Positively, Absolutely and How?
Chapter 1
They rushed from Jack's black police vehicle toward the house. Miss Fisher was in the lead, and she reached the gate for number 16 first. The beautifully seen to garden led to an elaborate front entrance, the door of which was ajar.
"We're too late Jack," she murmured fearfully to the inspector at her heel, "He's here."
Jack pulled out his gun, his expression morphing to a stern determination to get to and arrest O'Malley before he claimed poor Iris Chapman's life, just as he'd claimed the lives of three other young women before her.
"Go back to the car, Miss Fisher." He murmured, stepping around her carefully.
"Jack I-"
He risked a glance back to her and met her eyes quickly. "Phryne," he pleaded softly, "Please."
Their partnership of sorts had turned to a romantic relationship some weeks ago now, and though they had both worked their damnedest to stop that fact changing anything in their working relationship, they both struggled when it came to facing these dangers. And so although Miss Fisher nodded easily, dared to press the briefest of kisses to Jack's lips and turned on her heel to walk back toward the car, she had absolutely no intention of not following him into that building.
She watched carefully as Jack slowly eased the front door of Mrs Chapman's residence open, saw him step quietly inside, and she waited, a full two minutes of unbearable restraint mixed with some fear and anticipation. After that time she stood easily, her fingers itching and quickly grasping her purse for the pearl handled pistol she'd carried with her constantly since this case begun.
She slipped down the street and through the gate, and then stepped up to the house all as quietly and quickly as she could manage. The door stood open, and she stepped inside with her ears perked for the smallest of sounds, her eyes quickly darting around, assessing her surroundings.
Distant murmurings of male voices came from upstairs, so, pistol raised, Miss Fisher eased skilfully up the stairs, closer and closer until she could make out the words being said.
"There's no getting out of this Inspector, no stopping me!" O'Malley growled,
"I'm giving you one last chance, O'Malley. Where is Mrs Chapman?"
Miss Fisher crept slowly along the corridor, keeping low and steady as she moved closer to the voices inside what she'd hazard a guess as Mrs Chapman's boudoir. The door to this room stood wide open, and Miss Fisher paused carefully just beyond it, trying to listen, to judge where they might be within the room before she risked glancing around the frame.
"You can't save her," their killer was saying, "I saw you and your tart pull up on the street, but you're too late. My pretty little Iris is long gone from here; you'll never find her."
"I wouldn't be so sure about that," Jack murmured,
O'Malley laughed, "Oh but I would! And do you know why, Inspector, do you know why they'll never find her?"
Miss Fisher steadied her breath and her pistol and poked her head quickly around the door, glancing into the room.
Jack stood backed into a corner next to a large mirror and ornate dresser, O'Malley stood before him, his back to the door and Miss Fisher, but his large gait blocking Jack's view of her too. In his hand he held Jack's gun, the room too showed signs of a struggle. O'Malley must have caught Jack by surprise as he searched the house, and wrestled the gun from his hands.
"Why?" Jack asked,
O'Malley laughed again, "Because they'll be too busy trying to find your body to care!"
Phryne was standing and stepping into that boudoir in an instant, her pistol directed straight at O'Malley's back.
"Don't you dare," she whispered harshly and O'Malley turned wildly.
Jack paled, gaping at her desperately. "Phryne," he whispered.
"Oh!" O'Malley exclaimed happily, "Look at that, your tart has come to save you! How precious." He stepped back, and without taking his gaze away from Phryne's pressed the barrel of Jack's own gun against the Inspector's temple.
Smiling serenely O'Malley spoke plain and simply, "You have five seconds to put down that pistol and kick it under the bed before I shoot your darling detective in the head. One. Two."
Phryne submitted. Her grasp on her pistol relaxed and she held her hands to Heaven as slowly she knelt down and placed the pistol to the floor, pushing it out of her reachable distance, toward the bed.
