Chapter 11

Summary: The two detectives do what they do best...in more ways than one.

At the sound of his cuckoo clock announcing that it was well into the single hours of the morning, Jack put down the pencil he had been using to scratch down notes of their grand plan to uncover the truth behind whoever was trying to implicate Phryne. He tried to stifle a yawn and rubbed his tired eyes just as she eagerly snatched the piece of paper from his beneath his other hand and began reviewing what he had captured thus far.

As Jack had correctly presumed, Miss Fisher had done an outstanding job of filling in the gaps of the rough sketch that they had about the mysterious Norma Goodwin. Together with what Collins had looked into and Phryne had been able to glean from her Aunt Prudence's arsenal of societal gossip, they had the makings of a plan that might just draw out their quarry.

Norma had indeed come from an upper class family, and like many young women of her background, she had spent the majority of her early life at a prestigious girl's finishing school in Adelaide. This also meant that she wasn't at home when her younger sister, Ethel, had disappeared without a trace. As a result of her parents' inconsolable grief, they had sent immediately for their remaining child to return home where she became a prisoner in a gilded cage. She was rarely allowed out of her home, and whenever she did, she was always accompanied by one of her parents and a guard her father had hired.

"Let me guess," Jack had interjected at this point of Miss Fisher's recounting. "His name was Thomas Peale."

"Spot on, Inspector," Phryne had exclaimed in approval, clinking her tumbler against his in an appreciative toast. "I suppose that after spending such close proximity to one another for years, it didn't come as such a great surprise when the two lovebirds had eloped."

"If that's the case, then why has his file gone, er, cold?" Jack had wondered out loud. "I mean, we know he enlisted, but what happened to him after that? If he didn't make it home, there should be a death certificate or 'missing in action' notice registered at the very least."

"Well, according to the rumour mill..." Miss Fisher had dramatically paused until Jack had rolled his eyes at her. "It would seem that dear old Tom became enamoured with an actress he met towards the end of the war. Someone from a touring dance troupe, you know, the ones who were meant to boost morale, that sort of thing."

"Ah, yes," Jack had replied noncommittally with a slight smirk and meaningful lift of his eyebrows.

"Believe it or not, but I'm actually not speaking from firsthand experience about that," she had harrumphed in near serious indignation at his presumption. "Although, I may have lent my vocals at a few sing-alongs on the front, my time on the stage didn't dawn until after I had returned to England."

At Jack's amused nod that she promptly ignored, Miss Fisher continued weaving her tale about Norma. After being so cruelly deserted by her husband who had pursued his paramour all the way to America apparently, Norma Goodwin Peale swore she could never return to the suffocating life she had experienced at home with her parents. Instead, she put her clever mind to good use and began enrolling into many of the modern secretarial courses opened to women at the time following the war. Eventually, she had been able to put her new knowledge of typing and shorthand to good use by securing a post at a local newspaper. From what Aunt Prudence told her, the Goodwins were appalled enough at the fact that their daughter was earning, but they absolutely refused to have anything to do with her once she had started working for the newspaper. Due to the ongoing rift between Norma and her family, she had continued using her married name even after her divorce had gone through, although she'd reverted to using her maiden name socially.

"Apparently, the main reason for Norma's success has hinged on the fact that she's been able to dig up people's 'deepest' and 'darkest' secrets and then expose them in that poor excuse for decent journalism."

"And most likely, the Daily Star hasn't had any qualms about paying out for scandalous headlines or having them written up by a woman so long as she can keep dishing it out" Jack had agreed as his brow wrinkled in distaste. "But surely even Mrs Stanley wouldn't stoop to learning that level of detail?"

"Of course not!" Phryne had waved a hand to dismiss the notion. "Last night, Bert apparently bought Stormy Normy a few rounds or two at the pub. He managed to discover that the scoundrel was one of Norma's main sources. She's been more than happy for him to assume the easy misunderstanding with their similar-sounding names."

"No doubt so she can continue to profit from the slander without worrying about the consequences of having to dig up the dirt directly."

"Except when it comes to spying on you and I all the way in Warburton," she couldn't help concluding.

Somehow, over the course of their plotting, Phryne had ended up perching on the corner of the desk that had been in Jack's family for decades. It was the only piece of furniture that he had ever been attached to and had insisted on keeping even when it had never quite matched his ex-wife' several attempts at redecorating. Now, his lips quirked slightly in amusement as he leaned back in his chair to regard Phryne who had begun swinging one of her dark trousered-clad legs distractedly.

