Axiom Tilt Chapter 7
"Jack!"
His mind was racing. Phryne was being held at gunpoint by the person who had called in the report of an intruder. A person both Phryne and Jack suspected of murder.
"Phryne? What… What are you doing here?" Jack's heart was pounding in his ears.
The brunette woman who had answered the door took up her post next to Dr. Gilbert. He guessed that she must be Emily Flynn.
"Inspector Robinson, wasn't it?" Dr. Gilbert said. He was clearly agitated, "Miss Fisher broke into my home and has accused me most unfairly. I'd like you to arrest her."
Phryne huffed loudly, "He was writing another threatening note! I saw him!" Jack was seriously alarmed. She was not herself. Her eyes looked wild, unfocused, and bloodshot. Her normally porcelain skin was red and splotchy. Beads of sweat were forming at her brow. "It's there… in the desk… he hid it."
Dr. Gilbert looked confused, "How did you…?" he pointlessly looked through the uncovered window toward the night-darkened driveway, "Were you spying on me?"
Jack turned to Dr. Gilbert, trying to assess what he was hiding.
Phryne started to move and Dr. Gilbert refocused the gun on her, "I saw him writing and then he hid something in a book."
Jack ran his hand over his face, "Dr. Gilbert, I assure you that Miss Fisher is not a physical threat. Could you put the gun away? Please?" Dr. Gilbert acquiesced. "Thank you, sir. Miss Fisher, please be silent," he turned back to Dr. Gilbert, "Is she correct? Were you writing something? Did you hide it?"
Dr. Gilbert glanced nervously at Emily Flynn, "Well… yes, actually, I was trying to write my wedding vows," he moved to the desk, set the gun down, and picked up a book with The Collected Works of Lord Byron emblazoned on the spine. He pulled out a folded sheet of paper, handing it to Jack.
Jack studied it for a moment, and then handed it back to Dr. Gilbert, "Constable Blalock. Please escort Miss Fisher outside. I'd like to have a word with Dr. Gilbert."
"But Jack! Byron! It fits… it all…" she was getting even redder faced and losing what was left of her composure. It wasn't much.
"Outside! Now!" Jack barked in anger.
The young constable nervously approached Phryne and led her out of the room, "Come along, Miss Fisher. Nice and steady."
Phryne let out a frustrated grunt.
Jack waited until he heard the front door close.
He took a deep breath, "Dr. Gilbert, I cannot apologize enough for Miss Fisher's behaviour today. I beg you to reconsider pressing charges. She's… she's unwell… and I'll be contacting her physician as soon as we leave."
"I could see that there's something going on tonight… but Inspector Robinson, this cannot keep happening. And… in my home? Threatening my fiancée?" Dr. Gilbert, Jack could tell, was trying to be understanding.
"I'll take care of it."
"I need your word that she won't be bothering me or Emily again, Inspector," Dr. Gilbert was calming some from his excitement, "I will see you removed from your position if you break that word… I have friends in powerful places… that isn't an empty threat."
Jack nodded at him solemnly, "I understand. You have my word. I'll remove her from the case and make sure she doesn't bother you. Again, I'm sorry."
"Yes… well… see that she doesn't."
"Thank you, Dr. Gilbert." Jack left the couple and headed out into the night to collect his… well what was she? His Phryne? Was she though? And could he even hope to keep that promise to keep her away? Trying to stop Phryne on a mission was like trying to stop the tide with your hands.
Phryne and Constable Blalock were standing next to the police vehicle. Or rather, Constable Blalock was standing next to it and Phryne pacing back and forth next to it.
"Blalock, take the police motorcar back to the station, please. I'll… I'll take Miss Fisher home." Jack sounded exhausted to his own ears. Exhausted by what the day had already served up, and exhausted by what was to come.
"Yes, sir." The young constable got behind the wheel and gladly removed himself from the building tension.
"Where is the Hispano?" Jack's voice was quiet and deceptively calm. Phryne saw rage behind his eyes—and it was unnerving to her.
Wordlessly, she pointed down the street. He waved his arm toward the vehicle and she stomped off in front of him.
"You'd better let me drive," Jack said as they reached the Hispano. She looked for a moment as if she were about to protest, but a warning look from Jack—a look of anger, hurt, and disappointment that was harsher than she ever remembered seeing… even after Gertie Haynes—convinced her otherwise.
She watched him as he steered the car the short distance to Wardlow. He wouldn't look at her. He kept his eyes on the road. Knuckles white on the steering wheel. His face was stone.
