Chapter 37: Dragon Dance

Jane watched little rivers pour down the outside of the window in an ever changing pattern. Her mood had improved in the duration of her trip to the north. It was a long journey to Vicky's home - she didn't mind.

It was strangely cosy inside the tram, looking out into the rain and also: she had nothing better to do any more. Jane certainly wasn't going to go to that stupid presentation. Let alone the ball!

It had occurred to her at some point that Victoria Adams might not be in the mood for company since she wasn't feeling well, but she had shaken the thought off. The quiet piano-player must be lonely at times. She never appeared to not be working, always a quiet presence in the dancing school that nobody seemed to pay much mind to. No wonder she dreamed of being a poet. Famous. Cherished. Loved.

In her time in the orphanage and in Mr. Merton's house Jane's had dreams as well, of a better life – or maybe just of a clean place to sleep and someone who would hug her instead of yell. Of her mother suddenly coming to her senses and picking her up or an unknown father showing at the doorstep and hitting the "Great Hypno" on the nose with a good right hook.

She had never even dared fantasize about riches, about a good school and getting a huge book collection in her grasp and a girl like Melody wanting to be her friend. Maybe she wasn't born to live a life like that.

Vicky would understand why she didn't want to wear the silly white dress and curtsy to a stuck up old man. She hadn't been born with a golden spoon in her mouth either. While Jane had only gotten a glimpse at the poems the other day, it was easy to sense their meaning. They were wrapped about shattered dreams and broken hopes and a cold world. Mel would never understand those things.

The small booklet was lying heavy and warm on Jane's lap and she ran her fingertips over the paper before gently flicking it open.

It felt a little forbidden, but here in the rain the words were comforting. Against her better judgement she read. The rain drummed on when she flicked to the next page and the next before finally stopping cold. Jane slowly shook her head in disbelief. She hadn't had the slightest inkling.

"Right sleuths we are," she grumbled to herself.

She was still deep in thought when she finally arrived at her destination. The cottage was situated in a backstreet only a few yards from the tram stop, yet Jane was uncomfortably wet by the time she reached the white door. The paint was peeling off she couldn't help but notice as she knocked.

Nobody answered. Maybe Vicky was too ill, Jane wondered, now worried. She had seen the girl briefly, pale as the wall and shivering when she'd left.

In sudden resolve she took the two metres to the near window, glancing inside. Vicky was sitting at the kitchen table, playing with a bandage on her arm, far from her bed and completely lost in her own world. Jane banged against the glass in an effort to get her attention. Victoria appeared somewhat shocked as she spotted her soaked guest, but hurried to the door a mere moment later. She still looked like death warmed over, Jane couldn't help noticing when she pushed past her into the tiny house. By now she really longed to get out of the rain.

"Jane?" Vicky asked, her voice a little higher pitched than usually. "What are you doing here?"

"I thought I'd pay you a visit and enquire after your health," Jane smiled thinly, deciding against revealing why she'd truly come. Her host didn't look particularly thrilled at seeing her."I also found this."

Victoria looked for a long moment at the book while Jane expected her to get anxious as she had the last time.

"Thank you," she finally said calmly. Jane sneezed.

"Would you like a cup of tea?" Victoria asked. "You look drenched."

Jane nodded, despite the sinking feeling that she might have made the wrong decision. She wasn't certain if Vicky enjoyed her company. But then it would be rude to leave now – aside from very wet. So she shed her coat and hung it over the back of a chair while her hostess put the kettle on the stove.

"Are you feeling better?" she asked into the thick, suffocating silence.

"Pardon me?"

Vicky turned just when lightning dipped the small kitchen into blinding light. She was still pale, with deep shadows underneath her eyes, and the brief flash of brightness caused Jane's stomach to leap. The friendly girl looked like a ghost. A strange feeling of anxiety crept underneath her skin and she really wished she hadn't come now. But the rumble of the thunder deafening her a second later demolished any thoughts of hurrying out back into the storm. Instead she forced herself to smile.

"You went home sick this morning, didn't you?" she asked.

"Oh yes, of course," Victoria shrugged. "I was just a bit under the weather. The thunderstorm in my bones, my grandmother would have said."

With those words she sat down a tin of biscuit and Jane felt her fears dissolve. She was just being ridiculous. There was nothing here to worry about, she told herself as she stirred sugar into her tea. The rain drumming against the small window called her silly for ever thinking there was.

X

Jack still had a spring in his step when he pushed open the door leading into the station. Constable Jones looked up from his paperwork and watched his superior peel himself out of the drenched coat with a tiny grin glued to his face. The officer opened his mouth to say something, but his words drowned in a clap of thunder.

"What was that, Jones?" the Inspector yelled over the noisy outburst of nature.

"I said, there is a Mr. Wilt in your office, Sir."

Jack frowned.

"Did he say why?"

"He was going to speak only to you, Sir."

Jack nodded, throwing the coat over his arm and stepping through to his office where the man was sat. The old Pharmacist seemed to have been waiting for some time. He was completely dry.

