/ / SATURDAY - Late Evening / /

At quarter to eight that evening Jack was trying his hardest not to trip and spill gravy all over his best (only) tablecloth as he rushed to finish setting the table. There was more to this than he'd ever thought about before. Sure cooking the meal was one thing, but getting showered and freshly dressed, then setting the table with crockery, cutlery, the meal, fresh flowers from his small yard, cut and placed in a vase, candles dug out from the back of a cupboard, dusted off and lit. Then blown out again for being too over the top and hidden away. And then brought back to the table. Just one candle, it wouldn't be the first time. It was all so much, and she could be here any moment.

At eight o'clock he remembered he hadn't oiled back his hair after his shower, and he ran to the bathroom to do so.

At ten past eight he sat, finally ready, at the table with a roast dinner he hoped could compete at least a little with Mr Butler's laid out before him.

His ears perked at the sound of every car driving down his street. The candle flickered and burned. He could hear the ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway, hear the chime for quarter past the hour.

His stomach rumbled.

Half past the hour.

The food was getting cold. Jack began to pace.

Perhaps she was making him wait, he thought. He had been out of line with her, he wouldn't put it past her to want to punish him in some small way.

Perhaps she had lost track of the time. It was known to happen and she had her brother home, a long lost niece to find. She always did get so caught up in a case...

Perhaps she was just running late.

Quarter to the hour.

Or perhaps she had forgotten.

By nine o'clock he had had enough. He moved to the telephone, took a breath, then rang for her house.

"Hello?" The call was answered by her brother, of course. Jack bit back a curse.

"Good evening, Mr Fisher. I was hoping to speak with Miss Fisher, is she there?"

There was a pause, then Orpheus said, "I think she's sleeping. She went up for a nap, asking not to be disturbed, I haven't seen her since."

"Could you wake her, or ask Miss Williams-"

"She doesn't want disturbing," Orpheus insisted, "try again tomorrow." And then the call cut out.

Jack hung up his end and scowled at the phone. He found himself hoping fervently that Phryne would find her niece soon and that man would bugger off back to Sydney.

He returned to the table and blew out the candle, then turned his back on the planned meal and moved to the sitting room. He found himself a book, then sat in his large and slightly worn armchair and began to read.

He reached chapter four before he realised he wasn't taking it in. Giving up Jack went to bed, tossing restlessly all night.

/ / /

Sunday morning was blessed with a crisp clear sky. Dot, as always, had woken early and spent the morning quietly dressing and preparing herself a light breakfast before gathering her hat, gloves, coat and umbrella and stepping outside to walk to church.

She enjoyed mornings, especially clear ones like today where there were no puddles to avoid or rain to cause danger to motorists on the roads.

She enjoyed church more, and listened intently to Father Grogan's every word. She sang clearly and knelt delicately, she exchanged peace with her fellow parishioners and was with God. Afterward Dot enjoyed tea and biscuits (baked by her just yesterday) and some polite chatter before slipping out and beginning the journey back home.

When she let herself back into the St Kilda house Dot took time to put away the unused umbrella and hang her coat and hat. She removed her gloves and moved into the kitchen where Mr Butler was making breakfast.

"Good morning Dorothy," he smiled, "how was church this morning?"

"Lovely," Dot returned the smile and sat down. "Did Miss Fisher say when she wanted to be woken up?"

"I'm afraid I had retired before her return," Mr Butler told her.

"Is Mr Fisher awake?"

"He's in the small parlour. And Jane is in her bedroom, reading."

Dot stood then and set about preparing coffee. Once made she set it up on a tray and excused herself from the kitchen to take it up to her mistress.

At Phryne's bedroom door Dot balanced the tray easily and knocked shortly before entering, "Good morning Miss, it's a beautifu-"

Dot stopped. In front of her was Miss Phryne's large bed, the sheets still perfectly made from when Dot had returned home from her picnic the previous afternoon. Miss Phryne had not come home.

Swallowing back her immediate worry Dot turned on the spot and moved instead to the small parlour. She brought the tray in and set it down on a table next to Orpheus. He was holding a piece of paper and staring at it in the same way Dot had often stared at her bible, as though it held the answer to everything.

"Coffee, Mr Fisher?"

