This ending gave me a bit of a headache but I hope it was worth it in the end. The prompt was from Tandbanjo. Have a better idea? please leave it down in the review section.

Ending 9

"Oh, drat," Miss Fisher said.

Jack stared at the woman dumbfounded as a pair of impressive green eyes watched him carefully. Despite his massive hangover the detective in Jack was coming rapidly to a surprising conclusion: the woman in his bed was not, in fact, Phryne Fisher.

He clutched his sheet to himself.

"Who are you?" he asked, fighting down his panic.

The woman tilted her head in a gesture that seemed vaguely familiar.

"Way to flatter a woman, inspector," she said, throwing back the sheets. She was very far from dressed and Jack felt heat rise in his cheeks.

"Marie White," she said lightly, as she picked a sparkling golden dress from the floor. "We met at Pauline's birthday party..." she trailed off, waiting for his memory to take over.

"Oh," Jack made, groaning inwardly.

He had found himself unable to refuse Miss Fisher's invitation to accompany her to a ball on a small country estate. The amount of champagne flowing had been as obscene as the amount of old money assembled in the tiny ballroom. If it hadn't been for Miss Fisher, the evening would've been entirely unbearable. But the inspector had put on a brave face and sipped champagne and made conversation before sipping more champagne.

As the evening had progressed, he'd changed company numerous times, losing Phryne in the crowd. Miss White had joined him with the hostess' husband Marcel and her fiance David Price. Her appearance had struck him straight away, not only because she did actually have some resemblance with the lady detective. Clever green eyes had sparkled underneath a head of raven black hair, cropped just slightly shorter than Phryne's, and her dress showed both taste and no desire to hide. The group had discussed the opening of pharaohs' graves in Egypt, the possibility of curses – which Jack didn't believe in - and the difference between grave robbers and archeologists – which Miss White didn't – and at some point Jack had realised that Phryne had begun to dance quite closely with a man who hadn't been introduced to him. At which point the evening had inevitably become unbearable.

Since they were about half an hour's drive from Melbourne and they had come in the hispano, Jack had no other choice than the guestroom the lady of the house had reserved for him and he had fully intended to make use of it, right after draining a generous glass of whiskey to ease the pain.

And that was as far as he recalled. Miss White, who was currently fastening a ripped stocking had not been part of the plan – nor did she feature in his memories.

"Did we…?" Jack cut himself off, cleared his throat. The fact that he was entirely undressed didn't bode well. But he couldn't have been so drunk as to forget… relations. Surely not?

Marie White stopped in slipping a strap of her dress over her white shoulder and looked at him smiling.

"You don't remember?" she asked, sitting by his bedside.

He flinched, when she ran long, manicured fingers through his hair and down his cheek.

"Poor darling," she purred. "It was a night worth remembering."

Jack bit back any nasty replies he was tempted to throw at her.

"But as much fun as it was, I must be going," she smiled, oblivious to his discomfort. "My fiance is the jealous type and he'd better not find out where I've spent the night."

She stood, peeling her fur stole from a chair.

"In that case it might be advisable not to wake in strangers' beds," Jack stated, no longer able to hide his annoyance. She simpered.

"Lets blame the champagne," she said, smiling lopsidedly at the inspector, then leaned down to leave a lipstick smear on his cheek. Her perfume, Phryne's perfume he recognized, caused a wave of nausea to sweep through his stomach.

"This will stay our little secret, won't it?"

Jack, still sitting in bed, clutching the sheets to himself, swallowed hard.

"Don't worry, I have no desire for anyone to find out about this."

She simpered and turned to the door, when a knock sounded and without a pause the door flew open.

"Good morning, Ja-"

Miss Fisher stopped cold while the inspector wished the ground would open up and swallow him. Then she suddenly smiled icily.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know you had company, Jack."

"Miss White was just about to leave," the inspector stated grimly. The lady in question threw him a look.

"So I was."

