Chapter 13: Starry Night

Mr. Butler breathed a sigh of relief, when a polite knock rang at the door the same evening. He pulled the same open to the familiar face of the Inspector with more enthusiasm than his job description demanded, before taking Jack Robinson's hat and coat, wondering if it was in order to announce someone who technically, if not practically, slept upstairs. The detective took the decision from his hands by stepping into the parlour with not a moment of hesitation.

Inspector Robinson found Phryne in an excited conversation with Elisabeth Macmillan and regret instantly having barged into her home without an announcement. On his appearance she jumped up, her eyes lighting up in something very akin to happiness. Mac threw him a look that told him he was paddling in dangerous waters and the shark had taken notice. He had no time however to feel threatened as Phryne latched onto him.

"Jack, how nice to see you. We do have news."

"So do I, Miss Fisher, so do I."

He decided to sit down before Mac could manage to stare a hole into his forehead and chose the chair furthest away from her reach. Phryne handed him a glass of Whiskey unasked for, and slipped back onto the love seat.

"Do tell, Inspector. What new twists have presented themselves?"

She seemed awfully smug, but he decided to not worry about this and took a gulp of the expensive, amber liquid, before explaining what had happened this afternoon.

"Turns out, someone was trying to blackmail the deceased." Jack said, drawing out the moment. "He did have an affair and there were some rather graphic..." He swallowed another sip, letting the Whiskey burn hot paths down his throat. "...pictures."

Miss Fisher had perked up at this.

"Marie?"

He shook his head slowly.

"That's what I thought at first but the proof lies in the photographs, I'm afraid."

The Inspector pulled the creased paper out of his breast pocket. The way her eyes widened in shock was worth every second of this little game.

"Annabel?"

"I was not yet able to get ahold of Mrs. Sinclair for questioning, but her relationship with Marcel Denier seems rather obvious, I would think."

With a frown, Phryne handed the pictures back to the Inspector.

"We are getting to the point where every male guest in that room has motive to kill the man."

"So it seems, Miss Fisher."

"Any indication on who the blackmailer is?"

"None."

The Inspector slipped the photographs back into his pocket without breaking eye contact with his lover. His look told a silent story of one of the male guests who would have loved to get a chance to strangle Marcel Denier, if he himself hadn't been quite so upright. The noise of a throat being cleared interrupted their quiet conversation.

"Not that I want to spoil your little moment there, but I do think you should share your own news with the Inspector, Phryne." Mac cut in in a warning tone of voice. DI Robinson raised an eyebrow.

Phryne smiled.

"We found our thief."

"Since I didn't make the arrest this afternoon, I assume you lost him again afterwards."

She cocked her head.

"Not exactly, Jack. He is lying upstairs."

The Inspector, who had just decided to take another sip, lived to regret it as he spluttered the expensive drop over the carpet.

"He is what?"

"Well he fell off a rooftop, luckily only onto the next roof down. Broke his leg." Miss Fisher continued, obviously pleased with herself. Jack squeezed his eyes shut, trying to make sense of this.

"Miss Fisher, let me get this straight. You chased a Jewel thief and murder suspect off a roof top and then took him home with you? That is completely insane, even for your standards."

She huffed in mock hurt at this.

"I didn't exactly throw him, he fell all by himself. And I couldn't let him just lie there."

"You could have called the police."

"You were busy. And you can't really arrest the poor kid anyway in his state. He's upstairs, sleeping and tomorrow we will have a word with him."

Jack shared a look with Mac that informed him that she thought her friends action equally insane. The doctor shrugged her shoulder almost invisibly.

"Phryne, he could be Marcel Denier's killer!" He tried again.

"How fitting, he can live with another suspect then." She quipped and got up to refill her glass. "Anyway, he's not going anywhere, his leg is truly and fully broken. And if you are worried, Jack..." She purred, coming so close he could almost feel her; "...you could always stay the night to protect me."

Jack looked up at her with dark eyes, understanding. He pulled himself upright in sudden resolve.

"Can I use your phone, Miss Fisher?"

Obviously thrown, she nodded.

"Of course."

He could feel her eyes follow him as he walked out into the hall and got a line to the station established.

"Collins? I need you to stay at Miss Fisher's residence tonight." He turned to see her still watch him with an unreadable expression on her features. "Yes, all night. She decided to offer a killer residence at her house."

While he didn't need to look at Phryne to sense that she was annoyed, he noticed the look of proud approval he got from Dr. Macmillan. It was enough to bring a tiny smile to his lips.

