Chapter 13
Summary: The detectives nab their suspects before weaving together the threads of this latest mystery (with carrot cake and a semi-disrobed Jack).
Suffocating silence smothered him, cutting off his breathing, and threatening to obliterate his consciousness by dragging him back into that cavern of hell where his mind convinced him he was back in the trenches. It rarely, if ever, happened these days, and hadn't for several years now except when he found himself in a situation that could trigger the memories that he had eventually learned to process and keep at bay after returning home following the war. Breathing in as deeply as possible through his nose, Jack blinked in the darkness as the aftermath of adrenaline and pain screamed throughout his body and then acidic fear hammered throughout this mind as he registered the pungent odour of gunpowder and sickly scent of blood permeating the atmosphere.
"Phh-ryne!" He managed to rasp out into the void, fighting to control his alarm by silently counting to three before blowing it out through his mouth. "Miss Fisher?"
"Jack! Where are you?" In spite of the panic laced throughout her tone, the sound of her voice immediately filled him with a sense of peace and calm before his own concern again surged when he wondered if she had been hurt.
"I'm right here, Miss Fisher," he replied more loudly. "And you? Are you hurt?"
Jack instantly sprang upright at the sound of someone groaning in pain beneath him, jolting him to his senses as he scrambled to remove his weight off of her. As his ears stopped ringing, he then heard a rustling noise followed by cursing and more moaning from another quarter of the room. The crunch of broken glass cut through the other noises just before the hiss of a sudden flame burst forth, emitting a soft circle of light.
"I'm fine Jack," came Phryne's welcome response, "how about you?"
Jack let out the breath he didn't realize he had been holding as her pale face materialized within the aura of the lighter's flame she held aloft. As his eyes quickly adjusted, he could make out her other arm gripping her gun that was still aimed in the direction of where he presumed Edwards had been previously standing.
"I seem to be in much better condition than Miss Goodwin seems to be."
He indicated towards the still unconscious form he was crouching next to, the sight of which spurred Phryne over towards them. She quickly passed her weapon to Jack who stood up and immediately took over guarding Edwards as Miss Fisher knelt to check on Norma.
"Serves her right for double-crossing me," Edwards muttered from the gloom before cursing in pain. "Stop wasting your time with her and call me a bloody ambulance!"
Before either of the detectives could respond, the sound of a crashing door followed by rushing footsteps echoed from further down the corridor. The sudden flood of lights illuminating the hallway blinded the occupants of the small room just as Constable Collins rushed inside past the filing cabinet with his gun aloft.
"Police!" He cried, halting himself before he could trip over the incumbent form of Miss Goodwin where Phryne was still examining her. "Ah, good to see you, Miss, and, Sir! And that you've got the situation under control!"
Dot then peered around the corner of the door frame, rushing over to her mistress' side soon as she spotted her on the floor, the young woman's face clouded in concern.
"Collins, take Mr Edwards here into custody," the inspector instructed with a tilt of his head towards the other man who was still sitting on the floor cradling his sprained hand. "And call an ambulance for Miss Goodwin.
"Yes, sir!"
As Hugh assisted Jack with securing Edwards and his weapon, the women turned Norma onto her back after Phryne had established that the reporter was not in dire danger and had simply passed out from a concussion. Judging from the growing bruise along her forehead and the angle where she had landed when Jack had pushed her away from Edwards' aim, it would seem she had struck her head along the corner of the desk. A cursory glance through Miss Goodwin's handbag had revealed a small pistol and a handful of pens, which the maid felt would not make the most comforting makeshift pillow. Dot used her own handbag to cushion the still unconscious woman's head before handing Norma's handbag and its dangerous contents to Phryne.
"I've always known you could knock a woman off her feet, Jack," Miss Fisher informed him with a saucy grin as he approached to help her to her feet. "I just never assumed you'd be this thorough at it."
"All in the line of duty, Miss Fisher," he quipped as she reached up to brush some broken elements of the shattered light bulb from his shoulder and gently ran her finger through his hair to check for any cuts. "Will she be all right?"
