Chapter 12: Moonflower

When Inspector Robinson parked the car in front of Wombat Hall, he wasn't sure if he had the will-power to climb out. A part of him wanted to run as fast as he could back to Melbourne, retreat to their rooftop hideaway and forget that they had ever come. But there were people here he couldn't, wouldn't disappoint. There was Iris of course, Uncle Walter, Olivia, Will, Lizzy... amongst others. And he knew that he didn't want to hurt any of them. Silently retreating after the heated argument with his father had been one thing, but ditching them blatantly, after they had been nothing but nice and welcoming to himself and Phryne, would be simply cowardice. Jack Robinson had many flaws, but he wasn't a coward! He slammed the car door shut with some resolve and grabbed for Phryne's hand, laying it onto his arm while revelling in the warmth of her fingers. She was also someone he did not want to hurt and something told him without doubt, that she longed for the approval of his family. She deserved to be presented proudly by him as his companion, his lover, and his future wife. He would not hide her away, just because his father was being a prejudiced pillock. Laughter swept towards them, when they stepped through the entrance, their heads held high,. Jane was amusing the assembled people with a story of travelling Scotland and while Aunt Prudence looked slightly embarrassed about her thoughts on kilts, Aunt Olivia found the anecdote highly amusing. Even Fred, the most boring man on the planet was in a fit of laughter. His wife was nowhere to be seen and quite a few of the other people were missing as well. The Inspector spotted his father sitting in a corner, absorbed in a book. Of course the old grump would not give Jane the slightest chance. Had Jack looked a little closer, he might have noticed the ghost of a smile on John Robinson's lips or that the old man hadn't turned a page in more than ten minutes. But as it stood, Jack was preoccupied with his anger and a thought that suddenly invaded his brain.

"I'll just have another look at our crime-scene," he whispered into Phryne's ear. "I won't be a minute." Before she had recovered from her surprise or made up her mind if she wanted to hound him upstairs or rather listen to her foster daughter's adventures, he was already gone. On the first floor greeted him a dim light shining down the corridor. To his utter astonishment it seemed to come from Miss Spencer's office.

The Inspector pushed the door open, wishing once again, his pistol wasn't locked up at the City South Police Station. A man stood there, his back turned to him, rummaging through some paperwork. Jack cleared his throat loudly. The man turned, looking a whole lot less caught in the act than he should have, sneaking around in a crime scene.

"Good evening," Jack Robinson said pleasantly. "May I ask, what you are doing in here?"

Now the man looked confused.

"I was missing some bills and thought, Miss Spencer might have them archived somewhere. But, who are you?"

"I am Detective-Inspector Robinson," Jack smiled grimly, "and I am also the one asking the questions."

He stepped into the room, slapping the folder shut the man had been searching in. He damned his own forgetfulness. The secret passage had sidetracked him long enough to miss the tiny little detail of locking the office door behind them. Of course, he hadn't actually thought anyone would rummage straight through the assembled paperwork. Besides that, he doubted anything of interest could be found that he or Phryne wouldn't have spotted already. But the man looked more confused than worried at this stage.

"So, lets start with who you are and how you knew Miss Spencer." Jack Robinson said calmly, taking out his note book.

"May I ask, what's going on?"

The "no", was lying on Jack's tongue like lead. Something about this man didn't quite rub him the right way. But of course, he had a point.

"Miss Spencer was murdered this morning," the Inspector stated calmly. The still nameless man appeared shocked and sank onto the chair in front of the desk.

"Murdered?"

"Murdered, right here."

Jack pulled a grimace without looking up, as the man jumped back to his feet, trying to escape the crime-scene as fast as possible. But the Inspector stood in the door, blocking him from the hallway.

"So, your name please."

"Crossley. Charles Crossley. I am Mr. Cox-Stafford's right hand, so to say, overseeing the business when he is occupied."

Jack nodded.

"Since my uncle was occupied today, how can it be, that we haven't met yet?"

"I had a business meeting in Ballarat this morning. Some old clients of ours that I wanted to see personally. There are some problems with the payment of the latest bill. Which was why I was trying to find the paperwork." He made an extensive gesture to the now chaotic desk of the late Miss Spencer.

"I have just gotten back an hour ago and thought, I'd look for it before dinner. I had no idea, that..."

He trailed off.

