Jean looked up at the kitchen clock, Lucien would be back soon for dinner. He had no ongoing cases at the morgue and he had only one house call to make. She put the plates on the table and started to lay the cutlery out ready, when there was a knock at the door.

'Coming!' She called, brightly taking her apron off on her way out of the kitchen and throwing it over the hatch.

Opening the door she saw two men, one a uniformed police officer she did not know and the other plain clothed.

'Good afternoon,' she greeted them, pleasantly, 'how can I help?'

'Mrs Beazley?' Questioned the plain clothed man.

'I was. Mrs Blake now.' She smiled.

'Detective Sergeant Saunders, this is Constable Wood.' He introduced them, 'may we come in?'

'Er, yes.' She became wary, they had called her Mrs Beazley and now they wanted to come in.

'Is there anyone else here?' Saunders asked.

'My husband, Dr Blake, is due back any moment.' She showed them into the living room.

'Perhaps we should wait.' Saunders said, seriously, a flash of disappointment across his face.

'What's happened?' She was worried now, was it one of the boys? Before she could ask she heard Lucien come through the door and call,

'Jean, I'm back!' He rounded the corner and stopped. 'Oh, hello.'

Saunders and Wood stood up and introduced themselves.

'What can I do for you, gentlemen?' Lucien asked, sitting next to Jean.

'Actually, sir,' Saunders said, 'it's your wife we're here to see.' He turned to Jean,

'Mrs Blake you have a son, Jack?'

'Yes.' Jean reached for Lucien's hand and gripped it tight.

'I'm sorry, Mrs Blake,' as he spoke the colour drained from her face, 'we have found him, in Broken Hill, he was beaten to death.'

The room spun round as Jean started to slide off the couch, only to be caught by her husband and lifted back and laid down on it. Lucien looked up,

'Are you sure it's him?' He asked as he tended to his wife.

'That's the name in the wallet he was carrying. His face was badly damaged, but we are sure.' Wood passed the wallet over, it contained a driving license in the name of Jack Beazley but no cash. A letter from Jean was folded neatly with it, one she had written to wish him Happy Birthday.

Jean stirred back to consciousness and moaned.

'I want to see him.' She whispered, tears starting to fall.

'Mrs Blake...'

'He's my son.' She continued, stubbornly. 'I need to see him.'

'We can arrange it, but I have to warn you...' Saunders said, sympathetically. 'Do you know what he was doing in Broken Hill?'

'Working,' Jean sniffed and tried to regain her composure, 'on a sheep farm.'

'Right. I am sorry, Mrs Blake.' Saunders repeated.

'I'll arrange for us to get there.' Lucien said, 'Train and fly will be quickest.'

'Lucien,' Jean whispered.

'It's alright, my dear.' He said gently. 'Leave it to me.' He saw the officers out and said he would contact them when they arrived.

Back in the living room Jean sat staring into space, Jack, dead? It must be a mistake, it had to be! Lucien looked at her and his heart broke, no matter what their differences were she and Jack were mother and son, and that bond could never be broken. He went and poured her a whisky, not her usual tipple but when she was upset she had been known to indulge.

She looked up at him and then at the glass, 'Lucien, it must be a mistake. They said his face...' She couldn't bear to think of her son's handsome features damaged, even if he did use them to get the girls.

'Well, we'll see.' He said, sitting beside her and putting her hand round the glass. 'I'm going to book the train and flight, it's a bit of a trek, tiring. Then I'll tell Matthew I'm not available for a week, at least.'

'I suppose I'd better pack.' She inhaled deeply and drank the whisky, coughing as it went down.

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The journey was long and tedious, Jean tried so hard not to cry in public but there were times she couldn't help it. Lucien sat with his arm round her at all times, occasionally kissing her head. There was nothing he could say to comfort her so he just kept her close. She slept on the flight, exhausted. Lucien didn't really want her to see Jack and was going to suggest he do it, confirm it was Jack. A beaten face and an empty wallet was not enough proof for him and he had asked Jean if there was another identifying mark should it be necessary.

