Thanks for your lovely reviews and also for your kind words on the posting delays. I appreciate both very much. This is shaping up to be another long one, but I am hopeful to finish this story sometime next year. ;)
Chapter 14: Ballet
"Where are we heading, Sir?" Hugh Collins asked when the Inspector turned the car south rather than west.
"Home, Collins."
The Constable seemed to ponder this for a moment.
"But I am working the late shift, Sir."
"I telephoned the Station to let them know that we will not be back," Jack stated calmly, trying to concentrate on the flooding street. The rain hadn't let up in hours, pouring down as if it was trying to sweep all sin of the earth. Hugh sneezed into the silence.
"I doubt your wife has currently the strength to deal with a sick husband on top of her newborn," the Inspector pointed out. He was freezing and doubted that the Constable was any better off. It was time to call it a day.
"I fear you're right, Sir," Hugh said. "In fact, I am not sure if she has the strength to deal with little Thomas alone right now."
The words were out before Hugh had considered what it meant telling this to his superior. Jack stayed silent while he slowed the car down to let a horse pass. The brown mare was struggling on the slippery cobbles but bravely dragged her cart on through the rain. Hugh moved anxiously in his seat.
"I apologise, Sir. That was a very inappropriate thing to say."
Jack shook his head, taking his time to voice his thoughts.
"We share a house, Collins. It might not be what we would have chosen and it's certainly not making working together any easier, but as it happens, we are somewhat like family."
Hugh turned his head to the window in an attempt to hide the involuntary smile lighting up his face.
"That is very kind of you to say, Sir."
Jack ignored this as best as he could, he felt already like he had said too much. There certainly was no need to get emotional with one of his officers, even if it was Hugh Collins.
"So, if there is anything of concern happening with Dorothy, we are here to help," he added just in case his statement hadn't been clear enough.
"That's just it, Sir," Hugh said, "she won't even accept my help."
Silence again snuck into the car as it travelled through the rain and finally stopped in front of the familiar red fence. Both men were busy with their thoughts.
"You may have to try harder, Collins," Jack said just when Hugh was about to open his door. "Your wife is a strong woman and let me put it like this: strong women sometimes forget to ask for help even when they need it."
Hugh nodded slowly, letting this sink in.
"Thank you, Sir."
He left, rushing through the rain towards his own front door. Jack sat for a moment longer. Then he shook his head and climbed out of the car. He took his time getting to the house. It was not like the rain could do anything that hadn't already happened.
Mr. Butler opened the door to him seemingly unfazed by his Master being completely drenched and just took his wet coat from him.
"Will you be taking dinner in tonight, Sir?" he asked when Jack headed for the stairs. He inspected his watch, before answering. "Later, Mr. Butler, I will only have a change of clothes and then I will have to head back out. " He turned on the second step. "Tell me, is my wife in?"
"I'm afraid not, Sir."
Jack nodded, turning away before his disappointment could show.
"Did she say where she was headed?"
"No, Sir."
Another nod then the Inspector headed up the stairs. Walking past Jane's room, he overheard something like quiet singing.
"Jane and Harry, sitting in a tree..."
"Stop it, Mel!"
But there was a faint giggle in Jane's voice. Jack stopped cold, but the rest of the conversation was just quiet murmuring. Harry? Harry Taylor was Jane's dancing partner; the Inspector remembered that much. He hadn't spoken a word with the boy yet, but Phryne had. It seemed it was time they had a conversation about the young man. He continued to his bedroom his head so full of thoughts he almost forgot the time. He missed his wife by the whole of five minutes when he finally rushed back out into the rainy evening.
X
Hugh Collins had a much colder greeting when he stepped through his own front door. The hall was engulfed in darkness. Calling out for Dot he crossed the parlour into the kitchen where the cold stove was witness to complete neglect of housework. At this stage Hugh's worry turned into fear. He rushed up the stairs, his heart beating in his throat. It was silent, the crib missing, but a figure was lying on the bed with her back turned to him, her hair spread out over the pillow. A dark red stain was forming on the sheet where her arm was sprawled out.
"Dottie!"
Hugh was by his wife's side in an instance, shaking her shoulder. "Dottie!"
She groaned, leaving a smear of blood where her cut had seeped through the bandaging and finally turned, looking at him out of blurry eyes.
"Hugh?"
She blinked into the grey afternoon light that filtered through the curtains when he didn't answer.
"What's the matter?"
"Dottie?" he repeated. He seemed completely unable to explain what had been going through his mind. "God, I..." he trailed off, then started again.
"Where is Tommy?"
"With Mr. Butler. He insisted I get some sleep. Hugh, is everything all right? You are all wet!"
She touched his face, leaving a dark smear on his cheek.
"Everything's fine," he said like a mantra that he needed to convince himself of. "Everything is perfectly fine."
When he hugged her tightly to his wet uniform, Dot thought for a moment that he was about to burst into tears. But surely she was only imagining this.
X
Miss Fisher felt tired and annoyed. At the Station, Constable Arnold had informed her that Jack was out on business and not going to return for the day. He had been nice enough and also happy to accept the jug from Bert's very careful hands for testing. The Inspector's office, however, had exuded a silence that always disturbed her. City South without Jack Robinson was not quite right.
When she finally stepped onto her porch after handing the Cabbies a few extra coins for their patience, which would probably not make it further than to the next pub, she was just looking forward to a warm meal and an even warmer bed, possibly followed by a glass of whiskey and an update on Jack's progress in the case. She couldn't wait to confirm his suspicions about Madame Claudine and the victim, yet there were other things that she burned even more to share with him.
