Thank you again, guys, for reading along and for the many lovely reviews you've left me. I appreciate every single one of them. Apparently the formatting got scrambled on posting tonight. I hope re-posting has fixed the issue.

Being in any bedroom with the Honourable Phryne Fisher was an adventure, the Inspector had found a long time ago. Being in the bedroom of her current dalliance made things just that much more awkward.

Alessandro Bricelli's room was tidy and totally non-descript. A few pictures stood above a small fireplace, one of them showing him in a one-armed embrace with the man currently cooling in the morgue. It was a photograph taken in their youth, in happier days. Phryne looked at it for several moments before she managed to tear herself away. Jack found himself dimly wondering if she was at all attached to this Alessandro. Would it hurt her if they should find that he had also made his way to the Yarra? He could never quite fathom how she truly felt about the men she bedded. Was she actually interested in their minds, their souls? Or were they just a body to cling to in a cold night? He could understand the desire. How often had he lain awake, wishing desperately there were someone to hold him. Soon there would be, it occurred to him. It was still an unfamiliar notion.

He realised that Miss Fisher had moved on to another photograph, which she had taken off the mantle and stepped closer to see what she was looking at. What he saw stunned him somewhat.

"He's married," Phryne said in a tone he couldn't read. "I wonder what happened to his wife."

Jack stared for a long moment at the picture showing a younger Alessandro standing beaming beside a pretty girl, her dark her covered by a huge veil.

"Whatever it is, it doesn't appear she lives here," he said levelly, thinking of Rosie. Just what he needed, another woman to haunt his dreams. He wondered if the shame about his divorce would dissolve once he was married again. Or would the failure of his first marriage forever stay with him? At least on his paperwork his vows with Concetta would make Rosie disappear. It seemed not entirely fair that her existence should be wiped from his life – he couldn't wait.

Phryne had moved on from the discovery of her lover's marital status. If she was bothered by it, she didn't show it. She was currently going through the contents of a large wardrobe with very little hesitance.

"Not many clothes here," she stated.

"You think he may have run?" the Inspector asked, pulling open the drawer of a small desk.

"I certainly wouldn't blame him, after the Camorra murdered his brother," Phryne pointed out levelly.

"Which leaves the questions how he knew," the Inspector argued. He did not feel particularly kindly disposed towards Alessandro Bricelli for reasons he didn't care to explain.

"A very good question," Phryne said from the direction of the bed. The Inspector hummed his agreement and closed the drawer in which he'd found nothing but stationary. His eyes caught on something. The small ball of paper barely covered half his gloved palm as he fished it from the bin. "What do we have here," Phryne asked, already behind him. Jack gently unfolded and smoothed the note before holding it at an angle that they both could read.

Your brother will pay for his mistake. You are next. Strano

"Well, that explains at least why Mr Bricelli has bolted," Jack said dryly. "And it also seems to cement your theory on Papa Antonio being behind the attack and the murder."

Miss Fisher frowned.

"It all seems a little neat."

The Inspector turned, becoming aware of just how close she was.

"If you were to write a threatening letter, Jack, would you sign your name?"

She looked up at him, her blue eyes sparkling with excitement. Jack gulped.

"I can't say I have ever considered that possibility, Miss Fisher," he rasped. Her eyes seemed to have doubled in size in the last minute, threatening to swallow him. He cleared his dry throat and took a small step backwards.

"You've made your point, Miss Fisher," he said, bagging the letter. "It might be time to finally have a word with Strano."

She smiled. He did, too. He hadn't told her his entire plan yet.

X

The Inspector swept into the station in a rather joyful mood. He didn't win arguments with Phryne Fisher often and he had the slight suspicion that the relative ease with which he had sent her home to get changed, had something to with the crinkles in her dress and her smeared lipstick, but it was a victory nevertheless. The truth was that he didn't want her anywhere near Antonio Strano. He'd seen the hatred sparkle in the man's eyes last night. He hadn't forgiven either of them for making a fool of him in Nonna Louisa's murder investigation. But Miss Fisher seemed to offend him further by being a woman who was better with a pistol than a wooden spoon.