'He has a scar on his left shoulder blade.' She gave a small smile, 'he jumped out of a tree and fell badly. He ended up with a tear in his skin, it's about four inches long and shaped like a dog leg. But, Lucien, he's my son, I need to see him, I need to be sure.'

'Sounds like Jack.' He had said, 'always into mischief.'

'Oh yes.' She had told him tales of Jack's misadventures over their time together.

They took a taxi to the police station to meet Saunders and Wood who were handling the case. Lucien paid the fare and took their suitcase as they went to let them know they had arrived. While they waited to be taken to the morgue they noticed how busy the station was, with comings and goings, either that or there had been a crime wave! Jean held Lucien's hand all the time as if to reassure herself she was really sitting waiting in a police station when suddenly Lucien leapt up. Jean had her back to the door and could only assume that Saunders or Wood had arrived. He let go of Jean's hand,

'Bloody hell!' He exclaimed, 'Jack!'

Jean's head whipped round as she heard her 'dead' son's voice,

'Doc, what're you doing here?' Jack was not overjoyed to see Blake, given their last meeting, but when he looked past him he gasped to see his mother's tear streaked face, 'Mum!'

She jumped up and flung her arms round him, 'Jack, is it really you?' She stood back as if to make sure she wasn't dreaming, 'They told me you were dead. Beaten to death.'

'How..?' Jack scratched his head as his mother wrapped her arms round him again.

Lucien guided them back to the bench seat, 'They found a body and your wallet was in his pocket. They only found your mother because of the letter in it. His face is badly beaten so I suppose they only had that to go on.'

'I reported my wallet stolen last week.' Jack put his arm round Jean, 'I was coming to see if there was any news.'

Lucien's face darkened, 'So if they'd checked first then your mother would not have had to go through this.'

Wood arrived to greet them. Jean leapt up her brow creased with fury,

'You bloody idiots!' She screamed, 'you stupid incompetent fools. Call yourself police officers, and, where is he 'Detective' Saunders?'

Woods eyes widened with astonishment and he tried to speak.

'This is my son!' She wasn't going to stop, Jack and Lucien sat back and folded their arms, they knew when to keep quiet, 'alive and well, as you can see! His wallet was reported stolen, even in a place like Ballarat that would be common knowledge in the station. All you had to check was lost property reports. Now some other poor woman has to identify her son's body, or his wife.'

'Mrs Blake...' Wood didn't know how to start, but Saunders came to the front desk. He had heard Jean's rant and had tried to think of something to say before he spoke to her.

'Mrs Blake...' but he got no further, either.

'Call yourself a detective?' She exploded at him, 'I know junior constables that have more idea than you! Basic policing, that's all it was. Do you have any idea of the hell I've been through? Do you even care? To be told your son is dead, murdered!'

'I can only apologise,' he murmured in a small voice, she was right, it was a complete screw up.

'Apologise! Apologise!' Jean was, at last, lost for words. Lucien stood up, knowing that now it was safe for him to intervene.

'I'd like to see the body,' he said, firmly, 'I am a police surgeon. I would also like to speak to your pathologist, your superior officer and the officers who found the body.' He was not going to stand any nonsense. He turned to Jack and Jean.

'Jack, would you take your mother over to the hotel and book us in, please.' He smiled, 'I'll join you later.' Jack nodded and started to escort his mother out, 'Jack,' Lucien called, 'Good to see you, alive and well.'

'Ta Doc.' He grinned and headed out with his mother.

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Lucien strode into the mortuary. He hadn't said anything to the officers who had put his wife through the worst hell imaginable, if they'd been Matthew's men he'd have had them demoted to traffic duty for the rest of their days. Saunders hadn't even looked particularly sorry when he'd offered his apology to Jean.