Phryne's mind was jumping from one thought to another. Her emotions were fluctuating between anger and anguish. Dr. Gilbert was guilty… and for Jack to just discount me like that… and bark… as if I were a child the way Father used to do when he was angry but Jack was different he wasn't raging he was seething… then what was going on with Emily? Why was she so afraid of me and not of Brian Gilbert? It didn't make any sense… sense… sensing the anger a chill ran through her and she started shaking. Shaking… shaking… can't shake the feeling that we're missing something terribly important… why am I so thirsty? Really need something to drink… she started looking around for something knowing it was foolish and foolish and… why can't I remember what I can't remember?
"Phryne?" Jack's voice still had an edge of anger, but there was a layer of worry.
She blinked at him, "I… I'm fine Jack."
She realized that they were parked just outside her garage at Wardlow, but she had no real memory of how she arrived.
"You aren't fine," he assessed, "I'm going to call Mac." He reached out to feel her forehead. As flushed as she was, as odd as she was acting, he suspected a fever.
She slapped his hand away, "I said I'm fine!"
She exited the car and stormed into the house through the kitchen door, slamming it shut behind her.
Jack exhaled violently, grabbing and shaking the steering wheel in frustration. "Damnit."
A moment later he was on her heels, following her into the house.
"Phryne!" Jack followed her through the house to the parlor. She was pouring herself a generous glass of whisky as he entered, "Phryne… you are not fine. I… I don't know what's going on with you… but I'm going to call Mac."
"I don't need Mac!" she spat, "I need you to trust me! Gilbert is guilty and you did nothing! How could you do nothing!?"
Jack rubbed his fingers over his eyebrows, trying to pinch away the tension headache that had formed, "Phryne… it's all I could do to keep Gilbert from pressing charges. You broke into his house! You threatened him! I… I thought I expressly said not to harass him?"
"He's guilty!"
"There is NO evidence of that. In fact…" he said loudly, and then realized the subject he was about to bring up could be listening in, so he dropped his voice, "In fact," he glanced toward the upstairs as he practically whispered, "there is mounting evidence that your Miss Isaacs isn't what she seems."
Phryne gaped at him, "What?! That's ridiculous!"
"Is it?" he narrowed his eyes at her, "You're off your game, Miss Fisher. It's not like you to discount evidence because it doesn't meet your vision of the case."
"I'm off my… well… fine Jack. Where's your evidence?" She crossed her arms at him, "And if you're so certain, why don't you arrest her? And what about the threatening note he was writing… and in the Byron!"
Jack realized the files Nurse Fletcher had given him were at City South, and likely so was anything having to do with Rebecca Isaac's family.
Jack pressed his lips together in frustration, "I don't… " he started with raised voice, and then adjusted again, "I don't have it here with me… and I don't have enough to make an arrest of anyone yet, but Rebecca Isaacs was let go from Royal Melbourne because she was suspected of mistreating patients, though there was no proof. And the note… your compelling note? Was as he said… it was his wedding vows!"
"That doesn't prove anything!" she said in exasperation.
"I know it doesn't… but… Phryne, why do you trust her so much?"
"Why don't you trust me at all, Jack?" She cried.
He blinked at her stunned, "How… how can think I don't trust you?"
Phryne threw her arms up in frustration, "You never talk to me about anything! You keep everything inside and I never know where I stand on anything. We said we were going to be honest with each other… but you never tell me how you feel! You just go along and I have to make all the decisions," some small part of her was screaming in her mind that this wasn't the time or emotional state to have this conversation. But it didn't matter, she was in it now. "You don't even care!"
Jack's nostrils flared in anger, "I don't care? I don't… Jesus, Phryne… when am I ever given an actual choice? You do what you want to do… regardless of the consequences… and I have to either suck it up or get out. You've made that clear from the start."
"We're supposed to be partners!" she countered, "If you won't talk to me, how am I supposed to know whether you're getting hurt or not? You can't expect me to read your mind!"
"Would it matter? If I told you I don't want you to do something you want to do?" he volleyed back, "Would you even listen? That would be new."
"You knew who I was when we got into this," she waved her hand between them. "This…"
"This what, Phryne? What are we?" he pled.
She pulled back, "We're partners… or supposed to be."
"What does that mean to you? I'm not your husband… you've been very clear that you don't want that." He sneered.
"You don't want to get married either! Don't lay that on me!" she was livid. "We agreed!"