The Inspector hung up his wet clothes before shutting the door.

"Mr. Wilt. What brings you here?"

The small man straightened up, fiddling with his spectacles.

"Inspector, someone has broken into my shop this morning."

Jack pulled a grim face while he sat down.

"Was anything stolen?"

"That's just the thing, Inspector. The thief took a strong tincture of Atropa Belladonna. It's used as a narcotic usually but if it's overdosed..."

The Inspector started, his mouth going dry.

"Poison?"

"Of course," the Pharmacist nodded. "But that's not all."

Jack tried to brace himself for what was to come.

"My syringes have been rifled through as well as the sleeping powders and-."

The Inspector was already on his feet. Just then the door flew open.

"Jack!"

The change in her voice was subtle but it was enough. The Inspector's heart sank. He knew that something had happened before he spotted two adolescents huddled behind Phryne in the doorway.

"Jane has disappeared from the dancing school."

He looked back at Mr. Wilt, a thousand thoughts spinning through his mind when he heard the younger Miss McAster add: "And Mr. Riley also left in the middle of our lesson. Madame was furious."

Jack stared at his wife, who shrugged helplessly.

"Did Jane ever say anything to you about Mr. Riley?" he asked Melody rather harshly.

The girl shook her head.

"She is quite taken with him," Harry chipped in from the back. Jack remembered vividly how defensive Jane had gotten over her attraction the other night. "She couldn't stop talking about him," the boy added with his jaw set. The Inspector measured him carefully. Jealousy. Interesting.

"That's not even true," Melody protested. "She wanted him to marry Charly!"

Phryne's and Jack's eyes met over the children's heads. The combination of Riley and Jane seemed more than strange, all things considered. But they couldn't ignore two people disappearing at the same time.

Jack turned, ramming his wet hat back onto his head but found his arm being caught in a firm grip. He looked up. His own fear was reflected in Phryne's eyes.

"Let's talk in private," she whispered. He nodded, following her into the small interview room without paying any more mind to the other three people in his office.

"What's your plan?" Phryne asked after he'd closed the door behind them.

"Head to Riley's house and speak to his staff. He can't have disappeared into thin air."

Phryne nodded.

"I will go talk to Miss MacAster, she should know all his secret hiding spots," she decided. That made plenty of sense and the Inspector was about to finally start the urgent search for their daughter when he heard her ask: "Do you really believe that he is with Jane?"

"You should be a better judge of that than me," her husband ground out after a split second. "I rather thought she was infatuated with young Mr. Taylor."

"They had a disagreement," Phryne explained what the adolescents had confessed to her when she'd arrived home. "The children have been searching for the killer as well. Apparently Jane wanted to quit."

A cold shiver ran down Jack's spine that he tried to ignore as best as he could. He had asked Jane to stay away from sleuthing in the past night, but the advice might have come too late. If Julian Riley was in fact Steeger's murderer and she had figured it out she could be in great danger. Phryne was thinking exactly the same, he could tell. Her faith in her dancing partner was fading quickly, but there was not triumph in this conclusion.

"We'll find her," Jack promised, "and if Riley touched a single hair on her head, I'll forget myself."

Phryne didn't get to answer due to a loud knock at the door. Rather annoyed both Detectives turned. Mr. Wilt looked suitably anxious when he pushed his head through the gap.

"Inspector, I am terribly sorry to interrupt, but considering what has transpired I believe you need to urgently know what else has been stolen."

X

The storm had turned into a lazy drizzle and the thin porcelain cup that didn't quite seem to fit the rustic kitchen, completely empty. It was time to leave.

Jane found resistance against that thought in every bone of her body. She felt lazy and all about compelled to lay her head onto the polished wood of the kitchen table and have a nap. Astounding, how everything in this place was polished and clean, she mused. By now she knew that Victoria lived here all alone. The other girl had been pretty chatty once she had gotten over her first surprise. Jane hadn't told her about her problems with Melody and Harry and stupid Lilah. They seemed not significant really. And as in unspoken agreement, Vicky hadn't asked, even though she'd have to know that tonight was the ball.

Jane's presentation was planned in less than two hours. Her stomach twisted at the thought of explaining her withdrawal to her parents. She couldn't help but wonder if they would be disappointed with her indecisiveness.

Jane was too smart a girl to not have sensed their disagreement with the whole idea of her coming-out. Jack's smile had been strained and Phryne's questions a little too concerned to just be showing interest. Considering this, their support had surprised her somewhat. To change her mind in the last minute felt like letting them down.

So, she admitted to herself, half of why she didn't want to get up was grounded in having to go home and explain to them that she would rather not be a young lady. She sighed to herself.

"I had better get going. Thank you for the tea."

Victoria smiled.

"It was nice of you to come."

Jane rose, realising that her bladder was complaining loudly.

"Would you mind if I went to..?" she made a vague gesture. Vicky understood.

"It's outside," she explained calmly as if she expected the other girl to be surprised by the possibility of finding a toilet in the back yard. It occurred to Jane that Vicky didn't know anything about her at all.

