Evening. Following the request of the lovely Roseandthistle I've decided to do at least a weekly update to not let you hang out to dry completely on the Kurrajong front. I'm currently flat with a cold so making a little process. I hope you enjoyed the last episode as much as I have, it was rather magical.

Chapter 34: Blackbird Has Spoken

She heard the muffled scream, watched her husband's silhouette collapse. Phryne was yelling herself, she could tell, but no sense came out of her mouth. The dark shadow started running again as she scrambled to her knees beside the groaning Inspector, who was lying in a foetal position on the ground.

"Jack?"

"I'm fine," he groaned out without opening his eyes. He didn't seem fine, but she took it as encouragement to race after the intruder, bare soles slapping over compressed dirt. Phryne halted where the alley reached the street, turning on the spot. But there was no trail of the man. As she dragged air into her lungs and the tension drained away she became acutely aware of a burning sensation in her right foot. Her battered knees joined into the complaint as she limped back towards her husband. Jack had by now managed to peel himself from the ground and was holding onto the fence, battling with himself if to empty his stomach or not.

"Are you injured?" he asked when she approached, his voice still strangled with the effort of getting over the pain and nausea. She shook her head.

"I must have stepped into something."

"I'd recommend a pair of shoes for your next wild chase, Miss Fisher," Jack panted, attempting to hide his own limp as they made their way back into the garden.

"Does that mean you will be wearing a cup in future?" she smiled grimly.

"I generally expect common decency even in criminals," he complained. "He was not a very fair fighter."

"Thank God he didn't bring a pistol tonight."

Despite her playful tone, she wasn't in fact joking. For a few breathless moments Phryne had found herself in one of her nightmares until she had realised the nature of Jack's injury. The relief about him merely facing agony rather than a knife to the stomach or heart caused guilt to roar it's ugly head as she she watched him climb through the window under a variety of groans before barricading it as well as possible behind them. She'd naturally never experienced this kind of pain herself but had heard from various sources that it wasn't pleasant – many of them expressing themselves in the form of swearwords addressed at her. For the first time she wondered what effects exactly a hit aimed between the legs had in the long run.

"Maybe we should wake Mac," she proposed, noticing that Jack was still limping on his way up the stairs.

"Don't you dare," he growled. "I will certainly not have her poke around there."

"You might be inju-"

He raised his hand, cutting her off.

"It's not my first encounter of the kind, it won't be the last. Just leave it."

Jack's anger confused her but she decided to let it rest. He switched on the light, blinding both of them in the process and made to get changed into his pyjamas. Her confusion grew as she sat down at the edge of the bed, watching him and half-heartedly trying to twist her foot to look at the still stinging sole.

"Show me," he demanded, gently taking her ankle in a resemblance of a gesture earlier in the evening. He poked around for a little while, accompanied by her complains and grimaces, before finally showing her a thick thorn.

"You've collected a little souvenir in the garden."

"A lesson learned to take footwear for any nightly excursions," she smiled, trying to lighten the mood.

"A weapon might also be a good idea," he grumbled, slipping underneath the sheets and stretching out on his back. His flinch betrayed that he was still hurting. She switched off the lights before joining him, snuggling into his cotton covered shoulder and settling a hand on his stomach. He gently removed it from himself, but held onto it. Phryne waited.

"I let down my guard," he said into the darkness.

"You couldn't have known that he was hiding."

"He caught me on the hop and I dropped like a sack of potatoes."

An arm wrapped around her, waking in her a sudden suspicion what this was about besides the obvious embarrassment at having been beaten so easily.

"Why on earth did you chase after him?"

She shrugged.

"I'm am like a cat, I can't help following moving objects," she joked but realised that he was serious. "I could have defended myself, Jack, you know that."

There was silence for a long moment.

"He had a weapon, Phryne."

She started.

"He didn't use his fist..." Jack explained, flinching in memory. "There was something metallic involved."

"The murder weapon?"

This time it was the Inspector's turn to shrug.

"I didn't get a good look at it, it all happened too quickly and I was somewhat distracted."

Silence crept in as they tried to get comfortable. Jack had an increasingly hard time to accomplish this amongst the bruises he had collected in the last few days. His head was also pounding again after the powder had worn off, giving his still aching groin a run for it's money.

"Why break into the hotel's office?" Phryne asked what they both had been pondering. "They don't keep any money there."

"If it was in fact the killer he probably was more interested in whatever could lead us to him."

"So we should sift through the paperwork in the office," Phryne yawned. "We might have disturbed him before he could find what he was looking for."

"A very good idea, Miss Fisher," Jack mumbled, rolling onto his side to take some pressure from his stomach. "But if it's all the same to you, I would like to get some sleep first."

Minutes later a quiet duet of snoring filled the hotel room.

