/ / Monday - Midday / /
It was a strange day in Wardlow. Jane had stayed home from school at Orpheus' insistence. He sat with her now in the parlour with a game of draughts set out before them, but neither really had the proper frame of mind to concentrate on the game. They moved pieces absently, taking no notice of who was winning as they tried to ignore the beads of Dot's rosary clicking together as she said another prayer.
The phone rang, and the three of them looked up sharply, watching with bated breath as Mr Butler moved to the entrance way and answered.
He listened for a moment, then lowered the receiver to one side and walked to the doorway.
"The Inspector is on the phone for you, sir."
Orpheus swallowed. "Thank you, Mr Butler."
He stood and moved out to take the call. Jane stared after him and Dot quickly moved across the room to sit with the girl, taking her hand.
"Orpheus Fisher speaking," Orpheus said as he took the phone. "There is? ... But the note, this morning- What do you mean she didn't write it?! It was in her handwriting! ... How can she- … So what have you done? … Right, yes. Very well then. Thank you for letting me know. … I will. … Goodday Inspector," he hung up.
"Did they find her?"
Orpheus looked over at Jane, her hand clutched tightly in Dot's, and shook his head. "They arrested Celia for the murder. But there's no sign of Phryne. The Inspector doesn't believe she was at the house at all and Celia is denying she knows anything about it."
"But then," Jane asked, "who has her? Who sent the note?"
Orpheus sighed. "How does it feel," he murmured aloud.
"What?" asked Jane.
"The ransom note, that is what it said. How does it feel."
"But then it wasn't a ransom," Jane said, and her brow furrowed, "it was trying to taunt us. Which would mean...this is about one of us, not Miss Phryne at all. They don't want money, they took her to-"
"Make me suffer by getting to my sister," Orpheus spoke over her.
He frowned a moment, considering this and thinking hard. Who in Melbourne, if not Celia, would want to hurt him like this after all this time?
"Dorothy?"
"Yes, Mister Jack?"
"Could you bring me the telephone directory, please?"
/ / /
A door slammed shut and heavy footsteps marched somewhere in the house. Phryne, who had been trying in vain to undo the knot around her ankles, looked up. She had heard the car pulling back into the drive, but thought it must have belonged to a neighbour. Her captor had left barely half an hour ago and she'd been hoping to have undone his bindings -again- by the time he came back.
The key on the lock gave her another surprise, and the door to the room swung open to reveal her captor, red faced and furious.
"This is all your fucking fault!" he yelled at her. "If you had kept your fucking nose outta it, this never would have happened."
"What are you talking about?"
"Your fucking brother! It should be him rottin' in gaol, should be him they send to the noose, and you fucking got him off didn't ya? What you do, huh? No way they coulda proved it weren't him, no fucking way. You musta bribed the cops to set him loose."
"Orpheus hasn't done anything."
"Orpheus has been fucking causin' trouble for my Celia, already ruined her life once, weren't that enough for him? Nah, he's back and he's askin' questions and making it hard for 'er and I just went see how she's managing and her neighbour tells me the fucking cops come and fucking arrested her for killing that bloke. It should be him they have! She don't deserve this! Your fucking brother killed him, not my Celia. And it's your fucking fault they let 'im walk! You just flashed your purse at the jacks, or," he leered suddenly, and the anger slipped away to be replaced by something more lurid.
"Maybe it was more than that. Maybe you was flashing somethin' else for 'em, hmm?" he swooped in close, and Phryne saw a hunger in his eye she did not want to appease.
"Yeah, that's it, ain't it? It's like they always say; you can take'a tart from Collingwood..." Stanley smirked, reaching down and taking her breast in a firm hand. "He ruined my Celia's life… Maybe I can think up a way to ruin yours."
Phryne glared at her captor. "You'd do best to remove that hand," she warned him icily, "before I remove it for you."
He laughed and squeezed, pinching her painfully.
"Orpheus will be looking for me you know, him and the police."
