Thanks for all the replies to my question. I'm especially happy that some of the otherwise silent ones made themselves heard - though I of course also appreciated and enjoyed the input of my regulars. ;) I have taken your comments to heart and have started developing a new storyline. That could take a few days, as work is currently sucking up most of my time and all of my energy, but it will happen.

Chapter 21: Pear

Phryne was woken rudely from restless dreams by Mr. Butler beating down her door.

"Miss. The Inspector is on the phone. It's urgent I believe."

With a start she sat up in bed.

"I'm coming."

Her thoughts racing, she slipped into her morning gown and all but ran downstairs. Jack calling her, especially 'urgently' did not bode well. It could really only mean that Morell had walked and he was now scared for the lives of the people in her house. But surely, the man wouldn't dare to come here in the middle of the day?

"Jack?"

"Phryne." He panted. He sounded indeed disturbed, confused even. Miss Fisher did her hardest to listen to his rambling. When she hung up, she was still in a hundred minds about what she had just heard. Nevertheless, she stormed upstairs, fumbling into the first choice of clothes she could find and was out the door within minutes. The Hispano did its owner proud, taking her with high speed through the busy streets of Melbourne's morning. She heard the sirens when she got closer to the city, held her breath when she turned the last corner, seeing the Windsor's long lines of window glitter in the morning light. People crowded the streets, obviously the news had gone around. Parking on a footpath, Phryne left her car behind and tried to fight her way through the piles of onlookers. Near the ramp leading up to the stairs, there was no further getting through, as uniformed officers were holding back the curious masses. But behind the black shoulders, Phryne could spot the sheet covering the formless pile on the floor. Beside it, kneeling, was Jack, her Jack, chalk-white.

"You can't come through here Ma'am." The poor Constable, who was currently standing in her way, protested. In short resolve, she thrust her card at him like a badge.

"Phryne Fisher, and you will let me past, right now!"

He read the card, confused by her pure authority for long enough, so she could slip through beneath his arm.

Jack didn't look up, when she crouched down beside him. He was staring at the sheet as if trance.

"It's him, alright." He said, the only sign that he had noticed her arrival. "It's Morell. Shot in the middle of the day, in a busy street."

"Did he leave a Number?" Phryne asked quietly. She could not imagine that he would have had time to do that, before people closed in. Jack shook his head.

"No, no number. Too daring. But Morell had this stashed in his pocket."

Miss Fisher gently took the piece of paper. Their fingers brushed together and the pure coldness of his skin almost burned on her's. She forced herself to not look at him. Not pay any attention to the grey tinge of his skin and his dark eyes that seemed to be lying deep in their caves. Jack was having a hell of a week and only last night, he had seemed so close. Now, his serial killer was stepping up his game. And it was obviously not Morell, who was cooling at their feet right now. Carefully she unfolded the note in her hands. Under the usual three words, the still wrong third monkey, was written: "Right tree, wrong apple, Inspector!"

The Honourable Phryne Fisher shuddered in the warmth of the late morning. The killer was watching Jack's moves. And he wasn't happy with them. This was not just a kill, it was a message. Inspector Robinson had gotten the wrong man and Morell had died for it. Right infront of the Parliament, in broad daylight. No wonder Jack looked like walking death. In fact, right now she herself wanted nothing but to pack up her family and leave. Run, as far as they could. Jack had the killer's attention and next time he might not be satisfied with just stabbing him in the leg.

The arrival of a tall man with a round face ripped her from her dark visions. Deputy-Commissioner Fredrik glanced briefly at the woman holding evidence in her fingers while crouching over the corpse, then decided, that she could not be there. He had a talent for ignoring things that he'd rather not deal with. DI Robinson had seen him and pulled himself to his full height. The despair that had ruled his features just a minute ago, vanished and made room for self-righteous anger. It was really quite impressive, Phryne found.

"Well, Deputy-Commissioner, I believe you were right. Mr. Morell was not the killer." He stated sarcastically. "Even though I'm quite sure, he currently would prefer to be still sitting in my cells."

The higher ranking officer didn't answer, instead staring at the body at his feet.

"My God, so Morell really was shot right here. I couldn't believe it. But how could this have happened?"

Phryne resisted the urge to roll her eyes and stayed quiet, taking the chance to lift the sheet and have a closer look, while listening with half an ear to Jack Robinson explaining the events to his superior.