"We…" he ran his hand over his mouth as if trying to stop a flow of things he couldn't take back, "We don't… agree. You dictate and I follow."
She gaped at him as if he'd struck her, "That isn't fair! You always agree… what happened to the honesty we promised?"
"When have I ever had a chance to disagree? It's your life… I can't and don't want to control you… it's your house… I have no claim. Tell me, Phryne. Tell me what power I have to disagree with you, hm?"
"If you're so unhappy with it, why don't you just leave!" her heart was breaking, but all she could feel right now was rage. She hated Jack Robinson for making her feel like this. She hated him for making her the monster.
He ran his hand over his brow and then through his hair, "Because I'm not unhappy! I love you… and I love our life together… but I really don't know where I fit. Were you even going to tell me that you went to see Mac today?"
She looked at him in horror, "She told you! She promised she wasn't going to tell you! Damnit, Mac!"
"Told me what?" Jack narrowed his gaze.
"She lied to me! She said she wasn't on the telephone with you!" Phryne started pacing, "It's nothing. It's not true. I'm not pregn... it's not possible."
"Pregnant?" he glared at her, "Don't you think that's something you should discuss with your 'partner'?"
"I'm not!" she insisted, "Mac is only running the test!"
Jack collapsed into the chair nearest him. Hugh did say that pregnancy did crazy things to Dot's personality. But pregnant? It didn't feel real to him. They'd discussed children and both of them decided (she decided for both of them, really) that it wasn't a great choice for them. They were so careful with protection. He'd long ago given up any idea of being a father—and as he honestly assessed his thoughts about it—the idea of a baby was… not entirely appealing at his age. Part of him would love to have a child with Phryne. A permanent symbol of their love. But, children aren't symbols… another part of his mind weighed in… they are whole individuals who don't always do what you expect them to do.
The idea of a child for the sake of a legacy always grated on him. The part that was bothering him the most was that she kept it from him. Whatever was decided, should be—more than any of the other things that were bothering him—a joint decision. But once again, she kept it from him for her own purposes. Things hadn't changed as much as he'd hoped.
"And you weren't going to tell me." It wasn't a question. The fight had fled him. He was just numb.
Phryne was still aggitated, "There wasn't anything to tell. It's just a test."
"Was it just that? You've been acting…" this was exhausting… he was exhausted, "strange,"
"I'm acting strange? That's rich. You say nothing at all about how you feel about anything and now you unload all of this and make me into a monster!" she waived her hand dismissively, "Mac shouldn't have told you."
"She didn't. She can't," he said wearily, "Because I'm nobody important, I don't get to know any of these things. The only reason I know anything at all is because she was worried about you, too."
"Well, there's nothing wrong with me," she sneered. The sweat dampened hair, blotchy skin, and bloodshot eyes belied that claim.
"Let's call Mac and have her come verify that," he bit back, standing and moving toward the telephone, "and I can't let you near this case again. Not after tonight."
"Jack!" the anger that was subsiding flared into life again, "You can't do that! I need to investigate this!"
"You had your chance. I told you not to harass Gilbert and then you promptly turned around and you broke into his house."
The blotches grew together as she got angrier. He couldn't do this to her. How dare he order her like that! She couldn't bear to look at him.
"Get out!" she yelled at him pointing at the door.
"Phry.." he started to protest.
"OUT!" She stomped her foot.
He looked like he was going to fight, but turned on his heel and walked out the front door, slamming it behind him.
Phryne let out a primal groan of frustration. Before collapsing on the floor with her head in her hands. She didn't really want Jack to go… she just couldn't take this fight anymore. Why did he have to fight her? Wait… didn't I want him to push back? If this was pushing back, I don't like it.
"Miss Fisher?" Phryne's head shot up at the timid sound of Rebecca's voice.
"Rebecca? I'm… I'm sorry if we disturbed you." She noted that the young woman was carrying a tray with both hands.
"I've made you some herbal tea… and put out a few of Mr. Butler's sandwiches," the younger woman lifted the tray in offer.
She really wanted something stronger, but she reasoned some tea might help calm her nerves. She pulled herself off the floor and onto the chaise.
"Thank you, Rebecca. That would be lovely."
The nurse brought the tray into the parlor and set it on the low table in front of Phryne. She poured her a cup of tea and settled in the chair opposite the detective.
"I… I overheard some of… with your… um," she struggled to find the word, "partner?" the concept seemed alien to the young woman, "I didn't mean to listen… I'm sorry if I'm causing…"
"It's not you, Rebecca," Phryne took a sip, "this has been coming."
