Raisins and almonds - Poisoned Pen Press (UK)

Raisins and Almonds 1
Phryne opened her own gate, thinking deeply. It might have
been an attempted handbag snatch—they were happening
more frequently as unemployment began to bite and more and
more people were rendered desperate. Phryne was certainly well
dressed and the ordinary robber would be justified in thinking
that her purse would be worth investigation. But there had been
the car. The planned escape route.
And she had seen so little! She spat out a very rude word. Just
a tall, moderately strong, moderately young man, face hidden
by a scarf. He had not spoken. The car had been of some nondescript
colour—black, maybe, or dark blue. She had not seen
the numberplate. Nothing, in short, to go on.
‘May beets grow out of their bellies,’ cursed Phryne. She
could really get to love Yiddish. It was a language made for
situations like these.
No one but the Butlers were home. Dot had presumably
taken Miss Lee for her walk about the city. The girls were out
on a picnic. Phryne was passing the phone when it rang.
‘Yes?’
‘Miss Fisher, can you send my son home?’ asked a heavily
accented voice.
‘Mrs. Abrahams?’
‘You have someone else’s son?’ asked Julia Abrahams.
‘Someone else’s son you have as well as mine?’
‘No, I haven’t even got yours,’ said Phryne. ‘I haven’t seen
him since breakfast.’
‘Oy, gevalt. Sons you have. Trouble you have!’
‘He isn’t home?’ asked Phryne, wondering where Simon
might have got to. He had wanted to come with her to set
Miss Lee at liberty, and she had rather snubbed him. Probably
the Abrahams boy was somewhere suitably depressing, eating
worms.
‘I expect he’s just sulking,’ she assured Julia Abrahams.
‘You saw him this morning?’
‘Yes, and I went out directly after breakfast. I thought he was
going home to talk to his father.’