Raisins and almonds - Poisoned Pen Press (UK)

1 4 Kerry Greenwood
‘Here, he hasn’t come,’ said Mrs. Abrahams. ‘Where can my
Simon be?’
‘I’m sure he’s somewhere. Where is Mr. Abrahams?’
‘In the workshop. Always the workshop. I’ll phone him. No,
I’ll send Chaim. Maybe Simon is there.’
‘Listen, Mrs. Abrahams, if he isn’t there, can you phone me
again?’
‘You’re worried, nu?’ Mrs. Abrahams’ voice sharpened.
‘I’m a little concerned,’ temporized Phryne. ‘But I’m sure
he’ll be all right.’
She replaced the receiver on another ‘Oy!’
Where was the boy?
999
Phryne requested strong coffee. She wanted to think.
In the bag which the robber had tried to steal was the rubber
ball which Dr. Treasure had so triumphantly made. The formula
was concealed inside Phryne’s bust band. An obvious precaution.
She had removed it that morning from its place in her packet of
sanitary napkins. She had gambled on that not being searched.
The subconscious male taboo on menstruation worked on customs
officers, too. How desperate the buyer must be getting, to
risk attacking Phryne in the street in broad daylight!
Phryne took up the phone and called Jack Robinson. The adorable
Dr. Treasure and his family must be protected. Phryne had
watched as he had poured out all the chemicals used in the making
of Yossi’s artificial rubber, and the rubber itself had been destroyed
with acid and also poured away. Dr. Treasure, however, knew the
formula. It might be tortured from him, especially if they had his
wife or the fat noisy baby. And Phryne had enjoyed kissing him.
People with that much osculatory skill cannot be wasted.
Detective Inspector Robinson agreed, though Phryne did
not mention the kiss. There was no need, she considered, to tell
policemen more than they needed to know.