Rebecca picked up a sandwich, nibbling at a corner. "What did he mean you harassed Bri… Dr. Gilbert?"
"It doesn't matter," Phryne smiled wanly at the girl.
"But he said… "
"I'm still going to keep you safe, Rebecca," Phryne swore, "I promise you. We'll get to the bottom of this. Inspector Robinson will… he'll come around."
Phryne looked longingly at the front door, willing Jack to come back through it.
Jack slammed the door behind him and stalked down the path toward the street. He knew he should stay and finish this argument, but he just… needed some space to think. Pregnant? She couldn't be. It had to be something else. But what? He thought he remembered seeing something in the Marjory Murdockson diary that nagged at him… something she wrote about Nurse Fletcher that he'd skimmed over but was now screaming at him to pay attention. He couldn't go back to Wardlow until he calmed down. At this point, he thought bitterly, I'm not sure I can go back to Wardlow at all.
Quicker than he expected, he found himself in front of City South.
The first thing he did was call Mac. He knew it was late enough that she'd have left the morgue. He knew she was probably at home, so he tried her there first. It had been over a year since they were part of each other's routine, but Mac kept her routines steady.
"Elizabeth McMillan," she answered.
"Mac, it's Jack," he replied, "Please go to Wardlow and check out Phryne. You're right. Something is wrong."
"Oh," she responded, "So, you spoke to her? Wait, did you say 'go to'? Where are you?"
"City South," he said tightly, "She threw me out."
"Jack."
"Just… just make sure she's alright," he said, "I'll be fine."
"I'll head over there immediately," she promised, "Jack?"
"Yes?" his voice sounded raw to his own ears.
"This will pass," Mac tried to comfort him, "She loves you."
He exhaled, "I… I know. Please, just… help her."
He rang off. Putting his head in his hands, he tried collecting what he could of his thoughts. He didn't trust Rebecca Isaacs at all, and now he'd left the woman he loved with her alone. Mr. Butler was there, of course, and Mac was on the way. But he couldn't help but feel as if he'd abandoned her. Let her down. Why did he have to say what he said?
He opened his desk drawer and pulled out his whisky and a glass. He poured himself a generous amount before reaching for the diary. In the proper reading of it, he'd only managed to make it to Marjory's one dinner date with Gilbert, but in leafing through it earlier something had caught at his subconscious. What was it? In the parts of the diary he'd already read, Nurse Fletcher was stern, but fair and always cool, calm, and collected. It wasn't that. He thumbed through, eyes sweeping the pages as he looked only for the words that triggered his thought. There!
Nurse Fletcher has been kind, but I worry about her. She seems ill lately. I tried to convince her to talk to one of the doctors, but she assured me she was well. "Just an ache in the head," she said.
And then a few days later:
I'm more concerned about Nurse Fletcher. She seems to be forgetting things, and she is always flushed. I asked Becky about it, but she said she didn't notice a change. Nurse Fletcher has warned me to stay away from Becky, but who else am I going to speak to? Save Nurse Fletcher and Becky, this whole hospital treats me like a pariah. Diary, I did nothing wrong.
Jack pulled his attention away from the words on the page. Nurse Fletcher had physical symptoms that sounded all too familiar.
By the time he saw the bottom of his whisky glass for the second time, he had worked out that Nurse Fletcher seemed to get sicker and sicker until Rebecca Isaacs was transferred away from Royal Melbourne. At that point, she gradually recovered.
It was late. He wasn't really sure where to go. He had no home of his own. There was barely enough room for the Collins family at the house he still technically owned. He supposed he could stay here at the station, but that was not at all appealing. He'd been cast out of Wardlow. He felt lost in a way he hadn't since…
He picked up the telephone and dialed a once familiar extension. Surprisingly, it was the voice he had hoped to hear answering the telephone.
"It's me. I'm sorry to bother you…" he said on his end of the line, "Is it too late?"
"Jack! Of course not!" the comfortingly familiar voice said over the line, "It's… nice to hear your voice,"
"I… I need a place to stay tonight," he said nervously. This was probably a terrible idea, but he didn't have many other options. "I hate to ask, but…"
"Nonsense, Jack. There's plenty of room," she paused, "Have you eaten? You usually forget."
"I haven't, actually," he realized aloud.
"Come over, Jack," she said after a short pause, "We'll talk about it. Whatever it is."
He smiled a sad smile that he knew she'd be able to hear if not see, "Thank you, Rosie."