X

An annoying bird warbled right in front of his window, dragging him into consciousness. The magpie eyed the scowling man curiously, then flew away. The next thing assaulting John's senses was the flowery wall-paper that caused his head to throb with vigour. He certainly hadn't missed this about drinking! He rubbed his forehead and turned with a groan, stilled, moved his foot again to where it had brushed against a warm leg that was not any part of his body. Then he sat up, wild eyes dashing to the empty bottle on the small table, the two glasses, one of them still a lipstick smear on the rim. It couldn't be...

He reluctantly turned his head. All he could see was grey hair and a piece of shoulder, but the woman was certainly very real and there was absolutely no doubt on who it was - even though the circumstances of how she had ended up here were currently rather fuzzy. As quietly as he could manage, John slipped from the bed and threw on some completely mismatched clothes, his thoughts racing in endless circles, most of them along the lines of: "Oh God!". Of all women in the world it just had to be Mia Green!

He rushed out the door after the briefest of freshening ups, hoping to the Heavens that nobody would see her leave his room. Downstairs he ran into a rather disconcerted looking Rosemary Wilson.

"Good morning, Mr. Robinson," she smiled politely. "Would you have seen my aunt by any chance?"

"What would I have to do with your aunt's whereabouts?!"

The young woman stared at him in shock, looking like she was going to burst into tears and he regretted his rudeness instantly. After all it wasn't her fault that he couldn't hold his alcohol.

"My apologies. I didn't mean to bother you." She smiled thinly.

"Never you mind," he grumbled, halting against his better judgement. "You look, if you allow me to say, as if you've had a bad morning?"

Mrs. Wilson swallowed, obviously still battling with tears.

"Our office has been broken into and the kitchen rampaged and Mother is in tatters. Aunt Amilia usually is the one keeping a clear head in this house."

A sudden vivid flashback distracted John Robinson. A clear head she certainly hadn't kept in the last night. He swallowed down any comments.

"Have you spoken to my son about the break-in?" he asked. "It might be related to his case."

Rosemary Wilson shook her head, causing a ripple to go through her dark locks.

"The Inspector seems to be still asleep. I didn't feel it necessary to disturb him."

John nodded.

"Well, you've found yourself another policeman, young Lady. Lead on, I'll have a look at your break-in and maybe I can calm your mother."

In truth he currently felt about as calm as a hurricane, but then every distraction would do to not think about Aunt Amilia currently snoring into his pillow.

X

She was running through the forest, her heels sinking into the soft ground. The sun falling through the treetops drew mesmerising pattern of light across her, disorienting her, but she couldn't stop. She saw them from afar, Jack's body on the ground, the man over him still holding his tie, finishing the job. Foyle looked up from his murder and grinned. Phryne's feet still flew towards them, inching forward at a painfully slow speed, like trying to walk through water.

"Why did you let him die?" a voice asked. Phryne tried to ignore her. She didn't care about Evie Harper right now. She needed to get to Jack. A hand grasped her shoulder, held her tightly.

"Why did you let my son die?!"

"I didn't!"

She shook the woman off, trying to forget the coldness of her fingers. Foyle had disappeared by the time she reached Jack, scrambled to her knees beside him. She'd been there before, he was still alive, she just needed to loosen the tie...

"Why did you let him die?" a cold voice whispered beside her ear.

There was no pulse. Not the faintest bit of heartbeat, no sign of air rushing into his lungs. She laid her head onto his chest. Nothing.

"Why?" the question echoed in her ears. "Why did you let him die?"

"He's not dead!"

"You know better than that."

It was a male voice this time and for a brief moment she thought it was Jack, but his eyes were still closed, his lips an unhealthy shade of blue.

"Aidan Harper has paid the price. And more people will die."

She looked around where Jalboo stood, smiling at her. Phryne jumped to her feet, grabbing the surprised man by the collar.

"Is Jack going to be one of them!?" she asked. Jalboo just shrugged and she shook him. "Tell me!"

"I cannot tell you, Miss Fisher."

He dissolved between her hands, leaving her alone with Jack's body and the mesmerising light.

Phryne forced her eyes open, blinking into the bright sunlight flooding through the open window. Lay still until she had confirmed that there was in fact regular breathing sounding from the other side of the bed. Then she peeled herself from the sheets. She was drenched in sweat and filled with the numb longing for her bathtub at home. No wonder Jack was sick of their trip abroad, she pondered while she had another cat wash. He hadn't been over the moon by Iris's idea to begin with, much in difference to his wife. And now they were stuck here.

She turned, finding herself being watched. Jack's eyes followed her every movement as she approached the bed and sat by his bedside as if he was a sick child. His pyjamas were piled at her feet, he had gotten hot during the night.

"We've slept in," he stated, "I fear they have discovered both nightly intrusions by now."

"I would suspect so."

The conclusion convinced neither of them to make any move towards rectifying the situation. Instead, Jack lifted the covers and Phryne slipped underneath, snuggling her back against him.

"I can't say I am particularly keen on leaving this bed today," he mumbled into her hair.

Phryne smiled quietly, wrapping their fingers together and pulling them to her chest.

"We might have to stay here then."