"They haven't found ya yet, what makes you think they'll find ya now?"
Phryne bit back her worry, "They won't stop until they find me."
Stanley grinned. "They'll be too late," and he began to undo his belt.
/ / /
Orpheus Fisher poured over the directory, cursing to himself silently as he traced a finger down the page.
"Mr Butler, please get the car ready for me; I'm going to need it imminently! Miss Williams!"
"Yes?" Dot stood next to him, and Orpheus jumped, having not noticed her hovering over his shoulder. He made no effort to apologise for his loud yell, but lowered his voice when he spoke next.
"Call the Detective Inspector," he said, "tell him I know who has Phryne, and I have the address here- somewhere- just call. Now."
Dot rushed to the phone without question and Orpheus turned the page and ran up the stairs to Phryne's boudoir. He found her gun by her bedside and raced down the stairs to return to the directory.
"I need to speak to the Inspector, Hugh. It's about Miss Phryne," Dot was saying into the telephone.
Orpheus blocked her out, scanning the page of Thomas' and Thompsons.
There!
There it was, that was him. He pushed to book into Dot's arms and pointed to a name halfway down the page, then grabbed his hat and tucked the little gun into his pocket.
"Wait!" Dot called after him, "I'm telling the Inspector; where are you going?!"
But Orpheus didn't answer. Mr Butler had the Hispano's engine running and waiting, and with the same grace as his sister, Orpheus pulled out onto the street and sped off through Melbourne.
"What's the name, Miss Williams?" Jack asked urgently from the other end of the telephone line, pulling Dot back to her task.
"Oh! It's Thomas, Inspector Robinson. Stanley Thomas."
/ / /
Phryne as a general rule in life, always strived to be level headed and not panic. Especially now she so often found herself in circumstances where rushing to false conclusions or making emotionally driven decisions could end with someone -and not necessarily who she'd hope- getting shot.
This rule however, had been thrown out the small boarded up window some moments ago.
Her bound wrists had been brought over her head and attached to the iron bedframe with her captor's belt, and it was taking all her effort to fight against his wandering hands pulling at her skirt and tearing her stockings. He wasn't deterred in the slightest by her efforts, simply laughing as if he was enjoying her struggle.
He pulled a pocket knife from his trousers and leered at her, "You stop your squirming girly, or I might just cut these pretty little ankles o'yours."
Phryne stared at the knife, watching as her captor moved down the bed to her bound feet. The horrible truth of what he was planning to do sank into her. Stanley Thomas slipped the blade beneath the tightly wound rope that had already rubbed her 'pretty ankles' raw. The rope gave with a jolt and Phryne hissed, watching him cast the knife aside. He began to advance once more, crawling up the length of the bed, and thinking quickly Phryne aimed a sharp knee to the tent forming at the front of his trousers.
"Christ!" he swore, doubling over and falling on top of her in his pain. "You'll bloody pay for that!"
He sat up grabbing her legs roughly and holding them in a firm grip, even as she kicked and struggled beneath him. "Bloody meddling bitch," he muttered, "Keep still!"
Phryne didn't listen, pulling and twisting her legs in his grasp until she got one foot free, and quickly kicked him in the face.
"Let me go," she swore at him, kicking with both her legs free now as he clutched at his bleeding nose.
Stanley wiped the blood on his sleeve before taking her legs again and throwing them over each of his shoulders, pushing forward and removing all her leverage. He pressed into her, his body disgustingly close, his horrid smelling breath hot on her face. Phryne felt sick to feel him so intimately against her, but still she tried to thrash herself free from beneath him. But her movements were limited and the back of her heels pelted repeatedly into his back, unable to fight him off.
"Get off me!" she demanded, and Phryne did the only thing she still could, and spat in his face.
Stanley glowered.
"You're too much fucking work," he told her, and without warning his hands moved to wrap around her neck.
Phryne's eyes bulged as her lungs fought for air. His grip was so strong, and though she had faced death before, never had it seemed so imminent.