"There's a good girl, now stand up." Phryne stood. "Hands on that pretty little head of yours. Oh my, oh my, I see why he lets you dawdle along with him." Gun still pressed to Jack's head O'Malley licked his lips. "Turn around,"
Phryne did as requested, and O'Malley grinned, his dark with a desire that made Miss Fisher physically resist the urge to retch.
"I have a proposal for you," He announced, "A swap, of sorts."
"I'm listening."
"You offer yourself to me, and in exchange I let your Detective friend run free, as long as he, of course, lends us his car. Or else I let you turn yourself around and run over the road to try call the Inspector's little police friends to save him, by which time I will have undoubtedly shot him already and be well on my way to escaping." He chuckled, "What do you say?"
"Phryne, go, run-"
"Yes." Phryne whispered stiffly, not letting herself tear her eyes away from O'Malley's smug face to look at Jack's distraught one.
The gun moved from Jack's temple to point across the room at Miss Fisher. O'Malley pushed Jack forcefully to the ground and walked across the room quickly, grabbing Miss Fisher around the waist, leering against her ear as with his other hand he pressed the end of Jack's gun under the lady's chin.
"Phryne," Jack exclaimed, reaching for her.
O'Malley tutted, "Uh-uh-uh; don't you move a muscle, Inspector. Not until you hear us drive away, or else my finger might just slip over this trigger and your darling little tart will be no more."
"I'm sorry Jack," Phryne whispered
O'Malley began to lead her away, pulling her backward toward the door to the corridor, but they hadn't so much as taken a step from the boudoir when Miss Fisher heard a gun cock somewhere behind her.
"Hands in the air," said a calm and gratifyingly familiar voice.
Eyes darting from Jack's tear filled ones Phryne caught sight of Hugh Collins in her peripheries, and he held a gun to O'Malley's head.
"I'll kill her!" O'Malley yelled, and Phryne yelped as his grip around her tightened, the gun pressing harder into her chin forcing her head up slightly.
"Not before I kill you."
O'Malley started, looking from Collins to see Jack had taken advantage of his distraction to retrieve Phryne's pistol from by the bed, and was now pointing it directly between his eyes.
"Let. Her. Go."
Something in Jack's harsh gaze and dangerous tone made O'Malley give in. He released Miss Fisher and held his gun loosely in the air until the Constable took it from him and pulled his arms down, handcuffing and arresting him quickly.
Phryne turned around, breathing quickly and deeply in relief. She looked O'Malley in the eye, and then sharply raised her knee pointedly between his legs until he howled and cursed at her wildly.
"Take him away, Hugh." She said cheerily, "No need to be too careful with him on the stairs."
"Actually, Constable," Jack cut in, "I'll take Mr O'Malley here back to the station. I'd like you to escort Miss Fisher home, and take her statement of events."
Hugh nodded, "Of course sir."
Phryne frowned, but hadn't the chance to question Jack's orders before Hugh was leading her safely down the stairs and out to the police car he'd parked directly behind Jack's. He drove her obediently back to her St Kilda residence and sat with her in the parlour to take her statement while Dot sat in, gasping terribly and clutching Miss Phryne's hand as the tale was told.
"Weren't you scared, Miss? Sacrificing yourself to him?"
"Not in the slightest, Dot." Phryne lied, "I had everything under control. I knew Hugh here would be on his way."
"And the girl, Iris, did you find her? Was she in the house?"
"No, Dottie." Hugh murmured, "We don't know where she is."
Dot frowned worriedly, "That poor woman."
"Don't worry Dot," Phryne said, "That beastly O'Malley is in custody now, and he seemed scared enough of Jack by the end, I'm sure he'll give up the girl's location." She wrapped an arm around the girl's back and squeezed her shoulder reassuringly, "Why don't you see Constable Collins out, I need a drink, and then perhaps a bath."
Dot and Hugh stood and walked out of the parlour, leaving Phryne alone until, by some kind of magic Phryne had yet to understand, Mr Butler appeared with the perfect cocktail for the situation prepared and ready for her.
