/ / MONDAY - Mid Morning / /
Across Melbourne a different Jack stood in a large office come crime scene. The body had been discovered and reported in the early hours of that morning, before the start of his shift. Until he had arrived Constable Collins had been in control of the scene.
Papers littered the floor, tossed aside in a search of the room. A safe sat open in the corner, completely empty. The body had since been removed from the room, its position marked out with chalk, but the blood remained and Jack crouched down to look at it carefully.
"What do we know about the victim, Collins?" he asked his Constable.
"Name of Francis Hammond, sir," Hugh reported. "He and Mr Atkins own the business together. Mr Hammond was married, he lived in Richmond with his wife Mary and their children."
The blood had dried Jack noticed, and he stood. "When was he last seen?"
"We don't know sir. There has been no missing person report filed. Mr Atkins said it would be unusual for Mr Hammond to be here on the weekend, but he was found when Atkins arrived for work this morning."
"Judging from the smell, he must have been here a while," Jack murmured. "We'll need to speak to his family."
Hugh nodded, scribbling into his notepad.
Jack moved around the room. "I want these documents collected, including anything left in the desks and the filing cabinets. Verify with Mr Atkins that everything is present. Have we found the weapon?"
"Uh, yes sir. Mr Hammonds' own revolver was found in the waste bin."
"He had his own revolver?"
Hugh nodded, "From the war according to Mr Atkins. Mr Hammond kept it here because his wife didn't want it near their children."
They continued to move around the room, Jack occasionally asking questions, or making sure Hugh took note of a particular clue. Eventually there was nothing more to be done at the crime scene.
"You've interviewed Atkins already, Collins?" Jack asked.
"Yes sir."
"Very good. Secure the crime scene and we'll go to Mrs Hammond's house to make the notification and ask some questions."
"Yes sir."
Eager to impress his boss Hugh did as instructed, and soon they were driving through the streets of Richmond until they pulled up at the house of their victim. Jack stepped out. Notifying the family was perhaps the worst aspect of this job, but he'd rather do it himself. He needed to get some critical information from these people if he wanted to be able to solve this murder.
Together the two men walked to the front door and Jack knocked. After a moment of waiting it was opened by a woman who despite the swell of her expectant stomach held a heavy toddler in her arms.
"Mrs Hammond?" Jack asked.
"Yes?"
He pulled out his identification, "I'm Detective Inspector Jack Robinson and this is Constable Collins. I'm afraid we have some bad news. May we come inside?"
/ /
The oldest of the Hammond children was perhaps twelve years old and she sat by her weeping mother's side, holding the woman as she shook with her tears. The other children were out in the garden, Jack could hear them laughing and singing as they swung from trees and climbed the branches.
A day maid stepped into the room with a tray of tea for the lady and two policeman. She assisted Mrs Hammond in taking a drink of a no doubt vile concoction for her nerves, then sugared the teas to request and held out her hand to the young girl.
"Come along, Edie, you should be looking after the others."
"I want to stay with Mother," the girl complained, casting a worried glance to the pale woman whose tears had eased but whose shaking had not, evident by the rattling of her teacup in its saucer as she tried to drink.
"The policemen need to speak with her. Come along."
Jack nodded. "Please," he told the young girl. "We just need a moment to talk to your mother alone. We'll call you back in a few minutes."
Unable to ignore the instructions of a policeman Edie Hammond stood and reluctantly let the maid lead her away from the room. They heard the back door creak open, then slam shut and Mrs Hammond jumped, her tea sloshing over the edge of the teacup and onto her knee. She looked down at the staining fabric, not feeling the sting of hot water against her skin, then slowly lowered her cup back to the table.
"Are you certain," she asked, her voice shaking, "that it was my Francis you found?"
"Yes," Jack murmured. "Identity was confirmed by Mr Atkins."
A short wail escaped her lips, and Jack continued on.
"He was shot, perhaps during a robbery. At this stage it's hard to know for sure. But a post mortem will be carried out, and a full investigation is underway. Would you mind answering some questions for us?"