"Oh, don't rush on my account."

The two women passed each other with glittering eyes. Meanwhile, Jack considered the propriety of hiding underneath the covers. His head was pounding. It was a nightmare, it had to be. Any moment now he would wake. But instead, Miss White left and he was alone with Phryne Fisher, whose smile promised the beginning of an ice age.

"So, Jack," she asked, planting herself at the side of his bed which Miss White had only recently abandoned, "what was the occasion for Marie's early visit?"

Jack cleared his throat, searched his fuzzy brain feverishly for a lie.

"She was looking for her fiance," he mumbled. "Since I had only just woken, I wasn't of much help."

"I see," Phryne smiled.

He couldn't shake the suspicion that she didn't believe a word. Carefully she picked up the empty tumbler still sitting by his bedside table, rolled it between her palms.

"And she accidentally donned last night's dress?" she asked after a long moment.

Jack sighed, rubbing his throbbing temples.

"Alright, Miss Fisher, you've caught me. Would you like the sordid details?" he asked, his voice tainted with exasperation.

Phryne shrugged, her eyes glued to the glass, then she looked up, smiling brightly.

"I just didn't think she was quite your type, Jack."

The inspector wanted to laugh, scream, possibly shake her. Instead he fished for his morning gown, slung over the foot of his bed.

"Would you mind if I get dressed before any further interrogation?" he snapped.

"Oh, don't mind me," Phryne said, but made no move to leave.

Cursing her under his breath, Jack crawled from the sheets, covering himself as well as he could and slung the gown around himself, then pulled on some pyjama pants underneath. It was amazing what difference a few layers of fabric made to his comfort.

"You might want to be careful, Jack," Miss Fisher said conversationally, while he ran a comb through his hair in a vain attempt to become presentable.

"Why is that, Miss Fisher?"

There was a pause.

"For one, Marie is engaged to be married."

"So she informed me."

Miss Fisher fell silent, but in the mirror Jack could see her still watching him. A smile was painted to her face which her eyes belied and he wished he could throw himself at her feet and explain that whatever had happened last night didn't change a thing. But then that was a ridiculous idea.

"Tell me, what kind of woman is Marie White?" he asked suddenly.

"You should know that better than me, surely?" Phryne said, rising to her feet.

He gave her a long look and she sighed. "I don't know her terribly well. She is merely an acquaintance, Jack."

She stepped to the window, looked out into the rainy morning with her back turned to him.

"But she seems clever enough, and she's certainly beautiful. A terrible match for that toad of a fiance, if you ask me."

Jack's ears pricked.

"You don't approve of Mr Price?" he asked, searching his memories.

David M. Price had not left any lasting impressions with him. He was a well dressed man, but not particularly handsome, quiet, possibly he'd been bored with their conversation. The few things he had said had been meaningless and vague.

"He has some odd opinions," Miss Fisher explained after a pause.

"Like not wanting his fiancee to spend the night with strangers?" Jack asked dryly.

He could see Miss Fisher roll his eyes at him in the reflection of the window. He stepped beside her, not close enough to touch, but the warmth radiating from her seemed to calm him all the same.

"They look rather happy," she said.

He noticed instantly what she was talking about. Down in the square Mr Price was currently offering Miss White his arm as they wandered away into the park together. They were chattering animatedly, no cloud darkening their bliss. Jack didn't understand.

"Tell me about them?" he requested as they watched the couple retreat.

Rain began to trickle down the window again.

"It seems an odd day for a walk," Miss Fisher said, instead of an answer.

"The endurance granted by true love," Jack said grimly.

He recalled a fair amount of times himself where he'd rushed through terrible weather to Phryne's aid and wondered dimly if her mind was wandering down similar paths.

"I'm not sure how much love comes into the equation," she said into his thoughts.

Apparently not.

"You don't think she is attached to him then?" he asked, with some surprise.