"Yes, I believe so, but best to have a current medical expert examine her all the same. At least he never got the chance to shoot her."
"Or you!" He also gave in to the need to touch her as his earlier fear briefly flared, reaching out to gently cup the side of her face. "Things could have gone quite differently, Phryne."
"You know we wouldn't have let that happen, Jack," she scolded him soothingly, satisfied that he seemed for the most part uninjured. "Taking out the light fixture was brilliant, by the way!"
He tilted his head in acknowledgement before lifting his eyebrows to match his questioning tone. "How did you end up down here anyway?"
"Just as arrived, I saw Edwards sneaking out of the main hall and looking extremely suspicious when he unlocked a neatly hidden door. So naturally, I just had to follow him and it led right down here. He then tried to apprehend and detain me in a cell, most likely in hopes of luring you down here eventually, Jack."
"Hmm," Jack responded before turning towards the other man. "What were you doing down here, Mr Edwards?"
"I imagine they were hoping to say that they 'caught us in the act' or some such nonsense and alert everyone upstairs in an attempt to truly ruin both of us," Phryne surmised, not bothering to hide a disgusted glare at Norma. "Who knew she would be desperate enough to resort to actual murder and attempt to pin it on an upstanding officer of the law."
"I should have just shot you when I had the chance," Edwards growled as Hugh hauled him to his feet after cuffing him.
"Believe me, the feeling is utterly mutual," Phryne resounded as she whirled about as Hugh began to escort the cursing man out of the room. "I'm beginning to regret the fact that I'm too excellent of a shot!"
"I think you've at least ensured that he won't be picking up anything, let alone a gun, for the foreseeable future, Miss Fisher," Jack observed out loud.
"And now you can ensure he won't be going anywhere outside a jail cell for the foreseeable future," Phryne conceded just as they heard the sound of Prudence's shrill voice floating down the corridor. "I should go make sure Aunt P and our guests are all right."
"Will you be all right to remain here with Miss Goodwin until I can go telephone the incident to Russell Street, Miss Williams?" Jack looked over towards Dot before moving back to the reporter's idle form. He then removed his hidden iron derbys to bound her hands together. "Once the ambulance arrives, I'll then need to accompany her to hospital until I can arrange for someone to come stand guard there."
"Of course, Inspector," Dot quickly agreed. "You should go back up to the hall, Miss, I'll be fine here until the inspector returns or the paramedics come down."
Bidding her companion a temporary farewell, Phryne immediately looped her arm through Jack's as they made their way back down the musky hallway in the direction that Jack had taken.
"What else are you keeping hidden beneath your fine evening wear, Inspector?" She asked innocently, reaching over to run her free hand down his jacket possessively. "Since I was cheated out of a proper evening to admire you in it, I absolutely insist you come over for a nightcap so I can enjoy it on you for as long as I can."
Their eyes locked as the atmosphere between them again suddenly charged with unvoiced intent and untold promises.
"I believe that could be arranged,Miss Fisher," Jack agreed, reaching up to adjust his suddenly tight collar a little. "For the nightcap, I mean."
"Until then, Inspector." Phryne smiled knowingly as she regretfully let go of his arm and jacket. They had reached the top of the stairs where they were met by an extremely worried Prudence Stanley.
~oOo~
The sound of the rain played a methodical melody against the window panes, nearing lulling Phryne to sleep as she nestled into the deep cushion of her window seat. She rested her chin on the top of her knees that were drawn up against her chest. In her hands, she toyed with the empty glass dangling from her fingers as the evening's minutes steadily seeped away. The house was silent as nearly everyone within had retreated for the night. But still, she remained, sifting through the events of the evening that swirled and ebbed in and out of her mind like the water pooling against the front steps outside.
Although they had been able to more than confirm their suspects' involvement in the mysterious headlines, the lady detective felt far from triumphant. Of course, there was the satisfaction that came with knowing Martin Edwards and Norma Goodwin were now long-term recipients of Melbourne's finest constabulary custody. Based on their treacherous words and actions at the college alone, neither would be experiencing life outside of jail for quite a long time.
