Chapter One
"Dammit, Phryne, stop it!" he whispered urgently.
"Stop what, Chief Inspector?" she asked with a cheery smile.
"You know perfectly well."
"Sorry, Chief Inspector. I must be very stupid. You'll have to explain."
"You'll be even more stupid when I've brained you with a champagne bottle."
"Now, Chief Inspector, that's very ungracious of you. And how could we not have champagne at such an auspicious occasion?"
"I'd like to know who gave Elizabeth champagne."
"I did, Chief Inspector."
"Phryne, she's barely a year old."
"It was hardly a thimbleful, and the Mercier children have champagne before they receive their mother's milk. I'd call her a late starter, Chief Inspector."
"Right, that's it."
Stifling a giggle, The Honourable Phryne Fisher allowed herself to be grasped firmly by the wrist and dragged from Prudence Stanley's sitting room, where the assembled guests were pretending not to be watching the altercation between the State of Victoria's newest Detective Chief Inspector and his fashionable wife, avidly.
Pulling the door closed behind them, Jack took her by the shoulders and placed her firmly against the wall in the mansion's hallway. The waiting staff drifted to and fro behind him as though they occupied a parallel universe.
Phryne's expression was solemn, but her eyes sparkled with gleeful hilarity. She well knew how little Jack had desired this promotion; but she was also a confidante of the wife of the Chief Commissioner of Police, who had described to her in precise detail the reasons the Chief had made the decision, and ultimately refused to take "No, sir" for an answer.
"Since the Sanderson scandal, Phryne, the reputation of the whole department has been in tatters. It's a testament to your Jack that, despite having once been Sanderson's son-in-law, he's seen as having real integrity."
Indeed, Mary. He even got me to marry him.
People didn't often refer to him as Phryne's Jack. Phryne decided she liked it. She also liked Mrs Cooper; herself a woman of independent means when she'd married William Cooper – then just a rising star – Mary Cooper had proved herself to be of strong mind, which fortunately coincided with that of the Chief Commissioner.
In the meantime, Detective Chief Inspector Jack Robinson was already getting a bit tired of the teasing.
"I realise it's all a joke to you. It isn't to me. I didn't want it when the Chief first offered it, I've had every attempt to refuse it turned down, and I'm now in a position I didn't desire, doing a job I don't want, that might take me away from everything that I most love about half of my waking life; and instead of understanding how I feel about it … you're laughing."
She instantly sobered, and regarded him for a few moments before reaching for one of his hands and pulling him away from the studiously disinterested waiting staff. Strolling casually, to prove that the DCI and Mrs Robinson were merely taking the air, she walked him through the morning room and out of the French windows to the garden; where no-one but the birds were available to listen. Drawing him close behind a faithful, sturdy oak, she grasped his lapels gently and tried to explain.
"I'm laughing because I'm happy, Jack, but I think you're misunderstanding the reason why," she said carefully. "I do know how much you hate the change. Don't think for a moment I don't."
She smiled mistily at him for a moment. "Jack, darling, we might not even have met if you'd had this promotion too soon. How can I not appreciate one of the best strokes of luck I've ever had?"
To emphasise the point, she released him and smoothed his lapels down. Then she gave him a stern look.
"But that's just me. And this isn't about me, Jack, it's about you, and it's about the police force. Bill Cooper needs a DCI. Think about it for a second. Who's he got available to him?"
Jack refused to meet her gaze, but sulkily studied the bamboo fence at the edge of the lawn.
She persisted. "He needs someone he can rely on – to do the job, to inspire the men – and, hopefully, women – he commands."
She skimmed her hands down his arms and took both of his hands in hers, raising them to her lips.
"If he'd promoted anyone else, Jack, you wouldn't have wanted to work for them, would you?"
"That's nonsense," he muttered, "there are some good men …"
"Jack?" he was called out this time by the voice of his conscience, expressed by the person who knew it best.
He didn't need to express his reply in words, but when his shoulders sank in resignation, he pulled on the hands holding his and drew her in. For long minutes, they stood motionless, a study in solidarity.
"Help me?"
"Always."
Whispered, weighty vows; the only witness was the tree affording them shade from the sun overhead.
"Inspector? Er, Chief Inspector?"
A shout from the door of the garden room had them both tensing.
He shrugged, with a wry grin. "I'm guessing that if they'd run out of champagne, they'd be calling for you, not me?"
She squeezed his hand and they reluctantly stepped out of the tree's shade. A waiter was hesitating in the doorway; catching sight of them, he walked briskly across the lawn.
"Sorry, sir, but this came for you?" As he spoke he was proffering an envelope. Jack took it and scanned the address, but the typescript offered few clues. Turning it over, he slit it open with his finger, and drew out a single sheet of paper.
The same typescript adorned the page in beautiful symmetry. The message was … less beautiful.
"GAME'S UP, ROBINSON. ANOTHER BENT COPPER BITES THE DUST. DO AS I TELL YOU OR KISS YOUR CAREER GOODBYE. INSTRUCTIONS TO FOLLOW."