"Good evening, ma'am," Mr. Butler greeted her, taking her coat. She glanced past him, realising that there were only two places set at the table.
"The Inspector has gone out," Mr. Butler answered her question before she could ask it.
Phryne smiled. It took some effort.
"Did he mention where he is or when he is going to return?" she asked. Mr. Butler had to negate, showing her through to the dining room. Mrs. Robinson considered this while he went upstairs to fetch Jane. Jack not letting anyone know where he was headed was unusual and she couldn't help but wonder if it had anything to do with the things he had been keeping from her. She needed to talk to him she once again decided firmly. But first of all she would have dinner with Jane and visit Dot to see if her assistant had recovered from her little accident.
Then she would go upstairs and think about how exactly she would receive Jack when he returned home. She smiled at the thought, unfolding her serviette with flourish. In fact she couldn't wait to welcome him home.
X
Jack found himself alone on the doorstep of the big Edwardian house for the first time. He wasn't even certain why he had come other than to not be rude to someone who had never been anything but lovely to him. But when he rang the doorbell a second time after he'd received no answer, he began to regret his politeness.
Then the door was ripped open, a flustered Riya standing in front of him.
"I am so sorry, Inspector. It's Inga's night off and I started painting and... I just forgot time I'm afraid. Please do come through."
Jack managed a smile.
"It is not a problem."
She ushered him into the hall with paint splattered fingers and hung up his coat and hat.
"Now, I do hope you are hungry, Inspector. I am very certain that Inga left me her goulash and I despise eating alone."
She showed him through to the dining room that was set for two people and bustled away into the kitchen. Jack looked around, wondering how he would get out of this. He was only here to pick up a book! One he didn't even want any more.
"Living alone I can cope with, working I don't want anyone about, but sitting down for a nice meal, I actually feel lonely."
Jack was unable to not smile at this.
"I can relate," he said when his host returned with a bowl full of steaming stew. "I always avoided nice meals as much as possible when I was alone."
He bit his tongue a moment too late. The Inspector had never revealed this to anyone, not even Phryne.
"Well, in this case this is certainly not a meal you should have on your own, Inspector. A recipe from Inga's grandmother, I believe."
"It smells wonderful," Jack said politely, realising with a start that he wasn't lying - and that his stomach was growling. He briefly thought of Phryne but surely she wouldn't hold it against him if he kept her friend company during dinner; more likely the opposite. So he finally sat down onto the offered chair, while the lady of the house dished out both the stew and a strange sort of dumplings. They were neither round nor could he repeat the name that Riya laughingly gave them.
The food was in fact delicious and so he didn't protest his hostess pouring him a glass of wine and lighting some candles. By the time he had emptied both his plate and glass it was getting late.
"Mrs. Santi, I don't wish to be rude, but I do need to head home. Thank you very much for dinner..." He made an attempt to rise, but was stopped by a hand on his arm.
"Inspector... Jack, you are a very good policeman and as such are bound to know that I haven't asked you to come here for goulash or Goethe," she said calmly, watching him drop back onto his chair.
"I had my suspicions," he said after a long pause.
"Let's head to the sitting room," she offered. "This might go down better with a tumbler of whiskey."
A part of Jack wanted to flee the building, but he was intrigued. So he followed the Lady of the house. Soon he found himself in the very same armchair he had spent the gone evening in, a very similar tumbler in hand. Only the colour of Riya's clothing – a flowing pair of trousers reminding him of pictures he had seen of far-eastern women – and the absence of his wife kept his sense of Deja vu in check.
"I've asked... or rather lured you here tonight, because I am worried," Riya Santi began.
"Police business?" the Inspector asked. "Because if that is the case I'd rather discuss this at the Station."
A pair of beautiful almond eyes fixed on him in silence for a long moment.
"I have known Phryne for a very long time, Jack. She has a beautiful soul, a wonderful spirit. I can sense her being dissatisfied."
Jack forgot to breathe as he felt his shields shift into place. This was none of this woman's business. She was being manipulative and nosy and... he gulped. And right! He had sensed it too when he had watched Phryne tango. She had married him, allowed him to tame her - and lost something in the process that he was unable to restore to her as much as he wanted to. He stared at his hands, choking on every possible answer.
"Thank you for this insight, Mrs. Santi. I really need to go."
"Riya!" she said firmly and something about it caused him to stop in his tracks. He turned to her, without tearing his eyes from the floor.
"You're correct," he said quietly, holding on to his composure by a thin thread. "But then, there is little I can do about it," he added after a long moment, trying to not let her see that her words had hit him in the heart. "So, if you don't mind-"
"I do mind, Jack."
"Right."
He sat back down, rubbing his suddenly cold hands.
"I asked her to take up dancing again," he admitted after some silence.
"With this Nicolas?"
"Well hardly since he is dead!" he said, his voice dripping sarcasm.
"Jack?"
Finally the Inspector managed to look at his hostess, finding tears shimmering in her eyes that mirrored his own.
"You are a fool! Phryne has danced with many men in her past, none of whom ever fulfilled her. She desires to dance with you!"
"I..."
The Inspector found nothing to say to that.
"So, what do you propose I do?" he asked after another long moment staring at his hands. When he returned his gaze to the other chair, Riya had disappeared. Soft music wafted through the room. She walked up to him, the embroidering on her black pants glimmering in the light with every step, and stretched out her hand.
"I propose that you stop being a fool, Jack."
He wanted to protest, he really did. But then he thought of Phryne in Nicolas Steeger's arms, remembering the glitter in her eyes and suddenly all he could do was take the offered hand and dance.