New Steps
Rating: T. Story contains reference to incest.
Author: Firebird9
Many thanks to all the people who have taken the time to review my fics: your words bring me much happiness. This story follows on directly from 'Break My Heart Tomorrow' and assumes a (very recently) established relationship between Phryne and Jack. If you haven't already, you may want to read that fic first, but it probably isn't essential.
A little over half an hour after Constable Collins had first reached him at Phryne Fisher's house, Detective Inspector Jack Robinson arrived at the crime scene beside the Yarra, driven at a bracing clip by a high-spirited Phryne. When they finally came to a halt and he was able to tumble out he resisted the urge to kiss the ground and instead walked around to offer her his arm. She raised one eyebrow at him in question, and he reflected that perhaps they should have discussed this before they left. Of course, that had been his intention – and the reason why he had told Collins they would be there in half an hour rather than a more reasonable fifteen minutes – but they had become somewhat distracted upon returning to her room to retrieve his jacket and tie. In a frantic and thoroughly enjoyable ten minutes of passionate lovemaking they had succeeded in throwing the bed Dot had only just made back into disarray, and lost any opportunity to discuss how exactly the recent change in their personal relationship might impact on their professional lives.
"I would prefer it if we were discreet at work," he told her softly, "but I have no intention of treating you as a dirty secret."
She felt her lips curve into a smile at his words. She had worried that he might prefer to keep things quiet, at least for the moment. And whilst she wouldn't necessarily have objected, such a secret could have left him in particular vulnerable to professional repercussions were it to be revealed at an inopportune moment.
So she hooked her arm through his and fell into step beside him as they approached the area where Collins and another uniformed officer stood watch over a shrouded bundle whilst a third officer took photographs.
"Good morning Inspector, Miss Fisher." Collins nodded to them both.
"Good morning, Constable. Now, what's so 'unusual' about this victim that you felt the need to summon me on my day off?"
"Yes sir." Collins bent over the body and lifted the sheet, peeling it back. "You can see for yourself, sir."
The man was naked from the waist up. At some point either before or just after his death, someone had carved a series of large, angular letters deep into his chest.
"Well," Phryne remarked dryly, "I would say that qualifies as unusual." She and Jack exchanged glances, then moved apart and crouched down, one on either side of the victim.
"'AMNON'," Jack read aloud. "Any idea what it means?"
"None, sir," Collins answered. "Uh, I suppose it could be a misspelling of 'anon'. You know, as in anonymous-"
"An accurate enough description of the victim," Phryne interjected.
"For the moment, at least," Jack agreed.
Collins gave a slightly nervous chuckle. "Yes, miss. It could also be two words, 'am none', maybe, if the killer were interrupted before he could complete the 'e'. Or it could be foreign, or a name perhaps..."
"It's not German," Jack remarked. "At least, not that I recognise." He glanced up at Phryne. "Miss Fisher?" He knew she had at least a working knowledge of a number of languages, but this time she shook her head.
"Sorry, Jack, but it doesn't ring any bells. Collins may be right, though; it does sound like it could be a name."
"Not that that helps us much. If it is a name, I doubt it's the victim's, and I'd be even more surprised if it's the killer's." He frowned at the body. "I'm not seeing an obvious cause of death. Collins?"
"The victim suffered a severe blow to the back of the head, sir."
"Which could either have been the cause of death, or simply rendered him unconscious until he drowned in the water." He sighed, and looked at Phryne again. "What do you think, Miss Fisher; did these injuries occur before or after death?"
"Hmm," she considered, picking up the victim's wrist. "Well, there are no ligature marks, so he wasn't tied up. If they were inflicted before death, he must have already been unconscious from the blow to the head: I can't imagine anyone voluntarily permitting themselves to be cut up like this. Beyond that, I suppose we'll have to wait for the coroner to tell us how much blood the victim lost."
"Mmm." Jack briefly probed the victim's chest with a gloved hand, spreading the sides of one of the lacerations. "These wounds are deep. If he was still alive at the time, he would have bled profusely." The sound of an engine approaching alerted them to the arrival of the ambulance, and Jack and Phryne stood. "We'd like to see the back of his head," Jack asked as the attendants arrived. They nodded and heaved the body over.
"That was quite a blow," Phryne remarked. The back of the head bore a large indentation, hair matted with blood, the bone shattered, brain matter visible. Beside them, Collins gagged and moved away slightly. She glanced over at Jack and raised an eyebrow. "Not exactly how I pictured our morning ending," she remarked wryly.