Good evening, my beloved readers. I hope you are still enjoying this fic, because there is plenty more to come. ;) As I am currently thinking that this is likely going to be the last part of the Phryniverse, I am just letting it unfold to any lengths it wants to be. If you should however have any thoughts on a sequel, let me know what's on your mind. :)

Chapter 23: Lemon Tree

Dot had been staring into the distance so long, that the doctor was starting to get worried.

"But...how?" the girl finally asked.

Mac rolled her eyes.

"I am sure, if you still don't know that, Miss Fisher has a mountain of educational reading material at hand," she quipped, closing her bag.

Jane laughed at this, forgetting to play her card. Aunt Prudence looked rather unpleased with the idea of what her niece kept in her library.

"Get over it girl, we all had to get through this at some point," she called out, then considered their company. "Well, maybe not all of us, but most. It's perfectly natural."

Dorothy rubbed both hands over her face, and then suddenly a beaming smile spread over her face.

"I'm having a baby?"

"So it looks," Mac concluded.

"I'm having a baby!" Dot said, half laughing, half crying, throwing herself around the doctors neck, rendering her stunned for a moment, before she squeezed back. While Aunt P shook her head in the background at the show of excitement, Jane stood to receive her own hug.

"I'm having a baby, Jane," Dot whispered with tears in her eyes.

"So I heard," Jane quipped, wrapping her arms around her friend tightly.

"I need to tell Hugh, I need to... call him... or better yet..."

The three other women watched on in amusement, as Mrs. Collins started to pace the room, making plans on how to best tell her husband the news.

X

When the detectives returned to the garden, Sergeant Otterson had arrived. He was a rather heavy-built man of middle age who was currently chatting animatedly with someone he knew from old times.

"I'm quite certain, I asked you to stay out of this," Jack told his father, after briefly greeting his fellow officer.

"And I am quite certain I do not take orders from my son," John answered him calmly.

"In this instance I am not your son and as far as I am aware, I outrank you as a police officer, even if I do not take into consideration your retirement. Please leave."

John Robinson looked like his son had slapped him, but he stayed stubbornly glued to the spot, glaring at him. Miss Fisher felt it was time to intrude, before they strangled each other. She squeezed past Jack, making sure her hand brushed his in a comforting, calming gesture, without turning into an open show of affection in front of two people he would hate to see it and addressed the third policeman.

"Sergeant Otterson, I assume. So lovely to meet you. How are the ducks?"

"Ducks?" the man asked, obviously confused by the whole situation. "Oh, the ducks! They are perfectly fine, thank you, Miss..."

"Fisher." They shook hands, ignoring the two Robinson's who were still involved in a staring match.

"I happen to be a private detective and was also one of the first to arrive at the body, so Inspector Robinson asked me for my help," she fibbed, beaming. "In fact, I arrived with Mr. Robinson here, who is just as valuable a witness as me," she continued more firmly, glancing at Jack. He took the hint and his features retreated from the war path.

"Can we get this scanned for prints?" the Inspector asked, handing the silver cigarette case to his fellow officer. "I will send the body down to Melbourne, even though I doubt the coroner will find anything unexpected."

"With all due respect, Sir, Doctor Wesley is perfectly capable," the Sergeant said stiffly. Jack looked at the older man, a country police officer, who had probably not seen much more than break-ins and brawls for most of his working life. He had a perfectly friendly, yet professional face and the Inspector realised that he had no right to insult him, just because he was acquainted with his father.

"Very well, I will put it into your hands to organise a post-mortem, Sergeant," he decided after a moment of silence. "And also to take down the statement of the witnesses."

Jack glanced at his father briefly.

"I will head over to Hepburn Springs to inform the next-of-kin and then come see you at the station to discuss further proceedings. Miss Fisher?"

Phryne threw a quick look at John Robinson, who looked deflated and gave him a tiny wink. She hoped, the elder man would understand the message.

X

Mr. Butler was busy packing his Mistresses's belongings into a small suitcase, when there was a knock to the door.

"Here you are", Riya said smiling. "Maria said, you were packing to return to the Villa."