She stared into Stanley's eyes, into the hatred and anger burning there, and tears began to blur her vision -or was that the lack of air?- either way Phryne realised that this was the last thing she would see. With her heart thumping and breaking in her chest she closed her eyes instead, and thought of Jack. Sweet, darling Jack with his kind face and his soft eyes. His bright smile that warmed her inside and out, and Jane. Jane once again without a parent. But Dot would see her looked after, and Orpheus had taken so well to her.
Oh Orpheus. And Janey, would she see her again?
Her lungs screamed but her mind wavered, starved of the fuel it needed. Thinking helplessly of her family, Phryne began to fade.
/ / /
A gunshot tore through the silence.
Stanley Thomas jumped, his grip loosening as he turned toward the source of the noise. Orpheus Fisher stood in the doorway, pearl handled pistol pointed straight ahead.
"Get off her," he ground out. Next to him his free hand had curled into such a tight fist he could feel the bite of his nails breaking the flesh of his palm.
"Why should I?" Stanley argued, "You've as good as killed my sister, why should I spare yours?"
Without a moment's pause Orpheus cocked the gun once more, "Don't test me!" he hissed dangerously at the other man.
Slowly Stanley let go of Phryne, and he held his hands over his head as he climbed from her still form and back to the floor. Orpheus followed him with the gun, then once Stanley was far enough away from the bed, he cautioned a glance toward his sister.
Seeing his chance, Stanley lunged. Another shot rang out.
Orpheus lowered the weapon, watching Stanley as he stumbled back into the wall, and slumped to the floor, blood staining his shirt as it poured from the wound to his abdomen.
"Orpheus?"
Both men turned to the bed, Stanley swearing at the pain the sudden movement had caused. Phryne lay still and weak, her voice horribly hoarse, but awake.
"Phryne," Orpheus strode to her, sitting on the mattress and taking in the sight of his sister, still tied helplessly to the bed, her skirt hitched up well beyond decency and her stockings torn from her garters.
"You're here?"
"I'm here."
With Stanley incapacitated against the wall, Orpheus tucked Phryne's little golden gun away and picked up the discarded knife Stanley had used on the ropes earlier. As carefully as he could Orpheus leant across his sister and slipped the knife beneath the tight knot binding her wrists and cut her free.
She brought her arms down to her sides stiffly, pushing herself to sit up and adjusted her clothes, not looking at Orpheus as she did so.
"Can you walk?"
Mutely, Phryne nodded. She slid her feet over the edge of the mattress and Orpheus stood close by as she stood. The ruined stockings slipped down her legs, and after a moment of staring down at them, Phryne let them slip free completely and fall to the floor. They were torn in more than one place, even Dot would struggle to repair them.
Stepping from the silk Phryne reached out, taking Orpheus by the hand for balance. He waited patiently and squeezed her hand in comfort. She was shaking Phryne realised suddenly, really shaking.
"I-"
"Shh, it's all right. You don't need to say anything," Orpheus murmured, hearing how raw her voice was. "Let's get you out of here."
He wrapped an arm around her waist and led her silently from the hell of that room, pausing only so he could close the door and turn the key that had, in Stanley's earlier haste, been left in the lock.
"You're safe now, Phryne. I've got you. And Dorothy's called for your Inspector. You're going to be all right," Orpheus assured her, and he kept them walking until he reached her Hispano parked haphazardly at the side of the street.
Tears once again falling from her eyes, Phryne just nodded. They climbed into the back of the car, and Orpheus pulled the thick blanket around her small frame, gathering her up in it's warmth and pulling her into his lap. He kissed the top of her head, feeling the adrenaline that had kept him his cool beginning to fade away. "You're safe now."
Phryne nodded, and whispered raspily into his neck, "I know Orphie."
And, curled into her big brother's embrace, Phryne closed her eyes and felt the horrors of the world just melt away.
Orpheus had always given the best of hugs.