Instead of an answer, Jack buried his nose in her locks. He was well aware that he was wasting time he could have just as well spent investigating. But there seemed not a fibre in his body which wasn't aching and not an inch of motivation to try and get his limbs into an upright position. Maybe they could allow themselves to escape for a little while?

"If Evie Harper took her own life, then Aidan discovering her body wasn't the motive for his murder," Phryne murmured, destroying her husband's short-lived daydream of a break from the case.

"Which means we are back to where we started," Jack sighed.

She pondered this for a while.

"Unless whoever shot Harper feared that it was murder."

Jack's arms tightened around her.

"You are thinking of Luke O'Neill?"

"He must have at least harboured some suspicions or the carved name wouldn't have compelled him to confront his father."

Phryne turned in Jack's arms, leaving an uncomfortable trail of elbows and knees for him to bear.

"You interviewed him."

The Inspector reluctantly opened his eyes but couldn't help but smile at Phryne's flushed cheeks. The chase suited her much better than being a worryguts.

"He seems to remember his cousin with much more fondness than during his lifetime," he recalled.

"Could be an act," Phryne stated thoughtfully.

The Inspector sighed, absent-mindedly settling a hand on her hip.

"He found the body, he doesn't have an alibi for the time of the murder and he is in love with the man's wife, even though he wouldn't admit to that under torture. And the grudge between them is known across town."

"So he has an awful lot of motive."

"Undeniably," Jack admitted grumpily.

"Toss on top his fear of having his family torn apart..."

"And Grace Harper's dubious request for his help to solve her marriage issues," the Inspector threw in.

"...we have a pretty clear case," Phryne stated. Jack averted his eyes to watch his fingertips trail over her arm.

"A bit too clear for my taste."

Phryne touched her grumbling husband's cheek.

"You have taken a liking to him," she stated.

"He is not a puppy, Phryne."

She grinned.

"You aren't denying it then?"

The satisfaction in her still naked features was unmissable. Jack groaned, trying to find a way to explain himself.

"Luke O'Neill is an admirable young man," he said. "It takes some character to carry yourself with dignity in such a love triangle and be a reliable friend to the woman you were hoping to marry."

"The woman who kissed him the other night."

Jack started.

"I believe I forgot to tell you," Phryne grinned. "Mr. Jalboo witnessed a rather indiscreet encounter the evening of the murder."

The Inspector frowned.

"Did he reciprocate?"

"Apparently it was one-sided and your friend proceeded to be furious with her."

She could feel her husband take a breath of relief.

"Then it makes little sense that he would go and shoot his rival afterwards."

"True," Phryne smiled. "Unless his anger wasn't about the kiss."

"You think she asked him for a favour?"

"Mrs. Harper might have considered a more hands-on approach on solving her marriage issues?"

The Inspector's features darkened.

"I can't see it," he said after a moment of pondering. Phryne decided to not ask if that was the Inspector talking or Jack, who had found something about the young man which touched him. She didn't know what it was but it was rare enough for her husband to be biased in a case that it woke her curiosity.

"What about Packard?" he asked. "If he inherits the farm that he believes should by right be his, he still has a motive. And he was the last person to see him."

"We don't know if he did in fact open the door," Phryne pointed out. "But lets assume he didn't. Who else could Harper have met in the middle of town? Someone he would have taken out there to search for his mother?"

"Mr. Jalboo? After all he was the one to tell him where to look."

It was Phryne's turn to frown. She felt strangely connected with the man who haunted her dreams.

"What reason could he have to shoot him?"

"He has been living for three decades with the O'Neills. He is regarded family," Jack explained his reasoning.

"So, if Harper threatened to expose them rather than just make his peace with the past..." Phryne thought aloud.

"Then his loyalty to the O'Neills might have caused him to take desperate measures."

Phryne hummed unhappily, pulling herself up on her elbow.

"We still don't know who Harper's visitor was," she changed the subject.

"We know who it wasn't. I took fingerprints from Luke O'Neill. They weren't a match."

"What about his parents? They had plenty of reason to hide their secrets."

"They would have to know that a murder right on Evie's grave would draw attention to it."

"Their secret was about to be exposed and pulling a trigger doesn't demand much thought."

For a long moment they lay in silence, letting their thoughts drift. A magpie warbled into the pause.

"I wonder if we disturbed the killer last night."

"And why he was carrying if he had not intention of using his gun," the Inspector grumbled. "To shoot at least."

Phryne felt her stomach churning.

"I don't care for his reasoning as much as for the fact that he didn't," she pointed out sharper than she had intended. Jack looked at her in confusion before he cleared his throat. But as much as he thought about it, he couldn't come up with anything to say.

"We need to find out what, if anything, is missing from the office," he finally stated weakly. Phryne nodded, then sat up abruptly.

"In fact, there is."

The Inspector watched on in astonishment as she climbed from the bed and started riffling through her things before returning triumphantly with a slim folder and climbing back under the sheets.

"I almost forgot about this," she grinned, opening the council protocols filled with the tidy handwriting of a school teacher. "Now lets see what our 'nasty threesome' is up to."