He was introduced to the surgeon, a local man who doubled his position as GP with police surgeon duties, much as Lucien did. The man before him looked careworn and uninterested in the case. He had done the autopsy on the body but that was where his involvement ended, as far as he was concerned. He wheeled out the body and left Lucien to it with his pathologist, a doctor from the hospital with a little more interest.

'So where was he found?' Lucien asked.

'Behind the pub.' the pathologist read from the notes, 'between two bins.'

'Hidden, a deliberate act.' Lucien started to examine the body, the pathologist watched him. He was impressed with the care this new doctor took.

'It looks like he was purposefully beaten about the face to hide his identity.' The pathologist observed.

'Quite possibly, er...' Lucien looked at the man, 'I'm sorry, we weren't introduced, I'm Dr Lucien Blake, Ballarat Police Surgeon.' He smiled.

'Oh, er, yes. Pleased to meet you.' His colleague returned the smile, 'Dr James Harvey.'

'Well, I shan't forget your name,' Lucien laughed, 'the pathologist I usually work with is Dr Alice Harvey, not related are you?'

'I don't think so.' James replied.

They got to work. Lucien opened up the body again after an external examination yielded nothing more than he already knew. As usual he wanted to know the exact cause of death, the other surgeon had just stated death was due to a beating. But Lucien wanted to know exactly which blow had killed him. In the end he had a choice of two, either the blow to the back of the head, where he had obviously been thrown against the wall flattening the skull or the rib that had pierced his heart. He was fairly sure that both had happened almost simultaneously. The next thing to look at was the blood samples and toxicology report. He had not been drinking, and there was no sign of any drugs in his system but the level of lead in his system was high. The chances were he was an itinerant, working in the lead mines. Lucien asked to see the clothes he was wearing. He and James examined every inch of the shirt and trousers. Lucien took a magnifying glass and peered at a mark on the chest area; he waved James over,

'See here,' He pointed to the mark, 'what do you make of that?'

'Looks like a hand print,' he mused, 'or at least part of one.' James looked at him, 'pushed, hard; very hard; into the wall, smashing his skull and a final kick? to the chest to break the ribs.'

'Exactly right.' Lucien agreed, 'but who did it?'

'Ay, there's the rub.' James pondered.

'Hamlet,' Lucien noted, 'the soliloquy.'

James smiled, his hobby was Shakespeare, listening to and reading the plays and poetry of the bard.

'Now what?' James asked.

'It's up to the police to do their job.' Lucien removed his white coat, 'ours is done.'

'Well after this fiasco, and it isn't the first, do you really think it can be left to this shower?' James was frank in his assessment of the local officers.

Lucien did not comment, Broken Hill was not in his jurisdiction, it was up to the New South Wales commissioner. In fact there would probably be hell to pay when they found out that a Police Surgeon from a Victorian station had meddled in their case.

'James,' he turned to the pathologist, 'you will have to call it in. I'm not authorised to do any of what I have done today, but my wife has had to live for two days with the thought that her son had been murdered. That is not an acceptable situation, it is sloppy police work.'

Lucien put his jacket on.

'You say this isn't the first such eventuality?' He stopped at the door.

'No,' James also took off his white coat, 'there was another case last month. Saunders was officer in charge. A lad beaten up and left by the mine. His family weren't found, buried in a pauper's grave and the case closed.'

'James,' Lucien grinned, 'join us for dinner.'

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'How are you, Jack?' Jean asked as he walked with her to the hotel.

'Well,' he grinned, his familiar cheeky grin, 'for a dead man, surprisingly well.'

She batted at him with her hand, 'Don't be silly.'

'I'm fine, mum, really.' He pulled her hand through his arm, 'you?'

'Very well, now.' She smiled.

'Happy?'

'Oh Jack.' She positively beamed, 'I am so happy, for the first time for so long.' She stopped and turned to face him, 'please, Jack, Lucien...'

'Did what he had to do,' Jack looked at her, 'I did myself no favours, mum, I realise that, now.'

'So you will visit?' She looked hopeful, 'and dine with us tonight?' Her face pleaded with him.