He started, apparently surprised to find he was not alone.

"Uh, no thank you. That's Phryne's vice, I'd prefer tea."

Dot nodded, but didn't pick the tray up again. Instead she hovered, biting her lip and wondering how to voice her thoughts.

"Did," she began, "did Miss Phryne mention where she was going last night?"

"Hmm?" he looked up from his paper once more. "Uh, no, she didn't Miss Williams. Mr Butler just told me she wouldn't be joining me for dinner. Why?"

"It's just, she's not in her bed, sir. She hasn't been in it all night, it's still made."

Orpheus scowled. "Then I believe it's safe to presume she's with that policeman of hers."

Dot proudly did not blush at this remark. Instead she just nodded and picked up the coffee tray. Perhaps Mr Butler would like it. And he would surely know where Miss Phryne had gone as well.

"Did Miss Fisher not like the coffee this morning?" Mr Butler asked with a small frown as Dot re-entered the kitchen.

"No Mr Butler," Dot said, trying to keep the concern from her voice, "she wasn't there. I don't believe she's come home yet."

The older man looked up to meet Dot's gaze carefully, "That is odd."

"Mr Fisher suggested she went to see the Inspector last night," Dot chewed her lip. "Do you think there might be trouble, Mr Butler?"

"There might." Mr Butler thought carefully. There had been a telephone call late the previous night, and Mr Fisher had answered and hung up before Mr Butler had had the chance to answer himself.

"Why don't you call Constable Collins, Dorothy, and see if the Inspector is at the station. Perhaps Miss Fisher is working on a new investigation."

"Oh yes, perhaps she is." Dot smiled, trying not to think she was relieved by the possibility of a murder, and moved to the hall to use the telephone.

/ / /

Jack sat tiredly at his desk and took another mouthful of the horrid station tea. He'd not slept well - damn Phryne for doing this to him. Damn their argument in the first place and putting them in this position at all. He was once again reading statements and notes of the initial interviews and wondering if perhaps William Atkins had caught on to his business partner going behind his back to meet Mr Fisher when an insistent knocking at his door interrupted the silence.

"Yes?"

Collins opened the door and rushed urgently inside. "Sir!" he said. "It's Dottie- Miss Williams- on the telephone, sir. She's demanding- requesting to speak with you."

"Why is that, Collins?"

"She's worried something may have happened to Miss Fisher."

Jack frowned. "Is Miss Williams still on the phone, Collins?"

"Yes, sir."

Jack stood immediately and pushed passed his Constable to walk to the front desk. He took up the receiver to his ear and leant forward to speak into the mouthpiece.

"Miss Williams?"

"Inspector! Have you seen Miss Fisher this morning?"

Jack frowned, picking up the neck of the telephone to hold it closer to his mouth, "No. Why? What's happened?"

"I'm… I'm worried something may have happened. She drove Jane to a friend's house for afternoon tea yesterday and she hasn't been home since."

"And none of you found it suspicious she didn't return home last night?"

"She told Mr Butler she wouldn't be at dinner," Dot explained. "And we thought-"

"Yes?"

"We thought she was with you."

Jack resisted the temptation to curse. Instead he took a slow calming breath then said, "I will be there as soon as I can," and hung up.

Moving quickly back to his office for his coat and hat, Jack rushed for the doors.

"Come on, Collins."

Together they climbed into the black police motorcar and made the journey from City South into St Kilda. Upon their arrival Dot opened the front door, waiting anxiously as they alighted and walked up the front path.

"Miss Williams," Jack greeted her. "Shall we sit in the dining room?"

She nodded and lead them through. Jane sat in the parlour and peered at them from over the top of the book she'd been pretending to read for the last hour. Mr Butler appeared with tea. Orpheus made himself known in the corner with a cough.

"Who was last to see her?" Jack asked as Hugh pulled out his notebook.

"Jane," replied Dot. "Hugh and I stepped out yesterday afternoon, but Miss Phryne took Jane to her schoolfriend Matilda's house in Kew."

"What time was that?"

"I believe they left at a quarter to four, Inspector," Mr Butler said kindly. "They went in the motorcar."

Jane set aside her book, giving up on pretending not to hear them, and walked from the parlour to the dining room.