X

Despite what he'd said, Detective-Inspector Robinson had no intention whatsoever to return to his own house that night. The hours he'd spent there yesterday, tossing and turning through dusty sheets in deafening silence were enough to turn any man into a workaholic. Briefly he wondered what he would do if his move out of the Fisher household should prove to be permanent. He'd gotten used so quickly to a house full of people, his bedroom, Phryne... He cleared his tight throat while pushing through the door to the Station, a greeting to the officer behind the desk on his lips.

He would have to deal, Jack decided. He had been quite good at dealing with things on his own once upon a time. Before Miss Fisher had swept through his door, turning everything upside down. With a sigh he set his hat down. There was a pile of files waiting for him on his desk. He flicked the first one open before even taking off his coat. So Collins had been on the phone to the West and they had been happy to share. Generally not a good sign for the probability of solving a case. The Inspector sat down nevertheless, without tearing his eyes from the pages. He had all night, after all.

X

Hugh looked up from his place on a chair in front of one of the guest rooms when he heard familiar steps draw closer. Dorothy extended a steaming cup towards him, complete with saucer.

"I brought you some cacao." She said rather needlessly, as the smell was already attacking his nostrils, making his stomach squirm.

"Thanks, Dottie." He smiled at his sweetheart, taking the cup from her caring hands.

"You know, I don't think its necessary that you sit here all night, Hugh." He heard her say while he burned his lips on the hot liquid, silently damning his greed. "Mr. Binley's got a broken leg, he would be hard pressed to get to the door, leave alone harm anyone."

"The Inspector has asked me to guard him and that's what I'll do. I would never forgive myself if he escapes and hurts you or Miss Fisher or anyone else."

He locked gaze with her and Dorothy Williams was touched by what she could see in his big eyes.

"You know I wasn't in danger, Hugh, don't you?"

"You were on a factory rooftop with a killer, Dottie. That's hardly what I'd call a safe place."

"Ryan is not a killer. He's a poor kid who went down the wrong path." She huffed in sudden annoyance. "Miss Fisher had a gun and he didn't. And after all he was the only one who got hurt. "

To her surprise, Hugh took her hand and kissed it gently.

"Just promise me you will be careful?"

Dottie could do nothing but nod, swallowing in her suddenly dry throat. A hungry stomach complained loudly into the touched silence.

"I think, Hugh Collins, if you truly insist on sitting here to guard someone who cannot walk and is all over harmless, I better make you a sandwich."

The Constable smiled after her as she vanished down the dark stairs. He was a very lucky man indeed.

X

"Good morning, Jack."

Detective-Inspector Robinson opened his blurry eyes and lifted his head with some effort, from the hard wood of his desk. A piece of paper took the opportunity to stay stuck to his cheek in a humorous fashion only to flutter away when he was half upright. Miss Fisher stepped in front of his desk in a bright red coat and a better mood than should be allowed at this time of day.

"I am glad you are getting some well deserved sleep, Inspector. However, I do believe you wanted to ask Mr. Binley some questions."

Jack licked his dry lips and cursed the spell of sleep that had overwhelmed him some time near the dawn.

"Good morning, Miss Fisher." He finally brought out, sounding hoarse. Phryne realised that her heart was fluttering in her chest. She did adore Jack's wake-up voice and the look in his eyes, still half attached to his dream world. God, she missed waking up beside him. Or on him, under him... A smile flitted over her lips, that was missed completely by the yawning Detective. The Inspector had leaned back in his chair, trying to bind his tie he had loosened some time after midnight. His fingers however didn't seem to have arrived in the land of the living with the rest of his body. Phryne watched his futile attempts with fond amusement before she felt compelled to step in.

"Allow me."

Jack let his hands drop into his lap and waited, eyes half closed, for her competent fingers. He knew he had once been able to fasten his own clothes. He had slept in his own bed and solved his own cases. In a time before Miss Fisher. The closer he let her, the less he seemed to be able to tear himself away. Like he had taken a taste of the forbidden fruit and now he was addicted. He was in way over his head and if nothing else he had proven that to both of them with his obvious display of desperate passion the other night. Phryne had finished and pulled her fingers away slower than was probably needed. He opened his eyes; she was still standing quite close and he could feel her breath weave through his dishevelled hair.

"Phryne, about the other night, I..."

A soft finger to his lips stopped him.

"We both lost our heads, Jack. It happens."

She leaned forward and kissed him on the forehead with the gentlest of gestures. He nodded, slowly. Letting this sink in. Phryne used the time to swing herself onto the edge of his desk.

"And now Inspector, I propose you have a cup of coffee and rub that lipstick of your face, we have a thief to question."

A memory came floating back to Jack, something that had presented itself to him sometime early in the morning in the haze of two nights of no sleep. In sudden movement he grabbed the folder lying on top of the pile and flipped through it, followed by the interested eyes of Miss Fisher. Finally he seemed to have found what he was looking for.

"Maybe more than one, Miss Fisher."