An implacable feeling of deep-rooted contentment bloomed at the familiar sight and moment reflective of previous and recent moments spent in his office at City South as they had wrestled through other puzzles together. It felt more than just 'right' since that sentiment didn't seem concrete enough. In fact, nothing seemed adequate to express his recognition that this remarkable woman next to him somehow just belonged there. Even if she had initially steam-rolled her way into his cases, his office...and now straight into his house.

It wasn't lost on him that for someone who prided herself on being the butterfly that flitted here and there, she was somehow managing to embed herself more deeply into his life. On his part, he could now acknowledge that this odd kinship he felt with her had woven itself far more intricately into his being than just their obvious physical attraction to one another (although that very much still bubbled dangerously and enticingly beneath). He also knew that now was not the time to attempt to identify what this meant for him. Or for her. But at least he was confident of the fact that she had secured his loyalty and earned his trust, and that especially now, he would stand by her.

After her sullen statement, she grew uncharacteristically quiet. Jack knew she had again become anxious about the compromising photos that no doubt Norma had somehow obtained in her vendetta to ruin the Honourable Phryne Fisher. He lifted a brow at her questioningly when she reached out to touch his arm lightly.

"I wouldn't have gone out there to find you if I had any idea that all this was going to happen, Jack," she admitted morosely.

"I must admit, I'm really glad that you did get to visit my fishing hut, Miss Fisher," he surprised and pleased her with his response as he roused himself out of his reverie to reply. "I might have starved otherwise." He couldn't help giving her an outright grin when she swatted at him playfully before gripping his arm in earnest.

"But those photos, Jack! I can only imagine what your superiors, or your colleagues...and...others must think of you now."

She paused, uncomfortable at the thought that she didn't know who else was in his life who might have the right to be concerned. At the same time, she was furious as at what all the gossip mongers must no doubt be gleefully prattling their tongues over. Daring to socially slander this honourable man whom she admired and respected so much.

"I told you that my reputation doesn't matter to me in the least, Miss Fisher."

Their eyes locked as they had earlier before Jack had been forced to leave her behind in her cell. Now, they could resume that emotionally-laden, unspoken conversation without interruption. Until Jack leaned back and cleared his throat abruptly.

"Besides, we need to focus on yours right now. And, more importantly, we have the opportunity to clear your name as well with this elaborate plan." He gestured towards the piece of paper that Phryne still held. "Especially if it works out."

"Of course it will work, Jack! She simply won't be able to resist."

"Not many people can when it comes to anything to do with you, Miss Fisher," he said knowingly.

"Hmm," she replied in a non-committal tone. "Unfortunately, it's not always in a favourable vein."

"Perhaps," he acknowledged before eyeing her with an inquisitive tilt of the head. "But that's never really seemed to bother you before."

She stilled at his assessment and stared down at the piece of paper she still held with such concentration that Jack wouldn't have been surprised to see it begin to burst into flame. When she still didn't respond, he leaned forward then in concern and gently placed a hand onto her knee and simply waited. His touch seemed to tether her back to the moment, prompting her to lift haunted eyes towards him.

"Only because this is the first time it has to do with someone else like me." She looked away as an obvious wave of emotion tried to engulf her. "I mean, another person who lost her sister to this monster…and yet..."

"And yet instead of directing her anger and grief at who is most likely responsible for it, she's channelled it towards you instead," Jack summarized whilst gently removing his hand and wanting more than anything to pull her into his arms to offer her what comfort he could. But battling within himself to not go near the delicate tightrope stretched taut between them.

"But I don't understand how she could think that I'd be in league with that despicable bastard when he… he… he took my little sister too!"

Phryne threw the outline back onto Jack's desk before jumping to her feet in indignation. She clenched her fists and steeled herself from the overwhelming loss and anger she had learned to hold at bay so well. Even though she had already learned to trust this man with her innermost feelings and the years of harboured self-incrimination and pain over losing Janey, a small part of stubborness to relinquish control still wanted to flee from it all.

But just as she was about to move away, Jack instinctively reached out to grasp her wrist and gently tugged her towards him. The momentum of his action pulled her off balance and onto his lap. They again locked eyes as they became acutely aware of the other's sudden closeness. Before he could think, Jack gave in to his earlier feelings and wrapped one arm about her, pulling her frame close against his chest as the other cradled her head just as he had the night before.

Still battling with the sudden eruption of her anger and grief, Phryne stubbornly pulled back slightly. Her stormy gaze began to leak with the tears she couldn't prevent. Again, Jack felt himself responding to the sight of her struggling not to weep. Before his mind registered what was happening, his body directed his lips gently against hers as he sought to reassure her in the one way that he felt his words alone couldn't adequately convey in that moment.