Jack had scribbled in his note book, ignoring the big gestures of the man. Crossley was a tall man, perfectly combed hair, a well cut suit. He was the impersonation of a trustworthy man and very obviously shaken by the assistant's death. Inspector Robinson was deeply suspicious.

"Do you live on the premises, Mr. Crossley?"

"No, I live in town, with my family. Why is that of any matter, Inspector?" he asked, after a small pause.

"Oh, just routine. Have you removed anything from this office?"

The man shook his head.

"I hadn't found anything of interest yet."

"Good," Jack said, letting the man past and switching off the light, before pulling the door shut firmly and locking it. "This office is not be touched."

Mr. Crossley agreed, before watching the policeman stride down the stairs. After a moment of hesitance, he walked back into his own office, slamming the door shut behind him.

X

Nobody was asleep. It wasn't so much the creaking of the stairs, the light sneaking through door cracks that convinced Phryne of this, as that she could feel them. They were all occupied with their own thoughts, their own heartaches. She closed the window, wondering what to do. Jack Robinson had gone for some fresh air an hour and a half ago and not returned yet. The dinner had been awkward at best. Grinding might have been a better word.

Somehow, the two John Robinsons had ended up across from each other at the table. Miss Fisher suspected that that had been a well-meant effort by Mrs. Cox-Stafford to encourage a dialogue. It had ended with John Robinson trying to attempt an awkward conversation with his table partner Laura, who had had trouble hiding her astonishment at the amount of attention paid to her and Jack moving his food around his plate in silence, while they both avoided looking at each other. It hadn't been the only strange occurrence. Phryne had noticed with some confusion that Mac had suddenly removed herself to the opposite end of the table from Hazel, squeezing between Aunt Prudence and Esmeralda Cox-Stafford, who had talked about olden times most of the night past her, while the doctor seemed occupied with her food. All while Hazel's eyes had watched her somewhere between hurt and confusion, which Mac had seemed to miss completely. Phryne couldn't help but wonder what had happened between them that deemed her friends retreat necessary. Miss Fisher herself had resolved to talk to her left table partner, after she had grown tired of watching Jack pout at his father and had started a meaningless but rather animated chat with Samuel Cox-Stafford. After a while she had noticed that the young man was flirting rather heavily with her, which was as flattering as it was amusing. Jack hadn't paid enough attention to care, but his cousin Iris had shot them looks that could have killed on the spot.

The master of the house had felt obligated to fill the awkward silence with a round of jokes that drew uneasy laughter that had finally prompted Baby Fred to wake up and scream his lungs out. This had been the point John Robinson senior had retired to his guest room, claiming a headache. As much as she hated the way he treated his son, Phryne couldn't blame him for retreating. She herself had breathed a sigh of relief, when they had finally gotten on their way home. But despite there being only her family around, the tension was still so thick that it could have been cut with a knife. It didn't help that Mr. Butler seemed rather out of it as well. Dot had cried again about a small tear in her dress that she could probably fix with her eyes closed. Jane seemed to be shaken by the cracks in the Robinson clan that she felt partly responsible for. Aunt P. was pouting assumingly because nobody was really interested in the history lessons she had to share and Mac had been utterly and uncharacteristically silent all night. Miss Fisher wasn't certain about whom to begin worrying first. Torn, she stood in the hallway, barefoot with her morning gown wrapped over a thin nightdress, wondering which door to knock on. The decision was taken from her when Dot's door opened and its occupant emerged, with a broad smile on her face that made room for surprise, when she saw her employer.

"Miss? Is anything the matter?"

"Nothing, Dot. Are you feeling alright?" Miss Fisher asked suspiciously.

"Of course, I just seem to be unable to sleep in a strange bed so I was getting up to make some cocoa. Would you like some?"

Miss Fisher shook her head slowly, wondering if there had been any hallucinogenic plants in the tea tonight. She managed a smile.

"Thank you, Dot. But I fear it is too warm for cocoa. Could you please offer Aunt Prudence some though?" she asked on afterthought.

"Of course, Miss."

Phryne breathed slowly. A little bit of attention would fix her aunt, she was quite sure of it. Two down, four to go. In sudden resolve, she knocked against Mac's door. But there was only silence to be heard. The detective pushed down the handle and with a soft, charismatic squeak the door swung open, presenting an unslept in bed to her. The rest of the room was decidedly empty, save the chaotic attempts of unpacking that Mac had never finished. Phryne pulled the door shut. So it wasn't only Jack, who had fled the house to sort his thoughts. Just as well. Maybe they ran into each other in the darkness and managed to beat some sense into their hard heads in the progress. The detective couldn't help but smile at the picture, while she made her way to Jane's room. The girl was lying on her stomach absorbed in a book, when her foster mother approached and looked up with some curiosity. Phryne sank onto the edge of her bed and wondered how to start.

