Chapter 48: The Thing With Feathers
They stood silently in front of the blackened ruin.
"I am sorry," Jack finally spoke in lack of anything better to say. Mrs. Tattler turned away from what was left of her life's work.
"Would you believe, Inspector, that the more I think about it, the less tragic it seems?" she asked as she took his offered arm. He tilted his head at her curiously. People curiously eyed the strange couple as they wandered along the street. Jack couldn't blame them.
Mrs. Harper had produced a suit that had belonged to her late husband and was quite a bit too long for the Inspector. His eyebrows were a little singed, the bruises scattered over his face by now had turned a nasty shade of yellow. All in all he didn't make for a trustworthy sight. Mrs. Tattler on the other hand was missing both of her eyebrows and her damaged hair had been shortened this morning to a very fashionable bob. The dress she wore, a present from one of her worried friends, made her look about twenty years her junior. Jack was actually rather surprised at her change.
"Don't tell Mia, but I have always somewhat envied my sister," Fefe Tattler continued. "The trial was horrid, of course, but once it was over, she was free. I, on the other hand, was expected to look after my parent's hotel and dutifully obliged. I have never left Woodend for more than a few days in all of my life."
Jack found that he was holding his breath at her confession.
"And Rosemary – she had dreams as a young girl." Her mother smiled. "I recall her reading books on Paris and Brussels and the Mediterranean Sea with palpable excitement. Mind you, we could never afford such travels and she settled for her fate."
"The hotel?" Jack asked without requiring an answer. Fefe nodded. "Maybe I should have sold years ago. But then change is frightening. It doesn't appear I have a choice now."
She seemed awfully happy at her misfortune, the Inspector noticed.
"Were you insured?" he finally dared asking what had been occupying his mind since the previous night. Fefe smiled.
"Luckily my husband, God rest his soul, was very adamant on that matter. So it won't be our ruin."
Her features darkened.
"Of course, Robert is a dire loss. I pray that the Lord may have mercy with his soul."
They walked on in silence.
"A new start might be just what your daughter needs," the Inspector said quietly. Mrs. Tattler flashed him another smile.
"I believe Grace said something similar last night - not that Rosemary believed her. The dear girl has been wonderful in the whole tragedy." A small laugh accompanied her words. "You know, she actually reminds me a little of Evie."
"That may not be a comparison she'd enjoy," Jack pointed out carefully. Fefe grinned.
"Probably not, Inspector. But then nobody is going to tell her."
X
Phryne crossed the yard, her summer dress fluttering in the breeze. It was a somewhat artless piece of clothing, but the light fabric felt awfully comfortable against her skin. Mrs. Harper had turned out to have rather solid taste once she shed her work boots.
The Lady-Detective spotted two women in the shade of a tree. Iris was talking quietly to a sobbing Rosemary and Phryne didn't feel any need to interrupt. There was a morning after every night and sometimes it was necessary for someone to remind you of that simple fact of life. She was glad that today it wasn't her on either side of this conversation.
Instead she turned her attention to the car which was carefully driven onto the yard. Pete O'Neill looked almost embarrassed holding the wheel. Behind the Hispano, Jalboo followed on Marina, leading a second steed.
"My, you are a dark horse, Mr. O'Neill," Phryne grinned as she greeted the farmer.
"It's purring like a kitten," Pete explained, blushing slightly at her implication. "A little trip down to the pharmacy did the trick."
"Thank you," Phryne exclaimed heartfelt. "Both of you!"
"No worries," the man mumbled, climbing from the comfortable leather seats, not without showing a glimpse of regret. He wandered off in search for the kitchen to wet his dry throat with some water, leaving the Detective behind in company of his farm hand.
"He is grateful for your help," Jalboo explained, slipping from Marina's back, "even though one might have to be a clairvoyant to tell."
"Oh, I am improving on my psychic skills," Phryne quipped smiling. The man smirked at this, making her wonder just how much his dream version had in common with the original. He didn't give her any time to think about it.
"They sat up all night. I dare say they have never talked this much in their lives."
"About time," Phryne threw in without bothering to hide her pride.
"I trust they will find a way," Jalboo smiled, "despite being too stubborn for their own good."
"They're not the only ones," Phryne mumbled under her breath while pondering the ridiculousness of expressing any gratitude for his appearance in Jack's vision.
"Your husband has recovered?" her conversation partner asked into her dark thoughts. Her head snapped up.
"He was an awfully long time in there and the falling beam couldn't have been gentle on his head," Jalboo added in way of explanation.
She nodded slowly, realising that it was perfectly normal that he would enquire after the Inspector's health.
"Thank you, he seems fine."
They chattered some time longer about last night's events before both men made their way back to the O'Neill's farm. It didn't occur to Mrs. Robinson until much later that Jack hadn't told anyone but her about the events inside the hotel.
X
"So, you are Aidan's brother?" Grace asked, pulling her legs to her chest. They were sitting on the unfinished floorboards, their backs against the cool wall. Luke hummed.
"Half-brother."
She glanced at his profile.
"You must be awfully angry with Evie?"
Luke shrugged.
"I am. And I am not." He finally looked at her. "She gave me into the hands of people who she knew would care for me."
Grace shook her head slowly at what she had just heard.
"I had never thought your parents capable of such a secret."
Luke cleared his throat.
"I'll confess I knew something was going on." He turned his head to look at Grace. "Father isn't a very convincing liar. And Jalboo was obviously fed up."
