Chapter 13: What's In A Name?

Grace watched on in silence as the farm workers finished digging the hole. Sweat was glistening on their faces as the four climbed out of the dry dirt. Jason wiped his face, leaving a smear on his cheek.

"Deep enough?" he asked, panting with the effort.

"I believe so," the woman answered quietly, throwing another look at the body near her feet. It was covered with a blanket now, but she still knew what it looked like and she wouldn't forget. The fact that Luke was responsible for this made it all the more horrible. How could he?

Grace wanted to cry, but she pulled herself together. This wouldn't do in front of the workers.

With a lot of huffing and puffing the three young men started to pull the sheet towards the dip in the ground while the elderly Clyde carried what was left of the head. It took them a long moment to get the body moving at all.

Grace watched on from the sideline. She had briefly wondered if it was a waste to bury the horses carcass, but she couldn't bring herself to do anything else with the remains of 'Evening Wind'. She had been truly fond of him, even though she knew that Luke had never taken to the stallion, despite loving animals. But this... She still couldn't grasp it. He was such a kind man. Had she not seen the buckle, the buckle of the very hat she had given him for his birthday after his old felt piece had come apart at the seams, she had never believed him to be capable of this. Anger and grief rose like bile in her throat, her vision going blurry. Aidan may well be happy in his self-righteousness but she wouldn't allow Luke to win the race through a murder. Never.

Her hands balled to fists in her pockets as she watched the men work. With a sickening sound the corpse slid into it's grave, causing Dave to scramble out of the way before he was squashed by the horse's ribcage. The blanket slipped aside, letting the legs fall out. Grace squinted, then climbed into the hole.

"Wait," she said to Jason, who had already lifted a shovel, while she crouched down beside the remains. Stunned the men watched on as their employer inspected one of the hoofs, mumbling to herself.

"Go ahead," she finally said, pulling herself to her feet and climbing out of the grave without looking back. Her head was still spinning when she arrived at the farm house.

X

"So, if she'd disappeared without a trace and no note, she might very well be dead."

Jack didn't turn his head, in fact he was trying not to look at his wife at all, lest he might lose his self-control. They were lying on the bed, on top of a perfectly shaken and incredibly flowery doona, staring at the ceiling, where a fan was spinning lazily.

"Of course she could just have run away," he pointed out calmly.

"With a baby boy at home?" Phryne asked, turning her head to look at him. Jack stubbornly refused to return her gesture. He was rather annoyed with himself. Here they were, discussing a possible murder and his body insisted on demanding her attention. It wouldn't do.

"That doesn't make her a great mother, but then stranger things have happened," he quipped.

Phryne hummed in annoyance. They had nowhere to go from here really. Evie Harper had been their only lead into the meaning of her dreams and it led absolutely nowhere.

Actually, that wasn't quite true!

With one swift movement she sat up.

"Phryne?"

She didn't answer, already at the edge of the bed and fishing for her shoes.

"The tree," she huffed, somewhat out of breath from her sudden activity. Jack didn't understand a word but nevertheless got up himself, if somewhat more slowly. He had rather enjoyed lying down, actually. It was still hot outside, his shirtsleeves sticking to his back uncomfortably when he tied up his shoes.

"Are you coming?" she asked already near the door. Somewhat grumpily he joined her.

This time it was her catching him by the arm.
"Jack?"

He stopped, looked at her out of tired eyes.

"Would you prefer to stay?" she asked, sensing his bad mood. He shrugged.

"Strangely, Miss Fisher, I feel the urge to follow you wherever you decide to lead me."

A strained grin accompanied his words.

"Keep up then," she demanded, pulling him after her down the stairs. The hot wind brushed some of the weariness from Jack, but he still couldn't suppress a yawn when the Rock appeared in the distance. Phryne did her hardest to ignore it. She wasn't certain if it was the heat that had gotten to him, but every other possibility took her breath away with fear. She had no use for panic right now; she just needed to push forward and figure out what her mind was trying to tell her. And if it was that Jack was going to die, she also needed to find a way to cheat fate.

The Hispano came to a screeching halt at the foot of the rocks, if somewhat further to the South than in the past.

"Would you care to explain what we are looking for?" the Inspector asked, stifling another yawn.

"The tree Mr. Jalboo found my scarf in," she explained too briefly to actually make much sense while climbing over a fence and jumping down into the dry grass. The tall crown rose up towards the cornflower-coloured afternoon sky, as they approached.

Arriving in it's shadow Jack gently touched the bark of the beautiful, old Kurrajong tree with his palm.

"Don't!" Phryne demanded breathlessly, sensing him getting ready to tell her more about this particular specimen. As much as she appreciated his knowledge on plants, her mind couldn't take any Latin names or interesting background stories right now. Her nerves felt so thin they were close to snapping as she let her eyes sweep up the tree to where the leaves fluttered against the sunlight. Jack obediently fell quiet. At least for a moment.

"Phryne, why on earth are we here?"

"I've seen it in my dream," she said, absent-mindedly stepping around the trunk in search of something she couldn't explain while completely ignoring his slipping patience.

"This is getting ridiculous!"

Her mouth fell open at his tone of voice. Jack didn't speak to her like this. He closed the gap, his eyes glittering in anger.

"No matter which ghosts you are chasing, I am willing to listen. But I refuse to be treated like a stupid child!"

