Chapter 3

Summary: Phryne discovers that she is being followed and decides to investigate...

The Honourable Phryne Fisher gave in at last from attempting to glean another word from the book she had been squinting at as she enjoyed the remainder of the day in her side garden. She rose gracefully to her elegantly-clad feet, clasping the book to her chest, whilst pausing to watch the last tendrils of the summer's sunset unfurl across the clear expanse of the evening sky. Suddenly, the book slipped through her grasp as she frantically swatted away at some insect or other that had dared to swerve its course close to her now bent bare head.

Just as she did so, however, the lady detective took a surreptitious glance sideways through the curtain of her hair and over the top of her well-trimmed hedgerows. As she suspected, the faint glow from a cigarette that still appeared from time to time across the road confirmed her unwanted shadow still existed. She then knelt down as though to retrieve the novel, using her movements to peer intently through the bushes to confirm what she had suspected throughout the day.

In fact, it hadn't taken her long to notice that she was being watched and followed. After breakfast, there had been a brief council meeting with her household to go over the events of the night before during which both Jane and Mr Butler dutifully recounted everything they could remember about Foyle's 'visit.' Jack had then taken his leave, but, not without reiterating strict instructions for everyone to be on the alert for anything suspicious and to report it immediately to one of the officers on duty.

The inspector's departure was followed by the ringing of Wardlow's brand new telephone. Aunt Prudence was on the line, having just seen the papers during her breakfast. Phryne had rolled her eyes as she held the receiver to her ear. She wasn't the least surprised to learn that Guy and Isabella had decided to make up for their ruined party by booking themselves into the Windsor for an indeterminable time. After asking how her cousin Arthur was faring, Phryne had then endured her aunt's tirade over the ruin of her perfectly planned party and the recurring threat against her family members.

The societal matriarch had then lamented over the tizzy that that blasted tabloid had set off with its ridiculous allegations against her niece. In fact, Phryne was rather exasperated that she had to spend the majority of the conversation reassuring her frantic aunt that Inspector Robinson had undertaken appropriate precautions for her household's safety. She reassured Prudence that she had already started looking into this latest mystery in which she found herself so deeply embroiled. Phryne had even reassured her aunt that she planned to meet with her trusted solicitors to seek their legal opinion on the matter. Eventually satisfied that her niece seemed to have the situation under control, Prudence reluctantly began to wind down her diatribe.

"I suppose I may as well admit, my dear," her aunt sniffed in one of her begrudging tones, "that it's moments like these that make me feel rather grateful for the close connection you hold with that dour inspector of yours."

"Indeed, Aunt P?" Her niece had arched an eyebrow slightly, curious by her aunt's uncharacteristic admission. "I've always deeply valued Inspector Robinson's presence and assistance."

"Yes, well," Prudence had told her fondly before hanging up. "I never thought I'd say this, but I do sleep so much better knowing that if you continue to insist on chasing after criminals like you have been since your return to Melbourne, then at least you're not doing it on your own."

Afterwards, it was whilst Phryne had agreed to a stroll with Jane that the lady detective had experienced the sensation of being watched. There was nothing in particular that made the man driving the nondescript, black motorcar stand out other than the fact she had recalled seeing him already that morning. It was just as Jack had left Wardlow. Her partner was nearly at the gate when he had spun around momentarily to touch his hand to the rim of his hat with one of his rare lopsided smiles tugging at his mouth. After Phryne had beamed a smile back at him in return from where she still stood on her doorstep, Jack had then righted himself only to barely collide with a couple strolling past arm-in-arm. The woman, who had been wearing an expensive black and red embroidered jacket, had smiled in response to the inspector's profuse apologies before tugging at her partner's arm to pull him further along the path in the direction of the foreshore. That same man who was now driving past her and Jane as they sauntered down the pathway.

Wanting to test her theory, Phryne had then told Jane that she had forgotten to inform Dot about something pressing and the two women had instantly swung about to retrace their steps back home. It wasn't until they had returned and Phryne had then walked into the parlour heeding her tingling intuition to see the same man reappear. Only, this time he was on the other side of the square and had settled onto a park bench next to a large tree with a newspaper before lighting a cigarette. She had then sped to the telephone in the hallway and was waiting for her call to be put through to Jack before she even realized it.

Now, she wondered whether she had been too hasty in contacting the inspector so soon after he had left, and after he had spent (or attempted to anyway, bless the dear man) the night keeping watch over her household. She had immediately thought that Jack had sounded off for some reason, slightly more restrained than usual, as he listened silently to her suspicions about the mysterious man. He had sounded a bit more like himself after she had also informed him that she had discovered some of her writing stationery had gone missing. But then, he had seemed to hedge his response after she had invited him to come over for dinner later so they could go over everything in more detail then.

"Well, that is very kind of you, Miss Fisher," he had told her rather formally. "But, I, er, shouldn't like to impose so soon again on your generous hospitality."

"Fiddlesticks, Jack, I absolutely insist!" She had then paused, trying rapidly to decipher the reason behind his reluctance. "Unless, you already have other plans, Inspector? After all, I wouldn't want to continue monopolizing your valuable time."

"No, no," he had quickly reassured her with a bit more of the familiar nuances in his voice that she had grown rather partial to. "It's just, there have been several new...developments here at work that are keeping me bound to my desk. Would it be too late to join you instead for a night cap?"

"Never!" She had vehemently reassured him at the time, her incurable curiosity wondering what these 'work development' of his could entail.