"We arrived at Matilda's house at four o'clock, and she came with me to the door and spoke to Mrs Smythe," she told Jack confidently, "She told me to call Bert and Cec when I was ready to come home and that's what I did."

"Jane got home just after I did," Dot added. "Half past five. Miss Phryne wasn't here."

"No, she did not return while Miss Jane and Dorothy were out. And she had told me not to expect her for dinner so I did not think anything strange of her absence." Mr Butler added.

Jack nodded and Hugh wrote it all down. "And you, Mr Fisher?" He asked suddenly, turning to the older man. "When did you last see her?"

"At lunch," he muttered. "Afterward I went to read and Phryne went upstairs. Mr Butler told me she didn't want to be disturbed so I didn't try and 'suade her out. I did not realise she had driven Jane to her friend, I assumed Mr Butler had driven."

"And last night?"

"What are you getting at?" Orpheus snapped, the rough Collingwood edge of his childhood returning to his demeanor.

"Phryne was due to meet me at eight o'clock. I rang for her when she didn't arrive and you told me she was asleep. Now she's missing and because of you we've wasted hours that could have been spent looking for her."

"If you hadn't been such a bastard, she wouldn't have needed to sneak off to see you, would she? You would have been here, warming her bed."

"Mr Fisher, that is inappropriate!"

"How do you know she's even missing, copper? She has her car, she could have gone off anywhere. Maybe she took off, she always was flighty. Maybe she left you."

"With all due respect, Mr Fisher, you haven't known her since she was twelve," Jack cut in. "She would not leave Jane and Dot to worry." He paused to glower at the older man, then took a breath and continued. "What about her work? Was she working on any cases that might have put her in danger?"

"No. Just the case with Mr Fisher," Dot said.

"Trying to find... Joan Baker, was it?"

Orpheus frowned, "How do you know that?"

"Never mind that," Jack told the man, "did she find her? The Baker's of all people would have a motive to push Phryne off the right track, if their child really is your-"

"Shut up man!" Orpheus exclaimed. He cast his eyes to Jane who was staring between the two men with some shock. Dot bit her lip and moved to stand behind the girl, placing a hand on her shoulder.

Mr Fisher sighed, "I'm sorry, Miss Williams, Jane. For my language. And my words earlier," he turned back to Jack. "Perhaps, Inspector, we should talk privately?"

Jack considered this, and looked at Jane. They mustn't have told her Orpheus was looking for his daughter. That was reasonable enough he thought, and so he nodded and excused himself from the rest of the party in the dining room, following Mr Fisher upstairs to the small parlour.

Once they reached the room, Orpheus crossed over to a table and collected a small piece of paper. He turned.

"Phryne and I found a birth certificate closely matching the one made for my daughter," he said. "It listed the parents as Joan and William Baker, and we came up with this address and telephone number. I wanted to see them yesterday but Phryne insisted we not disrupt their weekend. She was going to telephone and ask to meet them tomorrow."

"You believe their daughter to be yours, Mr Fisher?"

"Yes."

"And you have no proof of this, beyond the coincidence of matching birthdates?"

"No."

"Do you think it's possible Phryne lied, to keep you away while she went to see them herself? Perhaps she thought you may cause a scene, or make inappropriate demands," Orpheus bristled but Jack continued plainly. "It would not be the first time she's gone around someone's back to find the truth."

"How does this help us find her?"

"If she went to see them, Mr Fisher, they may not have taken kindly to her claims."

"Do you think they hurt her?"

Jack swallowed. He was trying to go by the assumption Phryne was missing, not somehow injured or otherwise harmed. "I don't know, Mr Fisher, but we need to find out."

Wordlessly Orpheus stuck out his hand. Jack accepted the paper, quickly reading the address. "Richmond," he murmured. "Thank you, Mr Fisher."

He nodded stiffly and Jack stepped back toward the door, pausing slightly before he left to say, "I will do everything in my power to find her. She might find trouble like ants to honey, but she can hold her own. I cannot tell you how many times I've come to her rescue only to find she had rescued herself. She will be all right."

"Yes," Orpheus murmured, "I imagine so. She was always a fighter. Thank you."

Jack nodded awkwardly and left.