Chapter 26: Cueca

There was something unsettling to the empty spots on the walls, Phryne caught herself thinking while she watched Julian take off his coat. As if the missing pictures had left an unfillable void that now wafted and twirled through the quiet halls of 'Madame Claudine's' like a ghost. The ghost of a forgotten sister. Mrs. Robinson shuddered.

Julian approached for the dance without a word. He looked different in the dim light she found, deep shadows underneath his eyes which had turned an even darker shade since this morning. Maybe it wasn't the light, maybe it was his suffering soul. She couldn't help but think of Jack, his expression when he had left her standing in the parlour.

Julian's hands were cold and grabbed onto her with unusual roughness. Phryne tightened her grip on his back as well. They started walking when suddenly his feet changed direction, hurling her into a spin that certainly wasn't part of the choreography. Phryne felt her heart speed up as she stopped too close to him for comfort, stepping between his legs, pivoting in the opposite direction of where he was leading her. She was certainly not going to be played with by a cross man!

An angry expression answered her, his finger's digging into her arm as he tossed her over the dance floor. A sharp heel burying itself into his toes drew a surprised intake of breath from him a mere second later. Squinting at her he pulled her back into a tight embrace, their feet moved in angry unison, sweat already pouring from their bodies. Phryne's eyes were dark with excitement and rage when his fingers slipped along the outline of her body. She ripped his cheeky hands from herself, positioning them back onto her arms. But the tantalising sensation lingered on her skin. Another twirl, her back sliding down his chest, her blood rushing in her ears. She could feel his heartbeat through the thin layers separating them, his thigh rubbing against hers when he ripped her around, now clamping her against his body. She could feel every inch of him, his excitement, the rush that was mirrored in every fibre of herself. It was intoxicating and Phryne wanted to scream with the frustration of all her thoughts still turning around nothing but Jack.

Julian was close now, so close and pictures returned of the morning, of him leaning in to kiss her. Phryne sensed the pull of his lips, the dangerous expression in his eyes and she felt temptation so strong she thought she could almost grab it with her hands. It would be so easy. Just a little step over the line, a simple move.

But she didn't and then Julian spun her and the moment had passed, the thoughts drowned in the exquisite trance. Trembling and panting they finally came to a stop, their limbs entangled in a compromising position, still feeling each other's taunt muscles under each fingertip. Julian gasped for breath.

"Amazing," he managed to say while he gently retreating. "Are you quite certain that you haven't danced in years?"

"I may have dabbled," Phryne grinned, sorting her clothes. She could still feel the thrill but it was wearing off now and she realised that she had been close to doing something she'd live to regret. There were enough things to be ashamed of for one evening.

"I've met a very civilised dancer two years ago, Sasha De Lisse? Not a tanguero by trade but then you couldn't have told when he did tango."

Phryne smiled despite her unsettled feelings. Riley squinted at her, offering her a seat.

"I heard he was involved in a cocaine scandal," he said. "Not that I care for gossip much, but I recall my mother being rather excited. Supposedly he performed a scandalous dance at a social function a few years back. Right in front of the eyes of the collected hospital board. I take my hat off to him."

Phryne grinned, graciously accepting a glass of water from her dancing partner.

"I assure you there was nothing scandalous about it, but it was very enjoyable. Much more than being locked into a steam room with him later on."

Julian looked at her for a long moment, then burst into a comfortingly warm laugh.

"You are priceless, Phryne. And you will have to tell me the whole story."

"Oh, there is nothing much to it," Mrs. Robinson quipped, enjoying his attention. "One of my acquaintances turned out to be a Drug Baroness who didn't take kindly to the discovery. So she tried to kill us by locking us up in a bathhouse, only dressed in towels."

Julian watched her with astonished amusement.

"Jack... Inspector Robinson had to bust us out," Phryne explained, smiling fondly at the memory

at her husband's expression. More laughter answered her.

"I assume he was not amused about finding you with a scantly dressed man?" Julian asked. "I am suspecting that I am barely escaping arrest every time I am dancing with you."

"We weren't married yet," Phryne answered, her mood cooling off. "In fact, I've never intended to get married."

There was silence for a long moment as both wandered off on their own trails of thought.

"I can relate," Julian finally said, his voice fully changed. "I rather think at the moment I might never marry myself."

Surprised, Phryne looked up at his handsome features. He was staring out the window, his pain obvious.

"A broken heart heals," she said.

"I am not certain if this one will," he argued. "You see, I found this one precious thing many search for all their lives: a perfect creature. And now my heart... I don't think it will ever be the same."

"So what keeps you from pursing her?" Phryne asked, her thoughts involuntarily drifting to Jack.

