Blood and Circuses
Read Blood and Circuses Online
Authors: Kerry Greenwood
Praise for Kerry Greenwood’s Phryne Fisher series
‘Independent, wealthy, spirited and possessed of an uninhibited style that makes everyone move out of her way and stand gawking for a full five minutes after she walks by—Phryne Fisher is a woman who gets what she wants and has the good sense to enjoy every minute of it!’
Geelong Times
‘Phryne . . . is a wonderful fantasy of how you could live your life if you had beauty, money, brains and superb self control.’
The Age
‘Fisher is a sexy, sassy and singularly modish character. Her 1920s Melbourne is racy, liberal and a city where crime occurs on its shadowy, largely unlit streets.’
Canberra Times
‘The presence of the inimitable Phryne Fisher makes this mystery a delightful, glamorous romp of a novel—a literary glass of champagne with a hint of debauchery.’
Armidale Express
‘Elegant, fabulously wealthy and sharp as a tack, Phryne sleuths her way through these classical detective stories with customary panache . . . Greenwood’s character is irresistibly charming, and her stories benefit from research, worn lightly, into the Melbourne of the period.’
The Age
‘The astonishing thing is not that Phryne is so gloriously fleshed out with her lulu bob and taste for white peaches and green chartreuse, but that I had not already made her acquaintance.’
Bendigo Advertiser
KERRY GREENWOOD is the author of more than fifty novels and six non-fiction works, and the editor of two collections. When she is not writing Kerry is an advocate in magistrates’ courts for the Legal Aid Commission. She is not married, has no children and lives with a registered Wizard.
Phryne Fisher mysteries:
Cocaine Blues
Flying too High
Murder on the Ballarat Train
Death at Victoria Dock
The Green Mill Murder
Blood and Circuses
Ruddy Gore
Urn Burial
Raisins and Almonds
Death Before Wicket
Away with the Fairies
Murder in Montparnasse
The Castlemaine Murders
Queen of the Flowers
Death by Water
Murder in the Dark
Murder on a Midsummer Night
Dead Man’s Chest
A Question of Death: An Illustrated Phryne Fisher Treasury
Corinna Chapman mysteries:
Earthly Delights
Heavenly Pleasures
Devil’s Food
Trick or Treat
Forbidden Fruit
Cooking the Books
KERRY
GREENWOOD
BLOOD
AND
CIRCUSES
This edition published in 2012.
First published by Allen & Unwin in 2005.
First published in 1994 by McPhee Gribble Publishers.
Copyright © Kerry Greenwood 2012
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publisher. The Australian
Copyright Act 1968
(the Act) allows a maximum of one chapter or 10 per cent of this book, whichever is the greater, to be photocopied by any educational institution for its educational purposes provided that the educational institution (or body that administers it) has given a remuneration notice to Copyright Agency Limited (CAL) under the Act.
Allen & Unwin
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Crows Nest NSW 2065
Australia
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Cataloguing-in-Publication details are available
from the National Library of Australia
www.trove.nla.gov.au
ISBN 978 1 74237 966 1
Set in 11.5/14 pt Adobe Garamond by Bookhouse, Sydney
Printed in Australia by McPherson’s Printing Group
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
For John Greenwood,
my dear brother
CONTENTS
Fervent thanks to David Greagg, Jean Greenwood, Nick Engleman the juggler, Gregory Carter the clown, Jenny Pausacker, Richard Revill, Keryn D’Arcy, Stephen D’Arcy, Roz Greenwood, Ann Dwyer, Meredith Rose, Sophie Cunningham, Simon Barfoot the diva, Judith Rodriguez, Jude Bourguignon, the staff at Footscray Library, the Performing Arts Museum, the Moscow Circus, Circus Oz, Bullen’s Circus, and all circuses, carnivals and fairs.
‘People must be amused, Squire . . .
they can’t always be a-working, nor yet
they can’t always be a-learning. Make
the best of us, not the worst.’
Charles Dickens
Hard Times
These were a part of a playing I heard
Once, ere my love and my heart were at strife
Love that sings and hath wings as a bird
Balm of the wound and heft of the knife.
Algernon Swinburne
The Triumph of Time
Mrs Witherspoon, widow of uncertain years and theatrical background, was taking tea in her refined house for paying gentlefolk in Brunswick Street, Fitzroy. It was four o’clock on a warmish Friday afternoon. The month was October and the year was 1928 and she had no idea, as she reached for the last slice of fruitcake, that the worst moment of her life was a mere minute away.
A drop fell from the ceiling and plopped into her cup. She tsked.
‘Oh, dear, that Mr Christopher has let his bath run over again. I’ve told him and told him about that.’
Mr Sheridan leapt to his feet, and Mrs Witherspoon glared at him. ‘Not you, Mr Sheridan, if you please.’
‘I’ll run up, shall I?’ offered Miss Minton, who was behind with her rent until another show should manifest itself and was consequently disposed to be helpful.
‘Yes, dear, you do that, but don’t open the door, will you? Mr Christopher is so careless with doors and I won’t have no immodesty in my house.’ The voice was full, rich as the fruitcake and perfectly pitched to carry to the back row of the stalls. Miss Minton, who had been a showgirl and dancer since she was seventeen, grinned and went out. They heard her feet clatter on the uncarpeted stairs.
The company consisted of Mrs Witherspoon, a magician called Robert Sheridan, a character actress whose stage name was Parkes and whose past, it was darkly hinted, would not bear examination, as well as the Miss Minton who had just departed on her mission.
The others were paying close attention to what they could hear of her progress along the corridor to the bathroom.
‘I say, Mr Christopher,’ the girl called. ‘Hey!’ she added. They heard the bathroom door open with its characteristic creak. Mrs Witherspoon tutted at the behaviour of modern girls and finished her cup of tea, brushing idly at another drop which had fallen on her hair. Miss Parkes hid a smile. Mr Christopher was slim, moved like a dancer and had dark Valentino hair and finely cut features. Miss Parkes had watched Miss Minton chasing him for weeks; she would not miss an opportunity to corner him in the bath. And there would be a surprise in store for her when she did: a life in the chorus line, thought Miss Parkes, injured the modesty.
The sounds of emptying water that they were expecting never came. Instead, Miss Minton ran back exclaiming, ‘He’s not there, Mrs Witherspoon, and he hasn’t been there. The bath’s as dry as a chip.’
It was only then that they all looked at the ceiling.
A large red stain, like the ace of hearts, was spreading and dripping. No one even thought that it might be red wine. Mrs Witherspoon put up a shaking hand and wiped her cheek, where another drop had fallen.
Her palm came away stained with blood.
She recalled, with dreadful inner turmoil, that she had finished her cup of tea.
The arrival of the police was not enough to drag Mrs Witherspoon out of her place of concealment, so a very discomfited Constable Tommy Harris held a conversation with her through the door.
‘Whose room is just overhead?’ he asked desperately. A gasping retch was all his reply. Miss Parkes nodded at him and he left the door.
‘I can tell you about it. The poor old dear has realised that she’s drunk blood in her tea and that’s upsetting, wouldn’t you agree? The bathroom is upstairs and the adjoining room is Mr Christopher’s. He is a circus performer and he is usually asleep until tea every day, because he performs at night. I’ve been up and tried his door but it’s locked.’