"David became rich very quickly and her interest in him seems to have risen proportionally to his… financial stability."
"I see," the inspector said slowly. "Out of interest, what kind of business is Mr Price involved in?"

"I believe him to be trading in stocks – but I certainly wouldn't let him anywhere near my finances. Rumour goes he is in some trouble with the law," she explained. "Let's hope for their marriage that his riches may last."

She threw him a quick glance and smiled sarcastically.

"I doubt a relationship built on those premises can outlast anything much," Jack rumbled.

Phryne finally tore her eyes from outside to look at him properly, her eyes incredibly blue and innocent and he couldn't help but wish to kiss her despite knowing how little chance there was right now of finding even forgiveness.

"I suspect you're right," she breathed. Jack cleared his throat, retreating slightly.

"But since I haven't detected any signs of deep attachment in David either, I refuse to feel sympathy for him," Miss Fisher added calmly.

A genuine smile appeared on her features, which relieved the inspector beyond measure. For a long moment they looked at each other.

"Either way, Jack, I would not recommend you lose your heart to her," she finally said.

Jack opened his mouth to protest, but she talked right over him.

"Now, shall we head down for breakfast?"

Her eyes dipped down his body in an obscene manner.

"Or would you prefer to get dressed first?"

Jack had to clear his throat before he could speak.

"I'm not very hungry, Miss Fisher" he said. "But don't let me stop you, I'm sure your company would be sorely missed," he added pointedly, thinking of her flirtation. If she had ended up in somebody's arms, too? If so, she had managed to be more discreet than himself.

"As it happens I had tea and toast with Pauline at the break of dawn," she said, shrugging. "A slight glitch in marital bliss. She was rather distraught, poor thing."

Jack nodded, biting his lip. So no conquest for Miss Fisher last night then. He couldn't help but embrace the relief flooding his veins, foolish as it was.

"In that case we should head back to Melbourne as soon as it is convenient?" he proposed. He couldn't wait to escape this place and all the memories it didn't hold.

"Certainly. I do have some packing to do though. Let's say, I'll meet you downstairs at..." she grasped his wrist to inspect his watch and Jack found himself holding his breath. "...half past?"

"I'll be there."

Jack waited until she had left, then he got dressed hurriedly. There was something he wanted to see before it was too late.

Minutes later he stepped into the sitting room down the hall, finding a maid with a mass of blonde curly hair in the progress of tidying the mess from last night.

"Morning, Miss..."

"Elizabeth," the girl said.

"Miss Elizabeth, would you give me a moment please?"

The maid looked confused, but left him all the same.

Jack spun on his heels, taking in the scene. Half of the glasses had disappeared already, but the small table in the corner appeared largely untouched. Beside two empty glasses sat a decanter, holding a rest of amber liquid. The Inspector carefully lifted the glass lid and sniffed.

"Its tincture of opium, Jack" a voice said behind him. He spun. Miss Fisher leaned in the door, smiling at him. "The glass in your room smelled of it."

Jack nodded slowly, replacing the lid. Miss Fisher stepped beside him.

"And since you are here, I have to suspect that you didn't take it knowingly," she stated happily. Jack feared that she was enjoying this game way too much. "So, why don't you tell me what happened?" she asked, sinking into one of the green sofas.

The inspector looked at her and finally surrendered himself to her curiousity.

"I'm afraid I can't, Miss Fisher," he said, sitting down himself and kneading his hands on his lap. "My last memory is here. Sitting with some elder gentleman who felt inclined to share stories about his life at sea."

Phryne considered this for a moment.

"I believe the captain's choice of drug is mostly restricted to his pipe and a good whiskey," she pointed out.

Jack sighed.

"No sign of anyone else," he pointed out.

"That's not quite true," Phryne said. "Two glasses. And since there is one sitting in your room..."

"There was a third person," Jack finished her thought. "Miss White?"

Phryne shook her head.

"Marie only drinks champagne. Also, no lipstick mark."