"Are you alright?" Jane asked, surprising her somewhat.

"I'm fine."

A pair of clever blue eyes fixed on her, calling her a liar. Jane scrambled to a sitting position, shutting her book.

"You are worried about Jack and his father, aren't you?" she asked.

"Of course, I am," Miss Fisher admitted, smiling despite herself.

"So, why aren't you out there looking for him?" her daughter asked.

"Because I am also worried about you."

Jane seemed to think about this for a long moment.

"You know," she finally said conversationally, "I've never had this much family before. Actually, most of my life I didn't have any family, besides my mother. And then I had you and Dot and Mr. Butler and now I have more family than I can count. And they all seem to argue with each other. It's strange."

"That's how families work," Phryne smiled weakly.

"But you know what's the strangest thing about it all?" Jane asked grinning. "They still seem to love each other. In a weird, funny sort of way."

Miss Fisher let her words echo through her heart. She knew what Jane meant. She just wasn't sure, if she could explain it to the Inspector.

"I think I better go talk to Jack," she finally stated thoughtfully.

"You better," her daughter said, picking up her book again. Phryne rose, but turned to the girl, who had already returned her attention to the pages.

"Jane?"

A small murmur was the only answer.

"It's good to have you back. I missed you."

She kissed the girl on her hair before she could protest and under Jane's warm smile retreated back into the hall. There she took a deep breath. Right. She had to find Inspector Robinson. And then she had to find a way to beat some sense into him.

X

Gravel crunched under Mac's shoes. Some time had gone by since she had had an idea where she was. It was a dark night, with a skinny sickle of a moon hanging in the sky more for decoration , than for actual light. Instead it let the millions of stars take centre-stage above her head. It was a breathtaking view, but Mac couldn't find any calmness in it. Her heart was racing and she wasn't sure if this was caused by the speed with which her feet flew over the small path underneath them or by the thoughts invading her brain violently. There was a yearning she hadn't felt in so long that she had almost forgotten about it. Yet here it was, strong and dark, consuming her from the inside. A pair of green eyes with golden sprinkles haunted her.

Sometime in the duration of this evening Mac had realised, that she needed to stay as far away from Hazel Morgan as possible. She would talk with Phryne in the morning, explain to her friend that she needed to get back to Melbourne. The question remained if she should share the truth with her about the fact that she was falling head over heels for a woman who was likely to find her attentions disgusting, once she understood their meaning.

"Are you in love with her?" Hazel's voice echoed in her ears. Alright, so maybe Miss Morgan was not as appalled as most people by the doctor feeling drawn to her own gender, rather than to the 'proper' one. Yet, the very idea... Mac's cheeks were glowing, despite the cool night breeze. She could not allow herself to hope and have her heart broken all over again. It had been hard enough getting over Daisy's death and she had been quite resolved to stay alone. And now Jack's cousin came and shook up her deepest desires. It made no sense, but she just couldn't help it.

Mac was so absorbed in the frantic struggle with her emotions, that she didn't see the figure in the dark until she had almost reached her. Her heart hammered in her chest, when she recognised who it was. Hazel looked as confused as herself and just as sleepless. In the shadow of the night, the two women stopped right in front of each other, at a distance that would probably have been deemed inappropriate in anything but lovers.

Neither of them said a word. Mac wasn't sure, she could have spoken, if she'd tried. There was no air left in her lungs. But their eyes did plenty of talking. After a long moment of breathless, intimate silence, two slim, warm hands reached out to frame Mac's face. Elisabeth wondered dimly if it was at all possible to faint of longing, when Hazel's palms stroked her face with so much tenderness that she wanted to weep and laugh at the same time. When she allowed herself to open her lashes again, a pair of green eyes looked at her from close distance with so many questions in them, that Mac wasn't sure she would be ever able to answer all of them. But she managed a tiny smile, while she reached out her own fingers, running her thumb over Hazel's cheek. Possibly she imagined it, but there seemed to be tears glittering in the other woman's eyes. Mac closed the last of their distance, while the stars shone on curiously and when she brought her mouth to her lover's lips the earth stopped turning.