Mrs Hammond shook her head, reaching for her handkerchief and blowing her nose.
"When was the last time you saw your husband?"
"Yesterday," Mrs Hammond whispered. "We all went to church in the morning."
"And after that?"
"I take the children to see my parents after church. We spend the afternoon and stay for dinner. But Francis didn't come with us yesterday. He said he had important papers to look over, a contract for a new business deal. He's been looking forward to it for months."
Jack nodded and looked to Collins who wrote his notes quickly, "And when did you return home, Mrs Hammond?"
"Just this morning. I couldn't bear to let poor Father drive me home in the rain last night. His eyesight isn't what it was."
"And the house was empty when you arrived?"
"Yes," she whispered. "I thought … I thought Francis had left early for work."
They paused while she collected herself again, and drank the rest of her tea. Jack too picked up his cup, sipping politely before setting it back down and returning to his questions.
"Do you know of anyone who would want to hurt your husband? Any old foes or bad business deals?"
"Francis only spoke to me about business when things were going well," Mrs Hammond told him, looking down into her empty tea cup. "But the deal he was about to make, he said it would change everything. Our entire future. We'd never have to worry about anything again… But no, no I can't think of anyone. Everybody loved Francis."
"Thank you, Mrs Hammond. That will be all for now," Jack turned to his Constable. "Collins, please go and collect the children from outside."
Hugh nodded and put away his notebook, exiting the room to find all four children playing outside. Only the oldest knew something was wrong, but she had only seen her mother's reaction, not heard the news itself. Heavy hearted, Hugh led the children back to the sitting room. Edie immediately sat by her mother's side and the young toddler they'd seen clinging to Mrs Hammond when she'd answered the door climbed up to sit in his sister's lap.
The remaining two, aged perhaps nine and six, stood fidgeting and stared at the strange man in their sitting room with open confusion.
"Thank you Constable," Jack said, giving Hugh a look, "that will be all."
Surprisingly, Hugh caught on, and he left the room in search of the maid, his initiative telling him he should probably question her while the family were otherwise occupied.
In the sitting room Jack asked the children some simple and mostly innocent questions about their father and his recent behaviour. They didn't have anything much to add to what Jack already knew, but he needed to give Collins time. Eventually though, Edie decided to break the eggshells Jack had been walking over.
"Has Daddy been arrested?" she asked, "Is he going to gaol?"
Jack sighed. This was not going to be easy. But he couldn't leave poor Mrs Hammond to take the task on by herself. Expressing his regret he told the four children of their father's sudden passing.
By the time Jack and Constable Collins were able to leave the mourning house, it was nearing noon, and they returned to the station for lunch before going to the morgue.
/ /
The Hon Jack Fisher, as he preferred to be known, looked very like Miss Phryne, Dot thought. He was clearly much older than his sister, his lined face thin with a pointed chin. But he shared her high cheekbones and he spoke with a posh, but definitely Australian, accent as he told them of his business in Sydney making furniture and his family, of whom he proudly showed them photographs.
His wife, Mabel Fisher, was beautiful with plump rosy cheeks and fair hair curled in neat marcel waves. The boy next to her in the photo shared her plump cheeks, and his short hair was dark like his father's.
"What a beautiful boy," Dot smiled fondly, sitting forward in her armchair to look at the photo in Phryne's hand.
"He is seven now. His name is August," Orpheus nodded. "Mabel dotes on him, but he's a clever lad. He'll need to be."
Phryne hummed her agreement and passed the photograph back. "He seems very sweet," she said, not particularly meaning it. She'd never been fond of young children, even when she was one.
"What about you, Phryne. You've not married?"
"No," she remarked, "not for me, I'm afraid. But I have a daughter. She's fifteen, I adopted her officially last year."
Orpheus was surprised by this. "How wonderful. I would be delighted to meet her."
"Perhaps," Phryne shrugged without commitment.
He smiled, "Do you have a photograph?" he asked kindly, keen to see what sort of a child had captured his sister's heart in such a way that she had sought to adopt them.
