He had the house built in the most modern style and then said that the inside had to match the outside. The designer did all the rest. It was very expensive. Ah. There’s the click. I remembered the combination correctly after all.’ The safe door swung open and Phryne received an armload of paper, jewel cases and a document case.
    ‘There are mother’s sapphires—he told her he had sold them,’ observed Amelia, opening the blue-velvet boxes. ‘And Granny’s pearls, and Great-Granny’s emerald set. Oh, and here is the enamel from that