Even so, Phryne knew that she and Jack wouldn't be satisfied until they were able to unravel the answers to the remaining questions behind the couple's motivations. Or the fact that newer questions kept springing forth like unwanted weeds as soon as others were nipped in the bud. For example, who else had assisted them in their efforts to implicate her? There was still too many unknowns cluttering her mind. At least the lady detective was able to admit to herself now that the quest for discovery had been taking more of a toll on her than she had expected, especially due to the nature of the similar links between herself and Norma. Thus, in the same way she recalled poking at barely healed scabs as a child, Phryne continued to ruminate on the latest intel that Dot had managed to sleuth out.
Apparently, the reporter had revived not too long after the detectives had left Dot behind with her charge. The woman had instantly recognized Miss Fisher's maid and began cursing and spewing her rage upon discovering her plans had been 'ruined by that despicable woman.' Loyal as ever, Dot had instantly defended her miss, even pointing out to the other woman that she could have been shot or worse if it hadn't been for Miss Fisher. Norma had then apparently declared that she would have preferred the latter because it would have been preferable to being beholden to someone she so despised.
"Were you able to assess any clues that might explain her motives, Dot?" Phryne had queried her maid as they drove home.
"Actually, yes, Miss," her faithful companion had eagerly told her. "I asked her outright what she had against you, and how she could print such nasty and false information about you… and the inspector. That she had no right to do that because none of it was true."
From what Dot had been able to draw out from the agitated woman, several more pieces of the puzzle began to click into place. Tragically, Dot's words revealed the putrid portrait of someone who had allowed so much of her past heartache to fester until she had become a victim to it. And the only way she could cope was to research and capture the terrible things that happened to others. The illusion of control that this gave her led her to start unearthing, and even inventing the type of dirt about others that was close enough to the truth to sell newspaper headlines.
"She told me that if you have money, you can get away with everything," Dot had continued, "and for some reason, she really felt this about you, Miss, and nearly everyone who was rich or privileged. It's really sad to think about, but I remembered what you told me about her family and, and whether this was where her resentment started."
Phryne had agreed with her companion's avid assessment, and she thought about it again now. Shaking her head, she circled back to the one missing link: what was Norma's connection to Martin Edwards? And did the reporter have one to Murdoch Foyle? She closed her eyes in frustration just as a distinct tapping suddenly broke through the steady rhythm of the rain and Phryne's thoughts. The sound immediately sent a burst of joy throughout her being that propelled her towards her front door before the noise could reach Mr Butler's impeccable hearing.
"Jack!" She greeted him happily, instantly charmed by his bedraggled appearance as she reached out to pull him inside. "Come in and get out of those wet things before you catch cold."
"But that would then defeat your wish to admire my evening wear for as long as you could," he reminded her cheekily with a quirk to his lips as she helped to divest him of his outerwear.
"Well, it would seem that Mother Nature has seen fit to grant me what I truly meant," she confided with unmistakable emphasis to her meaning, just barely brushing her lips close to his ear. As she turned away with his dripping coat, Jack was glad she couldn't see how the effects of her words and actions quickly dissipated the cold still clinging to his body. Just as they arrived on the threshold of Mr Butler's pristine domain, the man himself appeared before them, as affable and efficient as ever despite the fact he wore his evening robe in place of his customary suit.
"You just leave that to me, Miss Fisher," he said, stepping forward to retrieve the inspector's sodden coat. "I'm happy to take your evening jacket as well, sir, before the damp ruins it. And, would you both like some tea and perhaps a slice or two of carrot cake? I made two considering Mr Johnson was dining with us earlier."
"That sounds lovely, Mr B! Although, if you could please look after the inspector's things so they dry properly," Phryne instructed him, "I'm perfectly happy to take care of the rest."
"Of course, Miss," he agreed. "It's good to see you, Inspector, I'll take care of your coat and jacket straight away."