Phryne nodded and turned to her companion, "Dot, dear, would you mind terribly going upstairs. There's a lovely frame from the Flower Parade, you know the one."
Dot nodded, "Yes Miss," and she set her teacup down in its saucer before standing and leaving the room.
"What is her name, this daughter of yours?" Orpheus smiled.
"Jane," Phryne told him, noticing how his posture tensed slightly at the name. "A mere coincidence, I assure you. She was not named by me."
Orpheus gave a short nod of understanding, his stance slowly relaxing once more. A pause flooded between them and Orpheus lowered his gaze to his knee, brushing off some imagined dirt to give his hand something to do. Swallowing he looked up cautiously and proceeded into a topic he knew they'd have to eventually face.
"I heard… I heard Foyle confessed," He stated awkwardly. "I read about his hanging."
Phryne swallowed back the sudden lump in her throat. "Yes."
Orpheus nodded. "Good," he said. "I'm … I'm glad you can have that closure."
His sister looked down at her fingers with a faint nod and silence flittered through the room once more.
"Where were you, Orpheus?" Phryne asked suddenly, looking up from her lap to stare across curiously at the man opposite. "When Janey first vanished and you came from Sydney I thought to myself, at least I would have my brother. I had missed you so much, and father never let us talk about you. You came from Sydney on the train, and I remember weeping in your arms, I remember you holding me through my nightmares and telling me Janey would come home again. But then you packed straight back up and left. Janey never returned, the police stopped looking, and I was alone. Stuck with father, drunk and abusive as he always was. And mother; she blamed me, couldn't stand to look at me. And Aunt Prudence; who refused to use her influence to find our answers."
She looked away, her hands twisting in her lap and Orpheus watched, unsure how to respond to this shift in conversation.
"I couldn't have done anything for Janey by staying in Melbourne then, Phryne."
At this Phryne raised her head once more, her eyes suddenly sharp and glaring through the unshed tears that filled them.
"You could have done something for me. I needed my brother, Orpheus."
He stared at her, the weight of her words hitting him in the chest. She had been just a child when he'd last seen her, and younger than his boy was now when he first left. Perhaps only five. He sighed, staring at her. Had it really been so long? Sixteen years since Janey's disappearance, and many more away from them both before that.
So much had changed and Orpheus was beginning to realise that even with the sporadic correspondence he had with their mother, he did not know Phryne. And having seen him just once in over twenty years, she did not know him either.
The question was, would she care to know him now?
"Here you are, Miss," Dot said, appearing suddenly in the doorway and stepping inside with a frame in her hands. "Here's the photo you wanted."
Phryne and Orpheus both started at the younger woman's sudden re-entrance, but took the change of topic gratefully. Dot handed Phryne the frame with a smile and sat back in her seat, as Phryne leant forward and held the object out to her brother.
He took it, and looked down to it curiously.
The photo was of Jane and Phryne on the day of the Flower Parade, Jane dressed beautifully as a flower maiden and Phryne smiling beside her.
"You are both incredibly beautiful," Orpheus murmured.
"Thank you," she replied softly, staring sightlessly into the corner of the room, her voice barely louder than a whisper. "I think it may be best if Dot showed you out, Orpheus."
The man nodded, disappointed. But politely he stood, resigned to following his sister's request.
"I'm in town for the rest of the week, staying at the Scott's Hotel," he told her. And he placed the frame down on the small table with their tea tray before reaching into his pocket and producing a card. "Please."
Wordlessly Phryne accepted the card, and she closed her eyes as the older man bent down to kiss her cheek.
"I am sorry, Phryne," Orpheus said as he straightened up. "That I was not here for you. But I am here now. I hope you will let me... make it up to you."
Her eyes flickered up to him, oddly heavy in her gaze as she whispered, "Perhaps it is too late."
He left then, Dot moving ahead to open the front door and Phryne sighed in relief, curling her legs up into her armchair and waiting for Dot to return. Hopefully the girl would have the foresight to bring more coffee with her, or perhaps one of Mr Butler's exquisite cocktails...
Family, Phryne believed, was far too complicated.