Jack ran his fingers through his hair, his mind working feverishly. He'd been drugged, if by design or accident. And then? Could it be true that he had approached Miss White? Or had she taken advantage of his inebriated stage? The nausea returned with full force and so he'd almost missed the knock.

"Sir, may I continue to clean now?" Elizabeth asked.

"Of course," the Inspector mumbled, rising to his feet.

All he wanted now was to return to Melbourne and forget any of this had ever happened. Miss Fisher had different ideas, however.

"Elisabeth, a word, please" she smiled.

"Yes, miss?"

"Can you remember who the Inspector was sitting here with last night?" Phryne asked. "He is missing his lighter and I believe someone may have put it in their pocket. Mistakenly, of course," she added quickly.

The maid's face clouded over.

"I'm sorry, miss, I worked downstairs last night. It was Magda serving drinks up here. She's off to see her grandmother today."

"I see," Phryne paused, taking in this information. "Tell me, have you found anything else on this table?"

"Just the ashtray, miss."

"Where is it?" Jack asked, more hastily than he had intended.

"Rosa's taken it downstairs, sir, to be washed."

Jack groaned inwardly, but set his jaw in defiance of any emotion threatening to overwhelm him. He would talk to Magda after her return and surely she would have some explanation to offer. Even the captain might be of use. Though, of course, if he'd also drunk the drugged whiskey, he might have as little memory as himself.

"But there was no lighter in it," Elizabeth explained into his thoughts. "I've emptied it right here into the bin," she said, picking up said item.

Jack crossed the room with quick steps, but Miss Fisher was a little faster.

"I'll take that, thank you," she said. "We might find it after all, inspector."

With a pointed look at him, she left the confused maid to stare after her. Jack followed with the briefest words of gratitude. He didn't catch up to Phryne until they'd reached his guest room.

"May I have your handkerchief?"

He handed the white cotton piece to her only for it to be covered in ashes moments later as she dumped out the bin onto his bed.

"I do think you enjoy to dirty my clean things, Miss Fisher," he protested for good measure.

"Now, what do we have here?" Phryne asked, ignoring him other than a faint smirk. She picked up a stained cigarette stub.

"Miss White's?"

Jack did recall her smoking quite a lot during their conversation.

"An exact match for her lipstick," Phryne said.

He sat at the edge of the bed.

"Surely that doesn't prove a thing? It wasn't the only ashtray in the room."

"But at least we know she was there, Jack. And so was David Price," she added, lifting another stub. "He smokes a disgusting American tobacco. I'd recognize it anywhere. And that means-"

"Nothing," Jack cut her off bitterly. "Your detecting abilities may be impressive, Miss Fisher, but Mr Price could well have left without her before his fiancee…" he gulped, "… retired."

He rubbed his tired face, feeling defeated.

"In that case… there's only one thing left to do."

Jack looked up to find Phryne's face glow with mischief and groaned. Nevertheless he found himself minutes later spying down the dim hallway in front of Price's guestroom.

"The coast seems clear," he whispered and Miss Fisher immediately went to work at the lock. It resisted her skills only moments. With an impressive creak the door swung in.

"Shhhs," Jack made, following Phryne into the room. She rolled her eyes at him.

The room was slightly larger than his own, every surface littered with items, both of female and male description.

"Somehow I believe Mr Price would've missed his fiancee last night," Jack stated, inspecting a very thin nightdress, "they don't seem to have kept separate sleeping quarters".

"Unless he knew exactly where she was," Miss Fisher agreed, opening a drawer.

"But to what end?"

"Blackmail."

"I was by far the poorest person in the room last night," Jack pointed out, riffling through the desk.

"Money might not have been what they were after," Phryne argued.

Before he got a chance to enquire after her meaning, Jack found a large bottle of brown liquid underneath a pile of paperwork.

"Laudanum," he said. "You had the right nose, Miss Fisher."