'I'd love to.'

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Lucien found his wife having tea in the lounge with her son. He was delighted to see she was chatting happily with Jack, over tea.

'Hello you two.' He bent to kiss Jean.

'Lucien,' She smiled, 'at last. You're not on your own patch you know.'

'You're quite right, my dear.' he agreed, winking at Jack. 'But this, apparently, isn't the first time this has happened.' He turned,

'This is James Harvey, no relation we think, he's the pathologist.' He introduced the man standing a little away from them.

'I must apologise for my husband,' Jean smiled at the young man, 'he's a bit like a terrier, worries everything and can't resist a puzzle.'

James smiled and sat opposite Jean, 'Actually, Mrs Blake, I'm glad he's here. I've been concerned about some cases that seem to be pushed aside, covered even.'

'Well if anyone's going to get to the bottom of things, it'll be the doc.' Said Jack, and everyone stared at him, 'he won't stop until he gets the answer.'

'Really?' James grinned, 'just the chap I could do with.'

'Yep,' Jack smiled, 'even accused me, once.'

'Jack I...' Lucien stuttered, embarrassed.

'He's a little more thoughtful, these days.' Jean smiled and squeezed her husband's hand.

'Er, right.' James looked confused.

'Long story,' Lucien smiled.

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Dinner turned out to be more amusing than Lucien thought. James had plenty of stories of cases and life in Broken Hill. Although life in Broken Hill wasn't that exciting. Jean put her hand over her mouth to stifle a yawn. She hadn't slept properly since the visit of Saunders and Wood and it was catching up with her.

'I'm sorry, gentlemen.' she smiled, 'I'm afraid the past few days has caught up with me.' She slid her chair back and stood up, the men followed suit.

'Goodnight, mum.' Jack kissed her cheek.

'Goodnight, Mrs Blake.' James smiled and shook her hand.

Lucien leaned to her and took her arm, 'I'll be up shortly, sweetheart,' he whispered, and he, too, kissed her cheek.

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They were at breakfast the next morning when the waiter came over with a note for Lucien. He read it in silence then looked at Jean.

'Looks like you might get to spend some time with Jack.' He passed the note to her. It was a record of a message from the New South Wales commissioner. He had had a call from James Harvey the night before and had asked Lucien to take the case. There was a number for him to ring to discuss details.

'Looks like someone's been checking up on you, darling' she smiled. 'But surely they should be sending in some independent police, not a police surgeon?'

'Mm...' Lucien looked thoughtful. 'Will you be alright for a moment, while I go and make the call?'

'I'll be fine. Pass the newspaper.' She poured herself some more tea and watched him go to see if he could use the hotel phone. She had finished reading the paper, as James had said, it was a quiet town.

'I'm not going to be on my own,' Lucien sat down opposite her, 'Charlie and Ned are coming to investigate. The commissioner is an old friend of Matthew's, he rang him...'

'...and the rest is history.' Jean laughed. 'Well they won't be here until tonight. Do we need to book their rooms?'

'Yes, I'm going to see James.' He grinned at her.

'Lucien, you might need this.' She handed him Jack's wallet, 'Saunders gave it to me when he came to the house.'

'It'll be covered in fingerprints, yours included.' He held out his handkerchief. 'I'll have to take them for elimination purposes.'

'Of course. I don't want preferential treatment.'

'...and Jack's.' At this he looked thoughtful.

'He'll understand, after all you don't want a set of unidentified prints, and surely you'll be taking Saunders' and Wood's.' Jean smiled gently at him, she understood his reticence at this.

'True.' He stood up and extended his hand to her. 'I'm afraid I'll have to leave you to your own devices. I'll see you here for lunch.'

'Alright, I'll book rooms for the boys, shall I?' She took his hand.

'Please.' He kissed her cheek and left her to do the bookings and then entertain herself for the morning.

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So what is going on in Broken Hill? What was supposed to be a short story has grown legs, again!