"Wonderful, thank you, Mr Butler." She smiled, taking the drink and sipping the unknown but perfectly delicious concoction.
She carried the drink upstairs with her to her boudoir, Dot had already begun to fill the bath in the corner and Phryne stripped easily from her clothes, and sat naked on her large bed, waiting contentedly with her drink until the bath was ready for her. She sank into the perfumed water and stayed there until her fingers had pruned, then rose again and dressed in the fresh clothes Dot had laid out on the bed for her.
Stepping downstairs Miss Fisher was offered another drink, which she accepted, an informed that the Inspector had called. Iris Chapman, he had relayed to Dot, was found alive and well having become paranoid of O'Malley and sought refuge at her sister's house.
It was well after dinner when there was a knock at the door, and Mr Butler welcomed in the Inspector to see Phryne.
Dot and Jane had already retired to their beds, but Phryne had sat up, reading in her parlour. She jumped to her feet however, as Mr Butler announced her guest, then the moment he was gone she closed the distance between herself and Jack and kissed him fully on the mouth.
He returned her kiss, one hand coming to lightly rest on the small of her back. But they pulled apart easily and Phryne stepped away, pouring them each a drink before leading Jack over to sit.
"O'Malley confessed," Jack said, "To all three murders."
"And Iris?"
"Perfectly okay. She's going to stay with her sister until her husband returns from Sydney."
"Wonderful." Phryne smiled at their success, an innocent woman saved and a murdered behind bars, sure to get the noose for his efforts. She raised her glass toward Jack, "To Iris."
"Iris," he pressed his glass gently against hers with a tinkling clink, and they both drank.
"And," Phryne said, "To Constable Hugh Collins."
Jack repeated her and they drank again, "How did you know Collins would arrive at the Chapman house?" Jack asked her carefully after a moment.
"I didn't. Well, not completely. I asked Dot to call him before we rushed out to your car. I hoped she had managed to get through to him but-"
"But you couldn't know for certain." Jack finished, glaring down into his glass. He lifted it and drank the remaining alcohol in one large gulp, "It's late, and I have a busy day ahead tomorrow." He stood.
Phryne frowned, "You're not leaving, are you Jack?"
She set her glass aside and stood with him, "Surely, darling, it would make more sense for you to spend the night here."
Jack glanced at her and sighed.
"All right." He said simply. He didn't have the energy.
Phryne smiled, bent to collect her glass, then stepped forward and took Jack's hand in her spare one, leading him easily through the house and up the stairs to her boudoir.
Once there she set her glass down on her vanity and turned to face the morose policeman behind her. Slowly she moved closer still to him, her hands moving to his tie, pulling it loose with practiced ease. As the tie slid from around his neck and fell abandoned on the floor, Phryne tilted her chin up and captured the Inspector's lips in a sweet kiss. Today had been a difficult day; a frightening and emotional toll on the both of them and Phryne new of one certain way to make it all disappear.
She pushed at his jacket, sliding from his shoulders until it too fell to the floor, and her fingers started on his shirt buttons.
"Phryne," turned his head away from her kisses, his hands coming to rest over hers, stilling them.
"Jack," she smirked, her mouth trailing careful little nips along the length of his neck.
He tightened his grip on her hands at his chest and stepped back, out of her reach, "I'm staying here to sleep, Phryne. Just sleep."
Phryne pouted, "Where's the fun in that, Jack?"
"I'm too tired; we've had a... long day. I'll make it up to you another time, please."
"All right." Phryne sighed, and she pressed her lips just briefly to his before removing her hands from Jack's shirt to pull at her own clothes. Stripping down carefully to her camiknickers Phryne stepped back to her vanity and finished her drink.
Jack undid the buttons of his shirt himself, avoiding Miss Fisher's gaze. He removed his cufflinks silently, then pulled the shirt off and carefully laid it over the vanity chair, setting the cufflinks next to Phryne's empty glass.
Phryne sat on the bed, pulling down her silk stockings. She met Jack's eye and raised an artfully drawn eyebrow in not so subtle invitation.