She smirked into a cabinet

"In more ways than one, Jack."

As he turned, she pulled something free with a triumphant grin.

"A Zeiss Ikon. Brand new if I am any judge."

"Is Mr Price a photography enthusiast?" Jack asked, inspecting the big black item in her hands.

"Not that I would know," Miss Fisher said. "But if he did, would he have hidden it behind his suits rather than say… make photographs with it?"

Jack paled.

"You believe..." he trailed off.

"I believe he did snap a few."

Phryne grinned.

"May I ask what you are doing in here?!" an angry voice interrupted their quiet conversation. The two detectives spun, finding a bright scarlet David M Price standing in the door, Miss White half hidden behind him, glowering.

"Oh, we were just admiring your camera," Miss Fisher, who caught herself first, purred, opening the back. As expected, Price rushed forward to stop her.

"Don't! You will expose the film!"

Phryne simpered, but kept the camera out of his reach easily, while Jack reached out to hold back the angry man.

"Silly me, you mean when I open here…"

"Stop!"

She halted.

"You seem to be rather attached to your photographs. Have you taken pictures of something exciting then?"

The shutting off the door drew their attention towards Miss White, who brandished a strained smile.

"I believe, David, our secret is up," she said. "I'm afraid he took some rather… delicate pictures of me. You'll understand that he wouldn't want to lose those."

She grasped for the camera, but Jack grasped her wrist, stopping her.

"I wouldn't happen to be featured in those 'delicate' pictures as well, would I, Miss White?"

Her smile froze.

"A little anonymous letter in a week or two, a scandalous picture to go with it and suddenly your little legal troubles would've gone away? Did I get it right?" Phryne asked, her voice having gained a sharp edge.

"You can't prove a thing," Price said between gritted teeth, snatching the camera from her hands and before anyone could stop him, opened it. He paled.

"There's no film in here..." he turned to his fiancee. "I don't understand."

"You bloody fool! It was all for naught," Marie spat.

The detectives shared a look.

"Not quite." Jack smiled icily. "I think you might get a few more problems with the law for your troubles. But not today. It is Sunday, and I have planned a nice scenic drive through the country side."

He straightened his back.

"Miss Fisher?"

Smiling, she took the offered arm and passed by his side out of the room and down the stairs. The rain had ceased and after they'd taken their goodbyes from the Deniers and Jack had helped Miss Fisher into the Hispano, he leaned back in his seat, letting the wind cool his heated cheeks.

"So, Miss Fisher, what did you do with the film?" he asked after they had driven through the indeed scenic, but still rather wet, countryside for some time. She glanced at him, grinning.

"I may have slipped it in my pocket before they arrived."

"I assume it will be destroyed?" Jack asked.

"Eventually."

For a moment he was silent while his thoughts settled.

"You do not seriously consider to look at pictures of Miss White and myself..." he asked, measuring her profile. She shrugged.

"I am rather curious how they have managed anything worth blackmail," she grinned after a pause. "In my experience people so under the influence of opium that they can't remember a thing, aren't very enthusiastic bed partners."

Jack shuddered. She grew serious.

"And if my suspicions are correct, Jack, then they merely undressed and posed you. I cannot fathom that David would've allowed for anything more to happen."

Jack drew a deep breath into his lungs. It was bad enough, he found. But indeed the photos might give him some peace of mind on that account. For some time neither of them spoke.

"One thing I don't understand," he finally said. "How would a scandal involving his fiancee not have been damaging to Mr Price himself?"

Phryne smiled without taking her eyes off the road.

"I won't know for sure until the photographs are developed, but I suspect Marie isn't clearly visible. Which means she could be interpreted as… somebody else."

Shocked, Jack licked his dry lips.

"You may have noted that we share a certain resemblance," Phryne added after a pause. He glanced at her, then closed his eyes to the first rays of sunshine breaking through dark clouds.

"Really, Miss Fisher? I hadn't noticed at all."