She swallowed dryly. In her madness she had actually forgotten to fill him in. He was staring at her, his eyes a piercing shade of grey in the bright sunlight, challenging her to defy him. Phryne felt the fake calmness she had shown all day drain from her body, leaving nothing but darkness and fear. But she couldn't tell him that she herself didn't know what she was looking for. She was so lost! How could she tell him that?

He obviously misinterpreted her silence, because the crease between his eyes deepened, together with his battered face causing him to look incredibly dangerous.

For a brief moment Phryne caught herself thinking that she didn't know this strange, furious man at all. Then emotions appeared on his features which she recognised: surprise and curiosity. He brushed past her in the most careful of sidesteps and returned his attention to the tree bark. Phryne spun on her heels, confused and embarrassed but also relieved that the thunderstorm had passed without causing a serious argument. She realised a moment later what had distracted his attention. His fingertips trailed over some carved lines, barely readable any more after decades of exposure to the elements and the tree's growth. Two names.

X

"Did you find the Station all right?" Rosemary Wilson asked happily when John Robinson demanded his keys. He wasn't in a great mood. His little talk with Sergeant Ferguson had told him absolutely nothing of any interest. In fact the young police officer had seemed almost bored. Things had been different in his days for sure. And now this young lady was being overly nice and lovely while Mia Green stood with her back turned, sorting through some paperwork which must have been incredibly important for her to warrant ignoring him.

"The description wasn't all that bad," he admitted grumpily, "even though discretion seems to be too much to ask for," he added louder, but to no effect. Rosemary flushed in embarrassment.

"I'm terribly sorry, my aunt-"

"Could not be bothered to keep our conversation to herself, it seems," he talked over the young woman, his annoyance growing.

"I wasn't aware that street directions were a state secret, Mr. Robinson," Mia said calmly, still unwilling to face him. A big hand fell onto John's shoulder before he had managed to grind out anything else.

"A word, father!" Jack hissed beside his ear, pulling the man away from the two women. Rosemary found herself addressed by a pale looking Phryne Robinson.

"Mrs. Wilson, is your mother around?"

"I am afraid she is on her way to Lancefield to run some errands," the young woman explained with the appropriate sorrow before switching her smile back on. "But maybe I can be of help?"

"I doubt it," Phryne stated under her breath. "I was rather hoping she could enlighten me on something regarding Evie Harper and a rather delicate issue."

Mrs. Wilson tilted her head. She must have heard the name before, the Lady-Detective guessed, but Evie would have been missing years before she'd been born.

"I'm afraid I can't assist you there," Rosemary stated, looking actually sorry. "But maybe..."

Mia stepped forward just when her niece searchingly turned towards her.

"I am not certain what your fascination with Evie is, Mrs. Robinson, but as it happens your father-in-law isn't wrong. Discretion is not a strength of this family. There are few secrets that my sister wouldn't have shared with me the very moment she returned home in those days. And my memory for saucy details is incredible."

She aimed a cheeky smile at the Detective, an effort that lit up her face up most attractively, despite or possibly because, the pattern of wrinkles decorating it.

"A woman after my own heart," Phryne quipped, turning briefly in search for Jack who was nowhere to be seen before following the lady into the back. Rosemary looked after them with some confusion but decided to not bother herself with things that were none of her business.

X

The Inspector was pacing the guest room which was an exact mirror image of their own, watched by a pair of calm, grey eyes. Anger was still bubbling in his stomach. He was in a good mood to pack his suitcase and take Jane and Phryne back to St. Kilda where there were no ghosts to chase and no animals murdered in their stables. And certainly no John Robinson, acting like a spoiled child.

"What on earth is going on with you?" he asked. "Your behaviour towards Miss Green is plainly embarrassing."

"I'm sorry you feel that way," John said cooly but unmoved. Jack spun on his heels, his eyes blazing.

"Don't give me that, Father!" he spat. "You of all people know it inappropriate to speak to a lady like that. You would have personally smacked me if I'd ever dared aim that tone at anyone!"

"You are right," John said. "One should never be rude to a lady. But then there is no lady present in a conversation with Miss Amilia Green."

Jack shook his head slowly, trying to figure out the riddle his father had presented him with.

"What are you talking about?" he finally asked, not willing to play games.

"Are you aware that she tried to kill her husband back in 1902?" John asked.

"Fiance," Jack corrected automatically. "And she wasn't convicted."

"I will take that as a confirmation," his father said, raising his chin. "My superior back then decided it would be exciting to head to the trial. We didn't get many murders. I watched her wrap that judge around her little finger with her flirtation and her fluttering eyelashes. And now she was involved in another murder. Are you completely certain that you have locked up the right person, Jack? Because she hasn't changed at all!"

His voice had grown loud on the last sentence.

"Absolutely positive," Jack said calmly, a sudden suspicion sneaking around in his mind. "She had nothing to do with the murder of Mr. Steeger. And I doubt that she'd ever made an attempt on Mr. Happ's life either."

"How would you know?" the older man asked truculently, obviously unwilling to be convinced by silly things like reason.

"Because I am a policeman, Father. And I take my investigations seriously."

"I've never questioned that," John protested. His son stared at him, pondering if he should ask but decided to drop the subject.

"I expect you to behave civilised towards Miss Green," he stated before leaving the room. Sulky silence was his only answer before the door fell shut.