Jack had promised though, faithfully, that he would call their suspect to the station rather than venture to his home or restaurant and to take a Constable to the interview room. He was a man of his word.

Jack had almost made it into his office, when Collins called after him.

"Sir? There's a report here for you."

The Inspector accepted the folder with some well-hidden confusion. Surely Dr Mac wasn't that fast? When he opened the file he realised though that he had been mistaken. Foster had spent the night comparing fingerprints with the knife decorating Mr Geoffrey's chest. And he had come to a very clear conclusion.

"Collins, call in Malcolm Geoffrey and take him to the interview room. Oh, and Antonio Strano."

"Which one first?" Hugh asked, but the door closed before he'd received an answer.

Jack sat heavily behind his desk. He'd almost forgotten about the other murder which still lay on his desk, waiting to be solved. Malcolm Geoffrey? But Foster's report left no doubt. The fingerprints on the weapon belonged to him.

X

Miss Fisher was meanwhile sitting in her bathtub, pouting at a bar of soap. It was a very good bar of soap, but that didn't make this exercise any more enjoyable. She usually was rather fond of bathing, but there was excitement to be had, a murder to solve and here she sat, turning into a prune on the Inspector's orders. He'd promised her he would be safe. He also had made her promise that she would go home for a change of clothes and some rest. As if she needed rest! Admittedly the thought of shedding her by now sticky and crumpled dress had been compelling. Phryne Fisher had to grudgingly surrender to the fact that she didn't enjoy looking like she'd slept in her clothes, even if she had. That was particularly true in front of an Inspector who hadn't closed an eye all night and yet looked fresh like the morning sun. The strange things love could do to people.

She huffed and peeled herself from the cooling water. The large towel Dot had readied before leaving for the market, embraced her wet body with a satisfying softness and somewhat reconciled with her lot, she sashayed into her dressing room to pick herself an outfit for the day. Flicking through the collection of dresses, she traced the rich fabrics with her fingers. A velvet gown in the colour of red wine caught her attention. The gold applications were a little much perhaps, at barely lunchtime. But then, being overdressed had never hurt anyone.

She sat at her dressing table to find a matching lipstick colour when she heard them, soft little taps on the floor as if someone was trying to hide themselves away. Her heart beating in her throat she sat perfectly still. The steps drew closer. Closer. The door creaked open, a head was stuck through. Then the man froze, as he became aware of the blade that had appeared uncomfortably close to his throat. Carefully he lifted his hands as Miss Fisher stepped free from her hiding place behind the door, still wrapped in only a towel, but with a rather sharp looking knife in her hand.

"Hello, Alessandro," she said, equal parts confusion and satisfaction. "I'm glad to see you alive. Let's keep it that way."

"I'm all for that, Miss Fisher," Bricelli answered, not daring to move.

"Would you care to explain what you are doing in my house?"

"I was actually hoping to see you," Alessandro said, his eyes flickering down her rather skimpily dressed figure. Miss Fisher smiled.

"After you have done that, maybe you could me also tell me why you felt the need to lie to me."

"Whatever do you mean?"

His brown eyes rested on her in absolute innocence. She didn't believe it for a moment.

"The Padrino of the Camorra took the time to personally threaten you. I doubt that is an honour he applies to perfect strangers."

Alessandro sighed.

"Will you please remove that knife from my throat?" he asked. Phryne smiled, taking a step closer. He tried to back away but there was only the door.

"Will you tell me the whole story if I do?" she asked sweetly, completely aware that there wasn't much more than a towel separating them. Alessandro appeared a little more flushed than such a tiny knife should be able to provoke.

"Anything you want," Alessandro said breathlessly.

Miss Fisher smirked.