"Phryne," He said, "Please, I do not wish to be seduced tonight. Not after today."
"Why not after today?" Phryne demanded, "I can hardly think of anything better to do after seeing a madman hold a gun to your head, than make love to you and reiterate to myself how truly alive you still are. I think I deserve that."
Jack looked at her, really looked at her, trying to understand how her mind could work so differently from his own.
"And what about me, Phryne? What about seeing you not only held at gunpoint by a madman, but watch as you gave yourself to him. Offered yourself in place of me." He hadn't meant to yell, hadn't even noticed his tone raise at all. But the silence as he stopped rang in his ears, and the look on Phryne's face, the stunned open shock...
"Jack..." She stood, reaching for him, trying to press her body close to his, to bring him into her arms and comfort him with her hold, her kisses. "Jack I'm perfectly fine. I'm right here, darling."
He tensed under her touch. "I know you, Phryne." He murmured, "I saw the fear in your eyes as he dragged you away."
"I can't take it back, darling, I can't start this day again. All I know is that you're safe, and I'm safe, and we're together again. Why not enjoy ourselves, while we can?"
Jack glowered at her, "While we can?" He repeated, "You followed me into that house when I asked you not to and then you put yourself into his hands. He would have killed you and you're talking about 'while we can'. There shouldn't be need for that kind of thinking Phryne. I shouldn't have to spend each day terrified you'll go too far. Take a wrong gamble. You are going to get yourself killed, just as you almost did today!"
He paced away from her, seething. But Phryne remained still, seemingly composed, though Jack could see her small hands forming fists at her sides, shaking ever so slightly as she stared him down.
"He would have killed you too, Jack, I had to do something."
"Perhaps he might have," he snapped back, "but I'm damn sure the likelihood of that increased tenfold the moment you walked into the room!"
Phryne marched across the room and slapped him.
"How dare you," she whispered dangerously, "I would never put you in that kind of danger, Jack. Not deliberately."
"Of course not deliberately, life threatening danger is just an inevitable by-product of being associated with you."
Phryne glared up at him. "Get out." She breathed. "Un-associate yourself from me if that's what you so want."
Jack gaped, stepping back under the power and hurt in Phryne's harsh gaze. But he would not back down to her, no matter how he instantly regretted his words that so clearly crossed the line in Phryne's mind.
"You know I don't want that." He told her as she retrieved his shirt and jacket, pushing them both into his arms. "But I cannot stand for your unreasonable recklessness anymore."
"Leave!" Phryne told him, now pushing him to the door and following closely as he stepped from her boudoir. Neither noticed Dot peering from around the door of her own room, neither cared.
"Phryne we need to talk on this!"
She began to shove him down the corridor, "We don't need to talk on anything, John. Now go! Leave my house, now; before I have Mr Butler escort you!"
"Phryne!" he yelled, grasping her small wrists and pulling her hands from him, "You're being ridiculous and melodramatic."
"Get out!"
And finally Jack gave in, pulling his rumpled clothes on over his undershirt, not bothering with buttons as he walked down the stairs; Phryne chasing quickly behind him, not sparing a thought or a care for the fact she was dressed in just her camiknickers.
Wordlessly collecting his hat and overcoat Jack moved to the front door and unlocked it, swinging it open and stepped out.
Phryne stared angrily through her frustrated tears and watched in the faint moonlight as Jack moved to his car. The engine started, and soon he was pulling onto the street and driving down the road. Resolutely ignoring the pain in her chest Phryne swung the front door shut with a slam and locked it once more before she stepped into her parlour, grasped the neck of her decanter, and headed back up the stairs.
"Miss?"
Dot stepped from her room, hair tied loosely at her back, dressed in a floor length nightdress, looking concerned and tired.
"I'm sorry Dot. I didn't mean to wake you." Phryne told her, "Go back to sleep."
"Are you all right, Miss?"
"Certainly." Miss Fisher gave Dot a small and fake smile, "I'll see you in the morning, Dot."