Apologies for this latest screw up. I've had to repost fics every day because the formatting continues to get scrambled. I think I might have to contact fanfic about this issue.
In the end, Miss Fisher had decided against her wine red gown. Being overdressed could be a terrible idea when trying not to cause a stir – which was very far from her intentions at this very moment.
"The coast is clear," she whispered towards Alessandro, who had borrowed some clothing from Bert and was looking strangely handsome in a rugged sort of way. The cabbies were currently busy on the other side of the docks, causing trouble in order to draw attention away from their mistress. So far, they seemed to have little success. There were dock workers everywhere, logging freight from A to B in what seemed little pattern. But now a moment's break opened up and the two sleuths raced for the corner of the next shed. Phryne cursed her heels, they had been a bad decision. They arrived just in time before the gap closed again with a small group of workers.
"What is our plan, Miss Fisher?" Alessandro whispered beside her ear. Phryne started. She'd rather thought she'd told him. It was interesting that he'd followed her all the same.
"Over there is the office," she said, pointing vaguely in the direction of a small hut. "We should find all paperwork there on leaving and incoming shipments."
Two men currently strolled out the door, while another worker entered. If the whole are reminded of an anthill, the queen lived in the office.
"And how exactly do you intend to get in there without being noticed?" Alessandro asked. Just in that moment all hell broke loose. Shouting sounded from the other end of the docks, feet trampled over the asphalt as people rushed towards the source of the noise.
"Like this," Phryne grinned and began to run. Nobody took any notice of the couple as they hastened to the opened door. Miss Fisher firmly closed the door behind them and turned the key.
When she looked around, Alessandro's finger was already running down the ship list lying open on the table.
"Britannia, Empress Victoria, Rona, Aurelia, Oreon…"
"...Louisa," Phryne said, looking over his shoulder. "Right there at the bottom."
"That will do," Alessandro breathed. "She's running out at 5 tonight."
"That should give us some hours to-"
Loud banging on the door cut Phryne's plan short.
"Johnny, quit your bullshit," an angry male shouted outside. The detective shot a quick panicked look around the windowless room, then realised that Alessandro was already pulling her towards the cabinet. They managed to get in and close the door just in time before the rusty lock gave way to the annoyance of the dockmaster.
"Johnny, you bastard, where are ya hidin'?" the man grunted, turning on his heels. Phryne watched him through a tiny gap and didn't dare to breath.
"You callin' for me, sir?" a voice from outside called. Moment's later a sweaty young face was stuck through the door.
"Have you been in here, Johnny?" the dockmaster asked.
"Nah, there was some ruckus in hall two," the kid said. "Had to look what's goin' on."
"Right, must have been the door bein' stuck then," the older man concluded, grumpily sitting behind his desk and burying himself in paperwork.
Miss Fisher took a gulp of air, but her relief only lasted a moment.
"We are stuck," she whispered. Alessandro's muscly body was pressed full lengths against her back, probably less for erotic reasons than for some related to the small space. She enjoyed it all the same, particularly the parts of him which weren't rendered untouched by her proximity. Carefully she turned in his arms, which brought her close to a dangerous glitter in his eyes.
"What shall we do?" he whispered, his breath brushing over her heated face. Outside, the dockmaster held a muffled conversation on the telephone in no hurry whatsoever.
"I could come up with some ideas," Miss Fisher smiled, trailing her fingertips down his chest. Alessandro's breathing grew more laboured by the second, his lips closed in. Phryne's eyes fell shut as she waited for the contact she craved.
"Johnny!" someone yelled at the top of his lungs, causing them to jerk apart as far as their crowded position allowed. Which was not very far at all. Phryne felt hysterical giggle rise in her throat.
"Sir?"
"Didn't I tell you that the Britannia needs to be loaded before the Vicky?"
"I… don't recall, Sir,…"
A muffled scream of anger cut through the rest of his stammer.
"You are bloody useless," the man spat. Then he rushed out the door, the young kid right behind him. The two sleuths spilled from the cabinet into the empty room as soon as the door had shut behind them.
"Let's get out of here," Alessandro puffed, but Miss Fisher waved him into silence, quickly rushing back to the table.
"What are you doing?"
"Looking up Louisa's position and loading plan," Miss Fisher said, absent-mindedly. "We wouldn't want to stumble straight into their arms now, would we?..." She frowned. "He pushed the time forward. She's running out at 3:30 now."
Alessandro threw a look at his watch.
"That's only two hours."
"Not enough time to regroup," Phryne said, frowning. Alessandro looked worriedly at the door that prevented him from freedom in this very moment.
"What do we do?"
She grinned.
"Slight change of plans. I do hope you can swim."
X
The door swung open under mild protest and Jack stepped into a house that already begun to smell of dust. Maria Geoffrey had moved in with her mother after her husband's death, which, all things considered, seemed a reasonable decision. But it left the flat she had shared with her husband on the Southern edge of Fitzroy, empty and neglected. Jack crossed the kitchen and entered the bedroom, where just two days ago he had looked down at the body of Jonathan Geoffrey. The sheets had since been folded away, the bed now empty and bare. He wasn't sure why he'd come back. There was nothing here that would help him. Miss Fisher would find something, a quiet voice in the back of his mind pointed out. Phryne always found things. But she wasn't interested in this case, she had made that abundantly clear.
Miss Fisher also wasn't home, as Mr Butler had informed him about 20 minutes ago, when he had finally stopped ringing with himself and picked up the phone to speak to her. She had gone out in the company of a gentleman, Mr B had made sure to explain. Jack had bitten down on his tongue before he could have uttered anything he would have regretted. Her brief spell of worry for his health and safety had obviously found its exhaustion. Jack guessed he should've expected that. He hadn't. What was worse, he felt utterly deprived of her company, though he knew how silly such a notion was. He was about to be a married man again and his sober mind told him that, if he wanted to make things work, he would have to find some distance to Miss Fisher. Yet he couldn't seem to solve a single case without her. It was pathetic.
Sighing he sat at the edge of the mattress, twisting his hat between his fingers. There wasn't a single picture here, not a sign of memories or love. He'd felt Bricelli's bedroom had been bare but this one felt like a skeleton without flesh. Big cracks ran across the single mirror hanging on the wall and he couldn't help but wonder if they were due to one of Geoffrey's outbursts - and if it had been his fist smashing the glass or the head of his wife. Anger bubbled in the Inspector's stomach. Men who raised their hands against their wives had always been an abhorrence to him. He couldn't seem to wrap his head around it. And from the little Concetta had told him about her first marriage, he considered the possibility that Fabrizzi had been one of them. The thought that anyone could hurt Concetta rose like bile in his throat and he felt the sudden need to escape this stuffy bedroom. As he jumped to his feet to leave, something crackled underneath his feet. Jack frowned as he picked up the small, patterned paper sleeve, half hidden underneath the bed. A rest of white powder lined its edges. A smile spread across his features. Of course! Why hadn't he thought of it earlier?