Morell had, after his release, decided to head to the Windsor to freshen up, then to return to Parliament as if nothing had happened. Show himself, as he had explained to his man. Defeat the rumours before they spread. Passers-by had seen him argue with a tall, dark-haired man, right here on the ramp to the building, then a gun had gone off and before anyone could react the man had been gone and the politician bleeding out onto the pavement. He had been dead by the time anyone had reached him, shot into the chest from close proximity. He looked quite ugly in death, Phryne realised. His handsome features were distorted; but mostly, the aura that had made him charming, was gone and the man himself really wasn't all that fascinating. In fact, he had something dark about him now, grim. Miss Fisher remembered last night, Caroline Awning. Morell had paid her money! But for what, if he was not Emily's tormentor? Or had they gotten it wrong? Was the killing not connected to what had happened to Louisa Bryant? That was too much coincidence to prove true. So, was he covering up for someone else? Protecting someone? Possibly to save his own reputation, his career? It sounded like something Morell was capable of. And the killer had obviously not appreciated the efforts on his account. Phryne felt disgust rise like bile in her throat. She dropped the sheet and pulled herself to her feet. Swept her eyes over the area. They landed on the stone balustrade framing the ramp. On a hunch she walked over. A perfect place to hide and wait. Something glittered in the grass.

"Inspector!" She yelled. Hugh Collins, who had been fending off a near hysterical woman with a presumably rather heavy crush on the handsome politician, came rushing first. The Detective-Inspector was kept for a moment longer by the Deputy-Commissioner. Obviously Fredrik found it beyond even his power to ignore a woman yelling at the top of her lungs.

"Who is that?" He asked with a grimace to his face that promised problems.

"That is the Honourable Miss Fisher. She will help me make my case watertight this time, Sir." Jack said stiffly and walked off with an faint excuse to his lips, before the man could respond. The Deputy-Commissioner stood for a moment longer, his mouth agape, then pulled a red and white chequered handkerchief from his pocket and dried his sweaty forehead, before stalking of in the direction of his car. He had many calls to make and most of them would be unpleasant.

Jack did not care about his sad fate in the slightest at this point, as he, careful not to smudge any prints, fished the weapon from the grass.

"A Webley. Probably a service revolver." He stated. Phryne sniffed.

"Definately has been fired."

"Collins, get this checked for prints, will you?" The Inspector demanded and handed the weapon over carefully to the obedient officer.

Then he crouched down in the grass, stared at the place where it had been trampled down, as if someone had sat here for a long time.

"The killer was waiting on him. But why wait in hiding and then start an open argument with Morell for a street full of witnesses to see?"

Miss Fisher looked around. There was plenty of room to escape. Nobody really knew in what direction the man had run. He had vanished like a ghost. Always like a ghost.

"I feel like he's toying with me, Phryne. He's trying to tell me something, I just can't work it out."

The lady-detective chewed on her lower lip in thought, then a smile lit up her face.

"Maybe we should ask someone who is a whole lot clearer."

X

The blonde girl was shaking in a mixture of anger and fear, when she slammed the door shut behind herself. How could he dare?! She grabbed a teapot that was innocently sitting on the otherwise empty kitchen bench and hurled it against the nearest wall. With a satisfactory noise the porcelain burst into a thousand pieces. Susan sat down, still panting and slowly felt the anger melt away. It didn't really matter, did it? Morell was dead, she could not say that she was sorry about that in the slightest. Even though it had shocked her somewhat, when in the middle of that argument the guy had taken the weapon and shot. Why on earth would he shoot him? Of course, he would be shaking in his little booties by now that all his dark secrets would be discovered, but shooting Morell, while the Inspector was still believing him to be the killer was rather silly, wasn't it? If Robinson didn't figure it out soon, she would have to actually talk. She didn't want to talk!

Louisa would have made her a cup of tea right now, telling her, that everything would be better after a cuppa and a moment of peace. Of course, she couldn't now. Tears stung at the back of her eyes, as Susan pulled herself to her feet. She would make herself a cup of tea, she decided. If she could find another teapot.

X

The Constable watching over the hospital door saluted when Jack Robinson approached, even nodding in a friendly way to Miss Fisher. That was an unusual occurrence, making her wonder briefly how his co-workers felt about her involvement in their investigations. This string of thoughts snapped as soon as the door was opened by the Inspector's hands and gave the view free to the pale, blonde girl lying in bed. Caroline Awning did not look well, which was probably to be expected of someone who just barely escaped dying of arsenic poisoning.

"Miss Awning. Glad to see you alive." The Inspector smiled. "Do you remember me?"

The girl nodded.

"Hard to forget a copper."

Jack suddenly recalled, why he hadn't taken a particular liking to the woman.

"But thank you for saving my life, I guess." She said for good measure, reconciling him somewhat.

"My pleasure, Miss Awning. Now, I have some questions-"

"Who's she, then?"

Caroline pointed at Phryne, who stood somewhat in the background.

"'She' is the woman you threw up on last night." Miss Fisher stated calmly, sensing her patience was quickly wearing thin. She felt herself wonder, why of all the victims, this one had to be the one they had saved. To her surprise the pale creature in bed actually started to giggle, as if they had just shared a great joke.