"Er, thank you, Mr Butler, but you really don't need to trouble yourself," Jack reassured the man who had already disappeared before the inspector could finish protesting.
The sound of objects clinking and clanking returned Jack's attention to the kitchen where he watched in fascination at seeing the Honourable Phryne Fisher buzzing about with the tea things. A keen sense of deja vu invaded him as the recent memory of her taking over his kitchen only a few nights ago mixed with the current scene of her gesturing towards the table. He quickly blocked the direction of where that memory was vividly about to lead, but it was difficult when he glanced down at the sturdy wooden surface.
"I wasn't sure if you would still come tonight," Phryne commented casually, although her eyes betrayed her avid interest at his discomposure. The wicked woman then openly smouldered at him when she couldn't help noticing the way his waistcoat hugged his trim torso and displayed his usually hidden arms to full effect. Willing himself not to blush again, Jack swallowed a mouthful of cake, a slightly sheepish expression marking his features as he looked up at her. Phryne leaned over with a small smile to wipe off a smear of icing from the corner of his lips, relishing the fact that he looked for all the world like he had just been caught in the middle of something he shouldn't have been indulging in.
"I almost didn't as I was afraid it would be too late," he admitted, quickly commandeering the napkin she suddenly produced. He leaned back and slightly away from her, shielding himself behind the cup and saucer he took up after stirring in a few extra lumps of sugar for added fortification.
"I'm glad you did," she reassured him, pouring herself a steaming cup of tea and uncharacteristically accepting his sudden demarcation for some space.
Sensing he was experiencing something deeper than he might be ready to share with her, Phryne tactfully changed the subject and filled him in on Dot's discoveries regarding Norma Goodwin's side of the story. She watched Jack carefully as she spoke, recalling the earlier anxiety that she herself had felt down in the former cell just after Jack had shot at the light and they were all engulfed into the oppressive darkness. As someone who was more than familiar with all manner of spectres that the dark could unleash she wagered that their recent showdown may have stirred up some buried ghosts for her normally unflappable partner as well. She also noted that the dark cloud he had carried in with him initially had somehow dissipated as she concluded Norma's revelations. Jack immediately abandoned his second slice of cake to lean forward and touch her hand in concern just as she finished speaking.
"Phryne, remember that you are not at all responsible for anything that woman thinks about you or accuses you of," he assured her again staunchly. "What you've just told me corroborates much of what Collins and I were able to glean from Edwards' confession tonight. It's always illuminating what someone will spill when the possibility of becoming an 'accessory to murder' looms imminently."
According to Jack, Edwards had admitted to 'picking up a few things' from his connections with Senior Sergeant Grossmith, which he was all too eager to tell the inspector in attempts to reduce any possible charges laid against him. This revealed a key piece of the puzzle, namely, the incriminating letter that Foyle had left behind before he had disappeared with Matthew Tizzard in their elaborate escape. In fact, Grossmith had instructed Edwards to pocket anything from the two prisoners' cells before they could be searched, promising him that he'd be 'protected and taken care of' if he did so. And so, Edwards had hid the evidence, especially after Grossmith had been arrested. No point in drawing any undue attention towards himself after all. Edwards then waited for the right opportunity, which came along via an anonymously typed letter he had received instructing him to sell the information he had to the press 'at the right moment.'
"Hmm, let me guess, this was about the time when he was first approached by a certain reporter?" Phryne stated, more than enquired since it didn't really take much of their deductive skills to work out this seeming coincidence.
"True enough," Jack conceded, "but the letter wasn't from Miss Goodwin apparently. And though I tried to question him again about it later, he really didn't seem to know who had sent it to him. Just that it seemed to be from someone who had been in touch with Grossmith previously." He squeezed Phryne's hand sympathetically as she creased her brow in frustration at yet another unanswered question before resuming.
