Raisins and almonds - Poisoned Pen Press (UK)

1 Kerry Greenwood
windows. The pallid mannequins were in the same pose, hung
with the same jewellery, wearing the same dresses. Foy and
Gibson’s at the corner of Bourke Street was still advertising
unparalleled cheapness in summer garments. Art silk dresses
for nine and six!
The big advertising board told her that customers preferred
Dunlop tyres.
Exercise was soothing Miss Lee’s fears. Her stockings whispered
as she walked, and she was pleasantly conscious of the silk
underwear. The sun was beginning to bite, and her suitcase was
getting heavier, loaded as it was with Latin books.
‘I should go home first,’ she commented to Dot. ‘If I still
have a home. My landlady keeps a respectable house. She may
not want me back.’
‘Oh, yes, Miss, I’m sure you still have a home,’ said Dot. She
was sure of this, because she had heard Miss Fisher talking to the
landlady about the matter. Miss Fisher had been very firm, and
when Phryne was firm even a boarding house landlady might
quail.
Miss Lee led the way up the stairs to her apartment. Mrs.
Smythe (with a y, please) met her on the landing with a pleasant
smile.
‘Miss Lee, glad to see you home,’ she said. She had, of course,
been intending to evict Miss Lee neck and crop—imagine, a
woman accused of murder in her nice house! But her conversation
with Miss Fisher had ameliorated her views. A woman who
has been cleared of a murder charge which should never have
been laid in the first place, and who moreover had aristocratic
connections, was a different matter. Miss Lee smiled faintly and
continued climbing.
‘It all looks the same,’ she said, as she opened her own door.
‘I’ll see you in an hour,’ said Dot with tact, and withdrew.
Miss Lee unpacked her suitcase, put all of her prison garments
in a bag to be washed, and sat down on her bed.
It was all still here. Her books piled on her bedside table. Her
narrow bed, made up with clean sheets. On the table which she