She found herself sneaking across the gloomy yard, wet grass brushing over her ankles. She hurried with her business and was back in the house a minute later. On her way through the small hall, she noticed a door that was slightly ajar and her eyes naturally turned to the opening as her steps went past it. She spotted the frilly edges of a duvet. Then the glimpse of a hand hanging still from the edge of a bed caused her to stop cold. Before she knew what she was doing Jane had grasped for the handle and ripped open the door. The man didn't move, but there was no question to who it was. Kneeling down beside him she felt for his pulse.

"Mr. Riley!"

"He's all right," a voice said. Jane turned to find Vicky stand behind her, smiling faintly. "He's only sleeping."

Jane still searched for any signs of a heartbeat, swallowing down the question on why Julian Riley would be sleeping in Victoria's bed of all places.

"But he isn't moving," she stated, close to panic.

Victoria's smile broadened.

"I mixed a sleeping powder into his tea."

Jane stared at her with her mouth hanging open.

"But... why?"

Vicky sank onto the bed beside the young man and gently stroked his cheek.

"Because she broke his heart; there's no pain like a broken heart."

The girl's eyes went far into the distance with a look that made Jane want to run from her house. She considered to get up, but in her current position she seemed trapped between Victoria and her night stand. The questions in her head kept nagging. But Vicky's hollow eyes taught her better than ask them.

Jane shivered. And then she made a mistake. One that was even bigger than coming here.

"You are sweet on him."

Vicky smiled thinly.

"You read my poems. But you are clever, Jane. You must have known before that."

Jane didn't answer. The truth was she hadn't had the slightest idea until this afternoon and she felt utterly stupid. But a part of her pointed out carefully that it might not be the wisest choice to admit that.

"You know, but you don't understand," Vicky continued.

The smile had vanished, she looked like she was about to burst into tears and Jane stretched out her fingers to stroke her hands. Her sober mind told her clearly that the girl was still insane.

"The jam. It was you, wasn't it?" she asked.

A miserable nod was the only answer she got for a long time.

"I didn't mean to," Vicky said, her voice breaking. "I thought... I heard Mr. Wilt talking with his friend about this plant and how it's making people go insane."

"So you gave it to Mr. Steeger?"

Vicky shook her head.

"He wasn't meant to eat it! She was supposed to! She wanted the jam from Miss Green. Why did she let him eat it?"

"I don't understand?" Jane heared herself ask, realising that with her prodding this situation spun further out of control. Yet, she couldn't stop herself, she needed to know why she was kneeling on the floorboards in front of this crazy girl. To her surprised Victoria turned to Julian, gently stroked his cheek.

"I found the letter she wrote."

"But you got it all wrong!" Jane exclaimed. "The letter was from Charly!"

"How was I supposed to know that?! She just signed 'C'! Who just signs a letter with an initial? And then she just throws his love away as if it means nothing..."

Jane listened to the girl's crazy rambling with her head spinning. An accident! Nothing but a silly accident born out of jealousy.

"You killed him!" she heard herself say. It wasn't the best of choices, Jane realised - but then she had made a number of bad decisions lately. Vicky had lost her breath and was staring at her out of huge eyes filled with tears.
"I did," she said tonelessly as if it occurred to her for the first time. But then the dark shadows of a number of sleepless nights convinced Jane that that wasn't the case at all. In fact Victoria's hysteria about Steeger's death suddenly appeared in a very different light.

"We need to talk to my parents. They'll know what to do."

Jane finally scrambled to her feet, rushing to the door but found it locked.

"We can't," Victoria said calmly.

She seemed to have found her composure again but that didn't scare Jane any less. She wrapped her hand around the door handle, jerking on it, but it wouldn't budge.

"Vicky, give me the key! Please," she begged.

Jane didn't receive any answer as the other girl had returned to trailing her fingers over Julian's arm. Jane used the distraction to feverishly search the room for an alternate escape route. The window didn't look like it would open. Maybe she could just bash it in or...?

She fished a hair pin from the back of her head, glancing at the two people on the bed. At least Julian Riley was obviously breathing now; his sleeping potion might be wearing off. But God knew what Vicky's plan was when he woke up and Jane didn't dare even imagine the possibilites. Taking a deep breath she turned, staring at the brass key hole. It couldn't be that hard, could it?

"Do you believe in Heaven, Jane?"

She spun, just in time before Vicky turned her head. If she hadn't been so scared, Jane would have felt sympathy with the girl sitting on the edge of her bed, looking lost in the world. But the adrenaline rushing through her veins drowned out any coherent thought.

"I... I don't know," she finally answered honestly, attempting to hide the pin behind her back, her hand bashing painfully against the wood. Thankfully the other girl didn't seem particularly observant.

"Well, I guess we will know very soon," Vicky smiled vaguely.

Jane almost choked on the question burning on her tongue. She watched as Victoria pulled a small vial from her pocket, then opened the drawer and ceremoniously laid something else onto her nightstand. Jane's breath hitched in her throat when she discovered the old service revolver glimmering in the grey afternoon light.