Alongside her newfound career, Edwards had informed Jack that Norma had become obsessed with the stories she had unearthed from archives about her sister's disappearance. She had told him how she had even learned what she could about the other families linked similarly to her sister's disappearance. Thus, it hadn't taken her long to discover the multiple headlines about Lord and Lady Fisher who had eventually moved to England to their 'happily ever after.' As a result, Norma had been one of the first to to catch wind of the news surrounding the return of 'Melbourne's own' celebrated socialite to the Antipodes. Given the reporter's well-placed network of sources, she had also been the first reporter to publish the story about the Honourable Phryne Fisher's petition to keep Murdoch Foyle behind bars for as long as possible.
"Edwards claimed that Miss Goodwin had become rather obsessed with you," Jack told her, "although he didn't pay much attention at first. Apparently, she had filled up journals and scrapbooks with newspaper clippings about you even."
Nobody else seemed to be aware of the reporter's personal interest in the high-profiled criminal, except for Martin Edwards, with whom Miss Goodwin had begun to forge a close relationship during her many visits to the jail. Initially, Edwards was only too happy to welcome the advances of the attractive woman and her 'sob story' about her missing sister. He readily accepted her reasons for trying to gain access to the prisoner after her requests to visit Foyle had been repeatedly denied by the prison warden. Unfortunately, even Edwards was unable to break protocol even for this beguiling woman, and he promised to keep her informed about everything to do with the prisoner although there was not much to report at first. He recalled a major argument the two of them had when Norma had become angry about the fact that Phryne had been granted what she could not obtain: visitation rights to Foyle.
"And this was what ignited the fuel of her obsessive vendetta against me," Phryne commented with feeling, as Jack nodded before continuing.
Norma had made use of her personal mistrust and bitterness against the police whom she held responsible for never discovering what happened to her sister. She also knew that there was no love lost between Edwards and the police, and had used her background knowledge of his former time on the New South Wales force to further convince him to help her. Fool that he was, Edwards had been all too happy to make himself look like a hero in his new lady love's eyes whilst simultaneously lining his pockets. After being paid handsomely for selling Foyle's letter to Norma for her first targeted story against the Honourable Phryne Fisher, Edwards readily agreed to begin following and reporting the socialite's comings and goings to the reporter. Used to working unsociable hours, Edwards took a leave of absence and began to watch Wardlow around the clock. Sometimes, he said that Norma would join him with her camera to take photos since she said they helped to sell more newspapers, which meant, more money.
"Did he know anything about the letter that was forged on my personal stationery?"
Jack shook his head. "Edwards swore he had nothing to do with it since he only ever watched and followed you and the household. He claims he never made it close enough to the house to attempt to steal anything. I'm glad that my constables were able to at least prevent that."
Apparently, however, all was not peaceful in paradise. After Norma had published the story with Phryne's supposed letter and then posted it anonymously along with the subsequent letter Edwards had stolen to the police, Edwards had begun to suspect the reporter had been hiding something from him. He had then sought her out to demand why she had been withholding information from him, only to discover that she had gone away. He had grown angry that she had decided to do her own reconnaissance without him, effectively cutting him out of their agreement without discussion.
"No, Phryne, don't start," Jack warned her, stopping his report to again grip her hand that he still held. "Do not let that woman's actions take away from your decision to go to Warburton."
"But, if I hadn't gone, then she wouldn't have been able to photograph us together, Jack," she tried to interrupt.
"Photos that will soon enough be in police custody."
"But the ones she published will always be out there for the whole world to see, Jack."
"Knowing you, Miss Fisher, there will soon be others that will again have the world raising its eyebrows and forgetting I even exist." His mouth quirked into his familiar nudge of a smile as he attempted to make light of the situation. Then, he returned to the matter at hand when he saw her open her mouth again to protest.
"Anyway, we have more than enough information courtesy of Edwards who swears that he had only decided to go along with Norma's entrapment plan tonight for the money. Oh, he also let it slip that he was being funded by another source who seemed to promise him a lot if he could further discredit the force."
"By destroying the constabulary's most honourable officer? I really should have shot him when I had the chance," she growled protectively.