"Ah yes, I remember that. Sorry bout the skirt. Now, what did you wanna ask me, Inspector?"

Jack cleared his throat, sharing a quick look with Phryne. She did look very polite, with thunderclouds brewing over her head. He smirked and returned his attention to the girl.

"Miss Awnings, we asked you last night, where you got the money from, do you recall this?"

"Yeah, and I told you already, it was Morell."

"Mr. Morell has been shot this morning!"

Caroline had the decency to look shocked for a moment. Then she nodded.

"Well, I guess, the guy would have it in for him, wouldn't he? Him being able to blab and all?"

Jack started.

"So you didn't believe, that Morell was the serial killer?"

To his utter astonishment, the woman broke into giggles again.

"Morell? That tightarsed bastard? Nah! He's tried to cover it up, that's all."

Miss Fisher pulled herself a chair up to the bed.

"Caroline, may I call you that? Good. Why don't you tell us from the start, how this happened."

The girl looked at the smile on Miss Fisher's face, that wasn't sincere, but held the certain promise, that there was trouble if she was not cooperative. The Inspector had leaned back on the other side of her bed and looked at her in cool patience. She was trapped.

"Can I keep the money, if I talk?" She asked, determined, to get something out of this.

"We can have a chat about that, once you are done." Detective-Inspector Robinson stated. The girl drew a deep breath.

"Alright. So, I don't know, what you found out so far, but the Mortons used to have their little 'parties'. Quite often. Invited all the rich and famous of the city occasionally, even though they were all hiding behind their masks, but of course, we recognised them anyways. But mostly it was the usual troops. Half of them from Morton's club I suppose, the other half acquaintances from all over the place. The painter was quite often there and his girlfriend, Morell of course, Howards, Fletcher, the doctor and his wife sometimes, but not that night, if I recall. They had invited that young actor, I don't remember his name, but I think he's quite a star now. Blonde hair."

"Charles Bungard?" Phryne asked, her blue eyes glittering.

"That's the one. Was his first time. Quite obviously. I think they asked him to bring some tender meat along, cause he had two girls in tow when he came. Had to loan masks, the more experienced brought their own along. I don't think either of the three knew what they got themselves into."

"What sort of party are we talking?" DI Robinson asked. Caroline smiled an enigmatic smile.

"Not the sort you are used to going to, Inspector. A bit more 'scandalous'. A good dinner of course, plenty of alcohol, some opium, cocaine and later in the night, relations of a certain kind, if you understand my drift. Kiki and I sometimes joined in if they didn't have enough tender meat around. Not that night though, we were just serving."

"What about Miss Strangewater?" Jack asked, suddenly nervous. He had completely forgotten about the third maid being in possible danger. But to his relief, Miss Awning laughed.

"Annie? Nah, she's too prudish for that. They usually sent her away those nights to take care of her poor old granny. I don't know if she even suspected something, though you can't be that blind, can you?"

Jack and Phryne shared a look over her bed.

"So, there was a 'party'? I suspect on the 24th of November?" Phryne urged.

"Might have been. I can't recall the date. But something went wrong that night. One of the girls screamed so loud that I thought the ceiling would come down. We rushed into the room, he was having his way with her on the floor, she obviously didn't like it. Think he had been a bit too hard on the drugs that night. He tried to shut her up. Beat her head against the floor."

Phryne turned away in disgust.

"And nobody stopped him?"

"All happened really fast. She stopped screaming. Stopped moving altogether. Everybody was in a bloody panic. The other girl broke down in hysterics, called him a murderer, she was dragged off by Bungard and the Morton's. I think Fletcher and Morell made a trip with the car later, gotten rid of the body. I have no idea, what they done with it, but I never heard anything bout it again. Next thing I know, the Morton's want to get rid of me. Tell me and Kiki to find ourselves a new household. I didn't want to, told him I'd blab, if they insisted. Two days later, Morell shows up, hands me a huge cheque and asks me to keep my trap shut and vanish. So that's what I did."

"And it didn't occur to you, to go to the police, after you witnessed a woman being raped and murdered?" Jack Robinson asked in a strained voice that told Phryne, he was barely holding on to sanity at this stage.

"Who would that have helped, then? The girl was dead. And the Morton's weren't bad people after all. Though I do think, they never gotten really over it."

"And now, when the murders happened, you didn't think, that it might be a good idea to talk now? Maybe save some people, including yourself?"

"I was kind of hoping that he would not kill me, if I keep my trap shut. Didn't seem that unreasonable to me. When he wasn't high."

"Who, Caroline?!" Phryne asked, impatiently.

A pair of blue eyes turned to her.

"Howards of course. Didn't I say?"

Jack and Phryne stared at each other, then jumped up in unison.

"No, no, you didn't." The Inspector stated, before he flew after Miss Fisher.