Julian sighed.

"I have," he smiled. "I've conquered – and then I've lost. Through my own cowardice, it's lost forever. That is not a very comforting thought."

Phryne wanted to say something wise, but nothing would come to her. She was hardly in a position to repair someone else's relationship while she couldn't even manage to speak to her own husband in a calm manner.

"I fear love might not be worth the effort. It tends to end in pain," Julian Riley smiled grimly, rising. "Shall we again?"

A thought occurred to Mrs. Robinson as she let him lead her back onto the dance floor. Strange words that she had picked up on in an interview.

"This perfect creature... wasn't Nicolas Steeger by any chance?" she asked, just after they had started dancing. Julian was so surprised that he actually stepped onto her foot.

X

She was woken in the morning light by a pounding headache. An empty tumbler on her bedside table reminded her of a few too many drinks after she had returned home and found both hers and Jack's beds empty. Miss Fisher had never been in the habit of drinking for anything but pleasure, yet there had been nothing enjoyable about pouring whisky down her throat last night while pacing her parlour long after the Collins had picked up their son and Mr. Butler had withdrawn to bed. She had finally retired upstairs, attempted to absorb herself in her book. Yet Jack hadn't come home. He was with Riya. Dancing.

Mr. Butler had been keen to inform her of this and while he didn't seem to like it any more than she did, he had also made a point of reminding her that neither of their partners were silly enough to overstep the lines. Phryne was certain he had meant well but his friendly words had merely caused a flashback to Julian's tempting lips. The resulting guilt racing through stomach had caused truculent anger to flare up. She was after all not the one who'd been out in somebody else's arms long after midnight.

She shook off the memories and turned her aching head in the knowledge that she wouldn't find Jack. The sheets were smooth and untouched on his side, wherever she hadn't crinkled them in tossing.

Now thoroughly angered and petrified Mrs. Robinson crawled out of bed, not bothering to fix herself up in any way as she slung her dressing gown over her shoulders. His withdrawal was simply childish at this stage. They had argued but surely there was no need to pout still? Not sharing her bed was about the harshest punishment Jack was capable of and that conclusion frightened and infuriated her in equal amounts.

Hoping that he hadn't left for work yet, mostly because she felt the intense urge to yell at him, she ripped the door open to storm out - or at least she tried to. She moved the handle again, but the door wouldn't budge.

Hysterical laughter was rising in her throat as Phryne took three steps backwards, staring at the key she had herself turned in the lock, sometime between her third and fifth Scotch. She finally left the bedroom mere moments later.

"Mr. Butler?", she called, jumping down the stairs.

Her servant showed somewhat confused by her unexpected shift of mood, in the door to the dining room.

"Is Jack still in the house?"

"I'm afraid he has left for the Station an hour ago, Ma'am. He asked numerous times for you though."

Phryne brushed past her servant and into the dining room.

"Would you run me a bath, please, Mr. B. I believe I might be calling into City South after breakfast."

X

DI Robinson was rather aimlessly shuffling around the papers cluttering up his desk when the door flew open and in swept Phryne.

"So, have you found the murderer yet, Inspector?" she asked, climbing onto the edge of his desk and crossing her legs.

Jack found himself beyond confused at her mood change.

After having forgotten the time at Mrs. Santi's house, he had raced home at 2 o'clock in the morning, fully expecting to run into a wall of anger. Instead he had walked into a locked bedroom door. Considering that Phryne had in all their fights – and there had been a fair few – never resolved to such a measure, it wasn't surprising that he had spent the rest of the night tossing and turning in his own bed, drifting in and out of unsettling dreams. Finding any brain space right now to discuss a case was difficult enough without her waving her legs in front of his nose.

"I'm afraid he's still not giving himself up," he finally said, his voice dripping sarcasm.

"Well, that's rather impolite of him," Phryne quipped, leaning in to touch his cheek. Jack's eyes closed involuntarily. Her hand was warm and soft and he felt the urge to snuggle into it and go to sleep.

"I'm sorry, Phryne," he heard his own rough voice say.

There was no answer as her hand slipped away. When he opened his eyes again he realised that his top drawer was open and Phryne leaning over his chair, her slim fingers running down his arms.

"What are you doing?" he asked, his hair rising in his neck when he felt cold metal brush against his wrists.

"Phryne?"

His handcuffs clicked shut, securing him tightly to the chair. Jack squirmed, trying to escape her evil joke.

"That's not a very funny trick!"

He twisted, attempting to look at her while she gently bit into his neck.

"I was not trying to be funny," she whispered beside his ear. He couldn't help the moan escaping his throat nor his body reacting as her hands trailed over his chest.