Now, it was nearly around the usual time when Jack would have normally arrived for what was beginning to become their customary night cap. But they usually shared one to celebrate the end of another case. Perhaps, that was it. Maybe Jack was still feeling awkward about things since her attempts at persuading him to join her in 'one gaudy night.' Had that really only been the evening before? If, however, he was still being extra conscious about being seen with her on social terms only, why had he come to Guy and Isabella's party (and straight from the divorce courts more or less as she had been able to ascertain from unwitting Hugh)? And then stay the entire evening, albeit in his car outside her home? Or maybe, he was trying to keep his distance as a result of all these absurd allegations being thrown at her?

Suddenly, rubbing her hands along her bare arms to ward off a slight shiver, Phryne decided Jack was simply still held up at the office. She then chastised herself for moping about like some lovesick school girl. Honestly, the turmoil of Foyle's return and her sleepless night were simply getting to her. Pushing aside her pointless thoughts, she ignored the presence of her unwanted guest across the square and resolutely marched back inside in search of something to warm her up from the inside out.

But, eventually as the clock announced the passing of another hour, the inspector was still nowhere to be seen.

~oOo~

Phryne startled herself awake the moment she felt herself slip into the numb unconsciousness that her body finally succumbed to when all her senses finally gave up from sheer exhaustion. She told herself that it nothing to do with the telephone call that she had received barely half an hour ago from an extremely apologetic-sounding Jack.

"I'm so sorry, Miss Fisher," he had begun their brief conversation, "but you will have gathered that I will not be able to enjoy your wonderful company even for a night cap tonight, I'm afraid."

"I understand, Jack," she had tried to reassure him without revealing the gnawing sense of disappointment that she had been avidly ignoring all evening. "You must be working on an extremely busy case then. You know you can always rely on me to help lighten the load?"

There was a moment's tangible silence that Phryne scolded her treacherous mind to respect.

"Phryne…" he hesitated just as the husky register of his voice caressing her name nearly made her want to swoon (honestly, what was happening to her lately?). "I truly want to tell you all about it, and I'll try. But, please trust me when I say that I can't at the moment."

"Are you all right, Jack?" She did begin to worry when she sensed something else was going on that she realized he was unable to reveal over the telephone. "Shall I come see you at the station tomorrow instead?"

"No, er, I mean, you could if you would like, of course, but, I'm afraid that I won't be here." His cryptic response only made her really wanted to rush over to City South that very instant in order to wrangle everything straight out of him.

"Jack Robinson, where on earth will you be then?"

"I'm sorry, Miss Fisher," he managed. "All I can share at this point is that I've been asked to take a few days' mandatory leave out of town at the behest of the deputy commissioner. Starting tomorrow morning."

His tone became worried when he realized he had succeeded, at such an inopportune moment, to render her completely speechless.

"I really am sorry for the short notice, Phryne, please do forgive me. I'll keep you further informed as soon as I'm able. I promise."

"Good night then, Jack." Not having much other choice, she couldn't quite hide the reluctance and disappointment from her tone before replacing the receiver on her telephone.

Now, chastising herself for lapsing into sleep, the lady detective adjusted her black beret and straightened the outfit she had chosen for her self-appointed vigil from the shadows of Wardlow's balcony. Rising quietly from the wrought iron chair she had managed to move into the shadows, Phryne still felt on edge from her earlier conversation with Jack and everything else so that the restlessness had driven her to return out of doors. Peering out slightly from behind the house's front column, she was gratified to not spot the telltale sign of the cigarette across the way. Even so, her senses remained alert when she still felt the tingling sensation of being watched.

This is utterly ridiculous, she suddenly decided, and it ends now!

And with that, the intrepid lady detective pressed herself back up against the bricks of her beautiful home. Sparing a glance towards her still lightly lit bedroom window, she edged along the wall until she was on the far side of the house no longer facing the front. Quickly searching up and down the quiet and empty street down the side of 221B, she quickly made her way towards the back where she easily knotted the rope she kept in a secure box securely to the balcony (one simply never knew when one might need an alternative exit after all). Vaulting over the side, she grasped the rope and quickly slipped down over the side and eventually landed onto one of Mr Butler's well-tended flowerbeds.

Making a mental note to apologize to the dear man for squashing one of his long-blooming dahlias, Phryne crossed the street and used her neighbour's hedgerows for cover as she tried to hone in on the eyes still insistent on watching her house. Edging along the topiary, she hid behind a parked automobile and focused her senses on the grove of trees nestled along the square just a bit further down from where she had found Jack holding his nightwatch vigil over her and her household only the night before. She then skirted the corner of her neighbour's property and headed in the opposite direction just further enough down the street so that she could cross it without being seen by anyone from either the square or anywhere near Wardlow. She next slipped down an alleyway and headed back towards the direction of her home, but now from one block behind. Taking the pathway behind the row of houses, she then stepped quietly into the small, park-like square whilst keeping to the shadows of the nearby trees. No one else was about as all the residents of her street were most likely tucked up in bed by now, or should have been.

She was just about to dart in the direction of one of the park benches that was hidden by the street when her adrenaline spiked and rose to a crescendo, signalling that she was not alone. Anchoring her feet and bending her knees suddenly, Phryne whipped around in the dark and grabbed hold of her unsuspecting assailant. Using the momentum of his acceleration towards her, she pulled and rotated herself swiftly, swinging his not inconsiderable body mass over her shoulder and throwing him to the ground in front of her in a move that her Japanese Judo instructor would have applauded.

Unfortunately, he had managed to grapple her in the process, which resulted in her tipping off balance. With a loud curse, she landed straight on top of his chest and struggled against the arms that still grasped her tightly. Indignantly shaking the hair that had loosened from her beret out of her face, she tensed her muscles and readied herself for a well-aimed move against the intruder's groin when she instantly froze. The Honourable Phryne Fisher again found herself speechless as she stared into an all-too familiar exasperated expression belonging to none other than Detective Inspector Jack Robinson.