Flying Too High Read Online Free Page A

next time I do something like that, don’t watch. All right? Now, have you got the keys? All the inside work should be finished, and the housekeeper should be here.’
    Dot sniffed, pocketed her handkerchief and found the keys. She smiled shakily at Phryne who had leapt lightly out of the car and was waiting at the front gate.
    It was a neat, bijou townhouse, faced with shining white stucco so that it looked like an iced cake. It had two storeys and a delightful attic room with a gable-window which Dot had claimed. She had never had a bedroom of her own until she had come to work for Phryne, and she still found the idea tantalizing. A room with a door which you could lock, a place to be completely alone until you wanted to let the world in.
    Phryne stood aside in the little porch to allow Dot to open the front door, which was solid mahogany. The hall was dark, and Phryne had lightened it with white paint, upon which the stained glass fanlight cast beautiful colours. The ground level rooms, which as yet were sparsely furnished, were floored with bare polished boards and overlaid with fine Turkish rugs. In front of the large fireplace was a rug made of sheepskin, on which Phryne intended to recline. The decor was cool greens and gold, reflecting the timber floor, and there was only one painting; a full-length nude holding a jar out of which water was spilling, to fall in a cascade at her feet. It was called ‘La Source’ and it bore a striking resemblance to Phryne herself. Dot disliked this painting intensely.
    Phryne called into the silent house ‘Hello? Anyone here?’ and in answer a stout women in a wrapper fought her way through the bead curtain and said, ‘Well, Miss Fisher, is it? I’m Mrs Butler. The agency sent me. Mr Butler is outside, dealing with the plumber.’
    ‘Phryne Fisher, and this is Miss Dorothy Williams, my personal maid and secretary. What’s wrong with the plumbing?’ asked Phryne, wearily, for she had spent weeks on the design of a luxurious bathroom and indoor WC and she was going to have them no matter what the plumber said. So far he had charged her twice his quoted price and she was minded to become quite harsh with him if the house was not entirely ready, with everything that was supposed to flush, flushing.
    ‘Mr Butler is dealing with him, Miss. You’ll find that it will all be ready tomorrow when you move in, just as you wish,’ soothed Mrs Butler, with a hint of steel in her voice. If she cooked as well as he managed plumbers, Mr and Mrs Butler were going to be a find.
    ‘Now, what about a cup of tea, Miss? I’ve got the kettle on, and perhaps you’d like to see the kitchen, now that it is all finished?’
    ‘Yes, I would, thank you, we’ve had a tiring day, eh, Dot? And more shocks than are good for us, perhaps.’
    Dot followed Phryne through the bead curtain into the kitchen. It was a big room, with a red brick floor and new green gas stove on legs. There were two sinks, newly installed, and a hot-water heater with a permanent flame. Phryne’s new dishes had all been washed and stacked in an old pine dresser, and the window was open onto her neat backyard, with garden furniture and a fernery. The despised outdoor lavatory was newly scrubbed and painted for the use of the domestics.
    Mrs Butler tipped boiling water into the teapot and set it down. Phryne took a chair.
    ‘Well, it all looks nice. How do you think you’ll like it here, Mrs Butler? Is there anything you need?’
    ‘Not so far, Miss. The tradesmen call every morning, and all the appliances work. Nice to have a gas stove. An Aga stove is warm in the winter, and there’s nothing better for bread, but it’s a trial in the summer, to be sure. And the electrical fires are lit, and the real ones, Miss. The house will warm up in a few hours. It will be ready for you tomorrow, with luncheon on the table. Will you be dining in?’
    ‘Yes. I haven’t much on hand at the moment. How about your room, Mrs Butler? I