"This is my place of work," he ground out.

"You don't say, Inspector?"

There it was again, the evil glitter in her eyes. Jack felt panic rise in his throat. She hadn't even locked the door; any moment one of his men might walk in and he'd have to explain this!

Nevertheless he groaned when she pulled his knees apart and started to unbutton his trousers.

"Phryne, please," he begged, not sure what he was pleading for anymore. There was no answer, possibly because her tongue was currently occupied with other things. Jack watched her, torn between panic and arousal, anger and breathless passion.

"Please, we can't do this hee..."

Her red clips closed around him, causing his sentence to end in a moan. Jack surrendered, mostly out of a lack of choice. Miss Fisher always got what she wanted. Currently it was him. What had sparked this he wasn't sure, but he couldn't stop her and he wasn't certain if he truly wanted to. Falling into the cloud of lust, squirming underneath her ministrations, he missed the knock.

"Inspector?"

Jack ripped his eyes open, wondering if Hugh Collins would ever recover from what he must be seeing. It took him a moment to realise that the Constable was still standing in the door, looking at him expectantly. Then it dawned on him that the desk was currently barely hiding Phryne. As long as Hugh stayed where he was, he might be able to play this role. And as long as he could keep his head, Phryne's flicking tongue reminded him. Repressing a groan, Jack cleared his throat.

"What is it, Collins?"

"The Gallery on the phone for you, Sir."

"Tell them I will..." He almost lost it as she intensified her attentions and for the first time it occurred to Jack that that might be sole purpose of her visit. To humiliate him. "I'll get back to them," he managed to finish the sentence. "Once it has quietened down."

Hugh opened his mouth, obviously wanting to protest the utter quietness of the Station, but Jack had long since perfected the stare that told any conversation partner that he was currently not willing to discuss his position. The Constable took the hint and pulled the door shut, leaving behind an Inspector who felt faint with relief. It didn't last though. A moment later it became clear that Phryne was not going to resign herself to teasing him, she was fully intent on crumbling his last bit of self-control.

Fear mixed into Jack's growing ecstasy. She was angry and he completely at her mercy. She could do anything from leaving him cuffed in his unbuttoned trousers, exposing him to the ridicule of his men to stopping at the last moment and damning him to squirm in his seat for the rest of the day, unable to concentrate. But looking down at her he knew with sudden clarity that she would do neither. She would leave the decision to him if he allowed her to push him over the edge and that was worse than either option. Because he couldn't fight her and that had nothing to do with his handcuffs.

A brief moment of desperation drowned in Phryne's warm mouth as Jack climbed the last few feet. His body writhing against the bounds and her, he wasn't certain if the officers could hear him and it scared him more than anything that he really didn't care.

"Phryne," he gasped one last time. Then everything became fire and light as he drifted amongst the stars. A moment of perfect ecstasy.

"Inspector?"

The voice came from far, far away. A hand touched his shoulder.

"Inspector Robinson?"

Jack ripped his eyes open to stare into the face of Hugh Collins.

"Dear God," he groaned in shock, trying to find Phryne's eyes, but she was gone, his trousers completely in order even though there was a suspiciously sticky feel to them.

"What is it, Collins?" he brought out after a moment of collecting his thoughts.

"I.. believe you had fallen asleep, Sir. I thought it better to wake you."

Jack sorted his tie in an effort to win time. Well, humiliation was obviously the order of the day. Phryne would be highly amused by this story. If she should be currently in the mood to speak with him. At least the Constable didn't return his own speech about the impossibility to doze off on the job.

"Thank you, Collins. I'm afraid I didn't get much sleep last night."

"I apologize, Sir. We were not able to calm him down."

Jack realised that the Constable believed Tommy to have been the reason for his sleepless night and could barely contain a bitter laugh.

"I believe that's normal in infants," he said. "Did your wife enjoy the night out?"

Hugh blushed.

"I thought it might make her feel more normal if we'd do normal things..." he said, slightly embarrassed. "And Mr. Butler offered to take care of our son-"

"There is nothing wrong with taking your wife out for a dinner," Jack said firmly, finally getting his grasp on reality back. He managed a smile and found some relief in the grin that was returned.

"She was quite happy. And then she got upset, because she missed little Tommy."

Jack grinned, swallowing down a sarcastic comment about young mothers and their mysterious needs.

"Now, Collins, has the gallery telephoned yet?"

"No, Sir, but I did get the information on Mr. Steeger's account with the bank."

The Constable laid down a piece of paper, covered in numbers.

