ONE OF A KIND
Hope you enjoy
x
Disclaimer: I own nothing, I love Jack and Phryne together and I wish, so dearly, that they would do so in the show.
. . .
"A black Studebaker, Miss?" Constable Collins checked as he wrote down the details.
"Yes Hugh."
"And what was the registration number again?"
Phryne repeated the registration number to Hugh for the third time. The police station was exactly how it always was, just a little too quiet and smelling strongly of bad tea and cheap cigarettes. Phryne pulled out her own cigarette and took a long drag as she continued to go over what had happened with the Constable.
"That's the second gunfight you've gotten yourself into in two days Miss Fisher."
Phryne turned to see Jack standing in the doorway to his office. When she'd arrived the door had been shut. His eyes told her he was less than impressed. It appeared Phryne had already forgotten their little chat, he thought hopelessly. She simply shrugged her shoulders as if to say it wasn't any fault of her's.
"And what were you doing outside a crime scene in the first place?"
"It's not a crime to be outside a crime scene, is it?" she said innocently, her smile mischievous. She scolded herself and her smile disappeared. No charm.
"No, Miss Fisher, I suppose it isn't."
Phryne smiled and had to scold herself again. Perhaps this would be harder than she had originally thought.
"Anyway boys," she smiled in the most friendly and not charming manner she could managed, "I better be off. Give me a call when you find the owner of the vehicle?" She aimed her question, and charm, towards Hugh. But being Hugh, he looked to Jack for an answer.
"Perhaps Miss Fisher," Jack answered.
Phryne shrugged, supposing that was the best she could ask for, and showed herself out. Maybe her plan needed revising. Trying not to flirt was much too difficult. Certainly a little flirting couldn't be all that bad?
.
Phryne breezed into her abode with a plan to lounge with one of Mr Butler's potions, disguised as a cocktail, and Delilah's correspondence. This plan was interrupted by a visitor who, Dot instructed, was Mrs Brown, Delilah's mother. Phryne had met the woman before and could honestly say the idea of having to converse with her did not excite her in the least. She was once again thankful that most of her family lived very far away across a very large sea.
"Mrs Brown," Phryne exclaimed, managing to scrape some happiness up into her tone. "Such a pity to have to see you again under such circumstances." Or at all, Phryne added to herself.
"Phryne," the woman sighed.
She was the typical woman of her class so it really was no wonder that she annoyed Phryne to such an end. And, despite Phryne's age, she was sure to never treat her as a grown-up until she walked down the isle. As Phryne would never do so, she would always be viewed as a child.
Phryne wondered why the lady was sitting in her parlor and not at her daughter's beside. Something, she noted, to look into.
The conversation went as expected, Mrs Brown pleading that Miss Fisher find whoever it was who had tried to kill her daughter. The woman, however, was missing a certain conviction usually found in worried mothers.
Something, Phryne thought, was certainly off.
When the woman left, Phryne sprawled herself across the loveseat. She remembered, briefly, that the last person she'd sat on the couch with had been Jack Robinson. Mr Butler placed in her hand a cocktail, pink this time, and left her to her thoughts. Looking at the ground, Phryne was reminded of her dream, where her and Jack had ended up just in that spot, hands groping, tracing, lips searching…
Phryne took a very deep breath and draining her cocktail in an unladylike manner.
She was just opening the first of the letters when the telephone rang. "What now?" she asked allowed.
"Detective-Inspector Robinson for you Miss," Mr Butler explained from the doorway.
"Of course," she muttered. "Does he have news?"
"He suggests you return to the station. He says he has name of a certain car owner for you."
"He couldn't have shared such information over the telephone?"
"Apparently not Miss."
"Ah well," she relenting, picking herself up off the couch and finding herself not quite so steady on her feet. Perhaps she should not drink magic cocktails at such a speed. "Bring the car around then Mr Butler."
"Yes Miss."
.
Jack was just beginning to wonder whether Miss Fisher was going to come or not when she sauntered through the door. She didn't seem to be in the happiest of moods and Jack wondered what the reason was for the bee in her bonnet, surely it wasn't their conversation that had her in such a disposition.
"You have information for me?" she asked rather too seriously.
"I do," Jack agreed, leaning back on his chair to study Phryne and wonder why she wasn't venturing further into his office than the doorway. He tapped the file on his desk.
When Jack offered nothing further Phryne sighed and left her place at a safe distance from the detective-inspector. She took up her usual spot on the corner of his desk and made a move for the folder.
Jack placed his hand over it before she could snatch it up. One of Phryne's perfectly sculpted eyebrows rose. He wanted to ask her what had gotten at her – certainly she wasn't as put off as he by the other night – but decided against it. He lifted his hand and she took the file.
"Michael Douglas," Phryne read then pursed her lips in thought. "Michael Douglas," she repeated slower. "Where do I know that name…?"
Jack thought she looked very cute when confused but quickly dismissed the though. There was a time and a place, he thought, and he was still of the belief that such thoughts about Miss Fisher were sure to get him into trouble.
He snapped back to reality to find Phryne staring at him as if for an answer. He shrugged. How would he know where she knew the name from? He'd never heard it before he'd read the file himself.
"Michael Douglas," she said a third time, even slower. Would saying the name slowly really help jog her memory? "Oh, I know!" She exclaimed. Apparently it would. "He just got engaged!"
"Engaged?"
"Yes!" Phryne exclaimed, proud of herself for remembering. In her boredom a few days prior she had read every last line of the newspaper, including the engagement notices. "I read it in the paper. Now, who was it he was engaged to…?"
Jack opened his mouth to put in his two cents worth but was cut off before he could.
"Angela Lawson!" Phryne found the name and was up before Jack could do or say anything.
His voice stopped her just before she got to the door. "And who is Angela Lawson?"
"Delilah Brown's cousin," Phryne exclaimed with a smile of victory. She didn't remember her vow to stop showing any small amount of charm in front of the detective. He found her excitement all too attractive, just as much as her usual calculated charm.
"Why would Delilah's cousin's fiancé want her dead?" Jack asked.
"Oh I can think of many reasons." Phryne's smile was as wicked as the ideas in her head. She was sure there were many possibilities, and she wasn't sure as to which exactly it was, but she had her suspect and a notion that the reason was a naughty one.
"And where do you think you're going?"
"To interview our suspect," she smiled. "Are you coming?"
Jack picked up his coat off the coat stand and placed his hat on his head. He couldn't help but feel like the little lamb following Mary.
. . .
I hope you're liking my story and please do tell me what you think, reviews are truly the best views! :P
xoxo