"Is that why you you are leaving?"
He chewed on his lip and stayed silent. She waited.
"It plays it's part." Luke fiddled with his hands in a gesture she knew better than she cared to admit. Grace was tempted to shake the truth out of him, but restrained herself.
"You were right. There is a woman." He didn't look at her, stared stubbornly out the window while she held her breath. "I love her, have loved her for a long time..."
He turned, finding a pair of translucent eyes and quickly looked away.
"But I need her to know that I expect nothing. Nothing at all, "he took a deep breath, "even if I stay."
A gust of wind blew through the open door, caused a bunch of nails to roll over the floorboards. Neither of the people said a word. Through the window they witnessed Angus's fruitless attempt to sneak up on a grass parrot.
"I'm sorry..." she finally said, her voice rough with emotion, "...it's too soon to even con-"
"Stop," Luke cut her off before adding a little more softly: "Please. I don't wish to talk about it and I don't need your sympathy."
She was visibly taken aback by his words and he realised that he had been harsher than intended. A habit formed during a long time of protecting himself.
"I am your friend, Grace and I will help you in every way that I can. I feel that is what I owe to both of you and it is all I am offering. My hopes aren't yours to worry about. Time will show if they have any grounds."
He could tell that she was close to tears, but to his utter relief she didn't cry.
"What if they prove to be unfounded?" she asked instead.
"Then I will deal with that," he promised, then smiled thinly. "I could always run away to the city."
She grinned and they stared out of the window in companionable silence for some time. After a minute or two a hand snuck over the floorboards, grasping for Luke's. He didn't struggle.
X
The quiet rustle of paperwork filled the station when Jack finally stepped through the door. The Sergeant made an attempt to rise but was waved off and sank obediently back onto his chair.
"Where are our guests?" Jack asked.
"Downstairs," Ferguson explained.
"All three of them?"
"Since they are friends, it seemed only fair."
Something about his grin told Jack that Geoff hadn't considered his prisoner's comfort in that equation.
"I believe I still have to interview your father?" he asked. The Sergeant shook his head.
"He denies everything, as expected." The disgust in his voice was obvious. "But I have enough witness statements to keep him locked up. He was very forthcoming on details on Mr. Torres's business though. It appears they can enjoy each other's company for a long time to come."
Jack grinned as he hung up his hat.
"You know, Sergeant, you might have a bright future ahead of you yet."
The young man cleared his throat in embarrassed pride.
"Thank you, Sir. Though I fear I lacked care in having my pistol stolen in the middle of the street."
Jack sighed and sat down.
"There are indeed good reasons to not carry a weapon unless you are expecting to need it, Sergeant."
"Duly noted, Sir."
Jack measured him quickly and came to the conclusion that Ferguson wasn't going to dwell on his mistake. Instead he eagerly continued the recount of his interviews.
"Packard knew to tell about Torres's break into the hotel. Apparently he feared that the connection with the railway would point you directly to his fencing. He was silly enough to brag towards his friends about his escape."
Jack resisted the urge to blush.
"Would you like me to write a detailed protocol?" Ferguson enquired with a cheeky grin. "You might want to press charges over the assault?"
The Inspector cleared his throat, picking up a folder from the desk.
"I don't think that will be necessary. In fact I believe a mention in the notes might be enough," he said as casually as possible.
"Very well, Sir."
Jack glanced briefly at the young officer's face as he settled down with some paperwork of his own. The Sergeant indeed was thoroughly underrated.
X
Miss Green sat at the window of her guest room, listened to the wind outside and wondered what she was to do with her life. It was the third time in mere months that she was forced to ask herself that very question. The truth of the matter was that, as it is the case for most, her age wasn't decreasing with time and the number of occupations she could entertain was growing smaller and less exciting. Her feet, which had once been capable of very elegant and quick adjustments, weren't at all equal any more to the stumbling blocks they met so regularly these days.
She assumed she could have offered Mrs. Harper her help on the station. Her hostess would accept, there was no question in her mind on that account, if more out of kindness and friendship than of actual demand. But Miss Green despised being a burden to anyone and it had been hinted that a stay at the farm was both Fefe's and Rosemary's design until they had decided how to go on - as long as Grace was still Mistress of the station at least.
Despite all her aversion to shaking up doonas, Mia was well aware that her sister and niece had been most gracious in taking her in after she had lost her position. While she felt a keen sense of obligation to stay and help them through their grieve, she also thought it too much to weigh down Grace Harper with another unasked for guest. There was grieving to be done on her side as well, even though she appeared to be taking her husband's murder with composure.
Aidan's loss was as fresh and raw still on Miss Green's mind as now was Robert's. She had respected and cared for both young men, despite their shortcomings, openly displayed by the one, disguising all his virtues below his bad temper like flowers under gravel, while hidden in the other underneath a layer of goodness and appearing at the worst hour. It was strange, she thought, that anyone could ever expect a human being to be just either, good or bad.
And she had to admit, if only to herself, that she was selfish enough to want to leave Woodend behind. It wasn't merely the pain she was running from after the recent tragedies, she also dearly missed Melbourne. The tranquillity of her hometown couldn't soothe her any more after the many years she had spent in the city and she hadn't ever formed any serious intent on returning for anything more than a friendly – and short – visit until she had been forced to...
A knock ripped her from her dark thoughts and with a sigh she rose to open in a mixture of duty and curiosity. The person who stood at her threshold wasn't anyone she had expected to see.