At his unexpected gesture, Phryne immediately stopped resisting and leaned into the source of the delicious sensations quickly taking over her emotions. His lips tasted of the sweet traces of apple that mingled with her salty tears, and the simultaneously foreign yet familiar essence of just him .

All manner of thought and words fled between them, and she dove into the heady bliss of losing herself in the delightful frisson that burst through the heavy melancholy of moments earlier. For weeks and months now, she had been so drawn to his beautiful mouth with its untold storage of nearly imperceptible smiles and other secrets. That gatekeeper of the voice that she could hear even in her subconscious moments. Now, these wonderful lips were released upon her own at last and trailing their way against her neck and down towards her…

Suddenly, a distinctive tapping sound pierced through their haze of passion, which they still managed to ignore until the repetitive pattern finally penetrated and reached both detectives' consciousness. Phryne heard Jack utter a curse and she barely managed to stifle a moan of frustration. They both reluctantly pried open their eyes only to find themselves tangled together and sprawled halfway across Jack's desk.

Phryne's fingers were clutching at the front of Jack's shirt that she had managed to unbutton enough to reveal a well-formed chest. She couldn't resist lightly running her nails across the final layer of his singlet revealed beneath, openly ogling the appealing image of the disheveled inspector pressed against her. Jack, however, immediately released his hold against her hair and awkwardly removed his other hand from under her blouse as he straightened back up to a standing position and began to wildly clear his throat.

"Please accept my deepest apologies, Miss Fisher," he began to blurt out as he held out a hand to her. "I was overcome by your grief and anger earlier, and mainly sought to reassure you…"

"Feel free to reassure me any time, Inspector," she invited him with a knowing smile, giving him the dignity of averting her gaze away from his lower body and its evident response to their too brief interlude. She eagerly accepted his strong hand that helped pull her up into a sitting position. With a furtive glance toward him, she began straightening out her attire without any qualms.

"No! I mean, thank you for not berating me," he continued earnestly. "But, please do forgive me for taking such liberties when I clearly shouldn't have done so." He stopped waving his hands in his overwrought attempts to apologize to her when she reached out to begin doing up his shirt. She stilled them when he closed his hands over hers gently.

"There's nothing to forgive, Jack," she reassured him. "Like I've told you, I know you are nothing, but a man of honour. I trust you implicitly."

"Thank you, but I'll take it from here, Miss Fisher," he told her, with a hint of a smile at her profound admission. He then gave her a shake of his head when she managed to recover his tie from beneath a rather rumpled sheet or two of paper that hadn't been pushed over the side. "Now, who would be knocking at my door at this hour?"

"Oh, I believe I know the explanation to that, Inspector," Phryne informed him nonchalantly as she slid gracefully to her feet looking as fresh as she always did albeit now wearing much less of her usual crimson lipstick. "It was a precaution, if you will. With all that's been going on, I didn't want anyone to see me leaving my house, especially to come to you here."

"Is it Albert?" Jack asked as understanding dawned and he accompanied her back towards the kitchen and his back door where the tapping had begun again.

"Yes, poor man, he's been such an angel doing all this extra chauffeuring for me of late. We used Dot as a decoy again earlier. Bert took her for a spin and then I slipped out and took a normal taxicab."

They had reached the kitchen and Jack began helping her to repack the dinner things into the basket as Phryne continued to explain. "I had the driver drop me off a street away from here just in case. I had arranged for Bert to return for me and to come directly and knock at your back door...in case I didn't show up at our rendezvous point."

"I'm not sure whether I should be worried or glad that the red raggers know where I live."

"How else do you think I managed to find you, Inspector?" She teased him as she took the proffered basket and sashayed towards the back door.

"I've the feeling that the less I know, the better. At least they...and you...don't have my new address yet," he challenged her in a half-mocking tone.

"You know I always have my ways, Jack," she informed him with a saucy look over her shoulder as he opened the door and stood back for her to exit. To his relief, there didn't seem to be any sign of the cabbie who was no doubt waiting for her somewhere nearby.

"Unfortunately, or perhaps, fortunately for me."

"By the way, I do hope you aren't intending to sell that lovely desk of yours before your move, Inspector. At least, not until we've been able to fully and completely establish its sturdiness."

Before he could respond, she leaned against him and gave him a quick kiss good night on the cheek before vanishing into the darkness of his garden as quickly as she had previously materialized. Jack remained there in a cloud of her fragrance and still in a daze over what had just happened...and what had nearly happened.

"Good night, Miss Fisher," he spoke softly into the void.

The inspector then closed and locked the door securely as he turned off all the lights. He then headed for his bed vowing then and there that he would definitely never part with that desk, and especially not in the foreseeable future.