"Anything of interest?" Jack asked, stifling a yawn. He truly wasn't in the mood to decipher this right now.

"Nothing, Sir. Steeger was neither rich nor poor. His wife had no reason to off him."

The Inspector frowned at the Constable. He hadn't even expected to find a motive for Camila Steeger to kill her husband. But neither had he thought much more about her being one of the very few people who knew about his weak heart. He needed to speak to Phryne and find out what had transpired from her interview with the widow. It took him a moment to decide if he felt ready for a conversation with her. But just when he grasped for the telephone the door flew open and his wife swept in.

"Good morning, Hugh, Jack." She nodded, climbing the edge of his desk and fishing for the bank details with her usual infallible aim at the most important thing in the room. Jack's fingers were itching to stop her, but he didn't. It was probably a good idea to not pour oil into the flames.

"Have you found the murderer yet, Inspector?" she asked while she studied the piece of paper. Jack mouth ran dry.

"He hasn't given himself up yet," he heard himself say.

"That's a bit of a shame," Phryne said, dropping the sheet that obviously held nothing of interest.

The Inspector just stared at her, his dream vividly returning. His confusion was likely obvious to her but Phryne just watched him before finally tilting her head .

"Jack?"

He cleared his throat.

"Did you find out anything of interest last night?"

"Quite a few things," she smirked, crossing her legs.

"Would you care to share said things?" he asked sarcastically and was completely ignored.

"For one that Julian Riley did not have a love affair with Mr. Steeger."

Jack leaned back, frowning.

"I wasn't aware that was in question," he stated calmly. In the background Hugh Collins slowly turned a shade of purple.

"Inspector, I..." he pointed at the door.

"I believe there is someone at the counter," Jack said, without tearing his eyes away from Phryne and repressed a grim smile as the Constable fled the room.

"Poor Hugh. Catholics seem to have this strange opposition to the love between two men," Phryne quipped.

"He has been Catholic for less than a year," the Inspector pointed out.

"That will do it," Phryne grinned, shuffling on her place on the desk and bringing back flashbacks that sent hot shivers down Jack's spine. He felt rather annoyed by the tightness of his throat and her little games. How had she progressed from locking him out of her bedroom to happily teasing him?

"I believe you wanted to tell me why you suspected a romantic involvement between your dancing partner and our murder victim," he reminded her, slowly losing his temper.

"Oh yes. Mrs. Steeger has made some hints that their relationship was much closer than Julian would admit. It was purely platonic as it turns out though, all very boring."

"I'm sorry that Mr. Steeger's love life failed to entertain you."

Phryne hummed her approval.

"Julian's love life, however, is much more interesting," she pointed out with a mischievous smile. Her husband battled down any and all feelings of jealousy. This was not what he needed to worry about right now! Especially since she continued: "Jane was right, he did have a secret love affair. In fact, I found the letter she was talking about."

She pulled a small envelope from her handbag.

"I assume Mr. Riley is not aware that you 'found' his possession?" Jack asked, raising an eyebrow. Nevertheless he accepted the letter from her hands.

"He wasn't very forthcoming with the information on who the mystery lady is," Phryne explained calmly while he read. "I had to steal it from his pocket while we were dancing, which took some skill."

Jack didn't answer to her teasing, instead stating dryly: "Jane was also right about it not being overly well written. And about the naked bodies in the moonlight, one very obviously female. But how does this help us?"

"Look at the signature, Jack!"

He squinted.

"C. Camila Steeger?"

"Or Madame Claudine?"

Jack all but laughed, trying to imagine the lady writing soppy love letters to Julian Riley.

"Or neither. A comparison with the hand writing should clear that up," he stated, folding the letter back into it's envelope. "Was there anything of interest to be gathered from the widow?"

Phryne shook her head.

"She wanted to be independent from Madame Claudine and put the thumb-screws onto her husband. Which explains his dabbling into blackmail."

Jack nodded.

"She is also quite convinced that her employer would be the only person who would have had an interest in poisoning her."

"There is certainly no love lost between those two," the Inspector stated. "But it all doesn't add up. Why kill her and damage her own business?"

"People have done sillier things in a jealous rage," Phryne quipped, seemingly oblivious to the Inspector's frown. He was fully aware that she was provoking him but had no desire to go down that path.

"Madame Germain doesn't strike me as the raging type," he said sharply. "But then, neither does Miss Green."

"What are you on about, Jack?" Phryne asked, seemingly disinterested flicking through one of his folders. He took it from her with a rather harsh grip, all but throwing it at the other end of the desk.

"I believe you were too distracted by Mr. Riley's pockets to realise that we have an accused murderess amongst our witnesses."