Jack sent her a mixed grateful and exasperated look whilst wisely returning the subject to the mysterious letter.
"I've already called in a favour from someone I know who developed a specialism in handwriting analysis during the war. Given his expertise and credentials, we should have enough back from him any day now to prove that your supposed response letter was definitely forged."
Phryne simply shook her head in wonder at this man's never ending surprises.
"That's brilliant, Jack! I'll notify my solicitors first thing tomorrow."
"I'll also be taking Miss Goodwin's official statement and confession once she's released from hospital in the morning. See if I can find out more about where she got it. Either way, we have more than enough evidence based on tonight's murder attempt alone to keep her in custody for a very long time as we continue to investigate."
Phryne grew pensive as she took in Jack's revelations. Even with more of the holes filling in, she still felt a heaviness deep down inside upon learning more about Norma Goodwin's vindictiveness. Again, she couldn't help feeling the magnitude of the other woman's similarities, and sorrow that she had chosen to throw it all away in the end for her own misdirected sense of vengeance.
"Well, it must indeed be getting late if you've not managed to get another word in edgewise." Jack watched her quietly, finishing his tea before he began to push back his chair. "On that note, I should perhaps be going."
Phryne suddenly found her voice again, gripping his hand even as he rose to his feet so that he ended up pulling her up with him.
"But, there are still so many unanswered questions," she said in frustration.
"'Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer,'" he quoted, pressing her hand in understanding.
"I didn't know you've read Rilke, Jack," she smiled approvingly when she recognized the poet's newly-published letters. "I would have thought him too 'bohemian' for your liking."
"I think you'll be pleased to find I have a liking for a variety of tastes, Miss Fisher," he responded mysteriously as she tucked her hand into his arm and led him out of the room.
"Your coat and jacket won't be dry yet," she remarked unnecessarily when they reached the entryway and he began glancing about. "Are you sure you don't want a nightcap?"
"No, thank you, the tea and cake were more than expected. I'll return for my things first thing tomorrow before I head to the station," he promised. "For now, I'm certain I can manage to wade to the motorcar without them."
"Thank you, Jack." Her voice retained a slight edge of uncertainty as she traced the top buttons of his waistcoat.
"For what, Miss Fisher?"
"For once again going above and beyond what's expected of you." Reaching out to play with his now drooping bow tie, her voice held no coyness or any trace of her usual flirtation when she looked into his eyes. "You always do. And I want you to know how much it means to me because we both know it's not part of your job to always be there for me."
"Perhaps that might not be a requirement of my job, Miss Fisher," he acquiesced, remaining still, yet finding himself suddenly standing even closer to her. "But, it will always certainly be part of who I am."
"And what's that?" She inched infinitesimally closer. "A knight in soggy armour?"
"No, I think I'm more like a mirror, Miss Fisher." His eyes grew serious, although she could still detect a minute twinkle of amusement resulting from her comment.
"To remind me that I'm the 'fairest of them all'?"
"To reflect back what you might sometimes be in danger of forgetting," he replied cryptically as she lifted an eyebrow expectantly. "And to always remind you to be nobody other than yourself."
She remained by the door a few minutes longer, a hand covering her cheek as though to protect the feeling of his parting caress, until the darkness and raging elements hid him from her view.
Author's Notes:
Thank you for staying with me to the finish line of this story that I really enjoyed exploring. Like most things in life, I felt it right to leave Phryne feeling the ambiguity of the extra questions that the end of this mystery brought with it.
It also felt right for Jack to reassure her by quoting one of my favourite passages from Rainer Maria Rilke's 'Letters to a Young Poet' even though these particular letters weren't actually published by Franz Xaver Kappus (the 'young poet') until 1929 after Rilke's death:
"Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books that are now written in a very foreign tongue. Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer."
Don't worry, it's not over quite yet, and just for your patience, I'll be posting the epilogue immediately after this.
Finally, massive hugs to the treasure that is flashofthefuse for taking the time to beta these final chapters for me! You are an angel!