"Miss Fisher doesn't want to intrude on the Cox-Stafford's privacy any longer than necessary," Tobias Butler replied. "Not that I think, there is much privacy to be had in a family as big as theirs."

"Most likely not," Mrs. Santi sighed, sitting down and watching her lover fold a pair of pants with practised fingers.

"Tobias, I don't want to appear impatient, but the truth is that I am."

The butler smiled at the open confession.

"I know that this is not easy for you to decide and that pressure will not help you. But I need to know."

Mr. Butler took the step towards her, leaning over and to Riya's relief, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

"I would be lying if I said I had come to a firm conclusion yet," he admitted, returning to his work. "But the prospect of travelling with you seems very tempting indeed."

"So you are coming?" Riya asked, holding her breath.

"At present, I am leaning strongly towards it," he admitted, without looking up from his task. When he turned, he spotted tears of joy glittering in his lover's eyes. He couldn't stop himself from pulling her into an embrace and kissing her properly while completely forgetting his position.

X

"Samuel?"

"And Fred!" Phryne reminded her Inspector. She had taken the chance to brief him of all the events he had missed in his battle with John.

"It's hard to tell, who the letter was addressed to, but from their conversation Miss Spencer was either the author or knew who it was. We should be able to find examples of her hand in the office."

Jack's hands gripped the steering wheel harder. The prospect of his family being involved in a murder did not sit well with him, despite the victim having been found in their garden.

"So you believe one of them had an affair with the deceased?" he asked, thinking of Laura.

"Or possibly both," Miss Fisher pointed out.

"Damn," the Inspector cursed to her surprise. "I did see Fred hide a letter yesterday. I should have asked about it."

"Well at least Mac saw it happen and we could salvage some of the treasure," Miss Fisher smiled, looking out the window. She spotted a familiar blonde head walking along the main road, beside a young woman, who was laughing.

"Is that your cousin over there?" she asked. Jack woke long enough from his dark musing about Laura's marriage to spot him too.

"Yes, that's Samuel. The lady is Christine Alister, daughter of a farmer Uncle Walter is doing business with. I hope she is smart enough to not be taken in by him."

"Who says, she isn't?" Phryne asked, her eyes still glued to the young couple.

"Christine is one of the few women to ever resist my cousin. He doesn't appreciate it," Jack laughed, turning around a corner and rendering the young people out of sight.

Miss Fisher was still pondering this, when they turned into the courtyard of the Barton's winery. Miss Rucci was working outside, re-potting a small lemon tree, when they approached.

"Good morning, Inspector, Miss," she wiped a strand of hair out of her forehead with a muddy hand.

"I'm sorry, but you are unlucky again. Mrs. Barton is not home. Some business appointment."

"We are also looking for her husband," the Inspector said.

The elderly woman pulled herself to her feet. "I fear, Mr. Barton is still in Sydney. He is not due to return till tomorrow morning."

The detectives locked eyes.

"I would like some details as to his business there, Miss Rucci."

She looked confused for a moment, but desperate to help them.

"I'm afraid, I don't know much about his appointments there, but according to Abigail he stayed behind to speak to Lord and Lady Gregories. She said, he was hoping to be invited to a hunt and make business acquaintances this way."

"And she returned without her husband?" Phryne asked.

"As I mentioned, she had an important appointment this morning. At Wombat Hall, I believe."

She looked in astonishment at the two detectives, who stared at her with their jaws dropped.

"Miss Rucci, do the sisters have a resemblance at all?" Jack enquired after a long moment of speechless silence. She looked at him in confusion before answering.

"Of course, they do! They are twins."

X

With some anger, Mr. Robinson threw his hat onto his guest bed and sank onto a chair. He just couldn't get in. He was trying, but Jack was just spitting in his face. Outrank him. The little brat! The sober part of him reminded him that his son was right. Jack would have outranked him in a murder investigation, even if John had been an active police officer. His heart was fluttering uncomfortable in his chest and the man pulled a jug of water towards him, noting as he did, the sound of crumpling paper underneath where he sat. John pulled the creased envelope from his seat with some effort. He had completely forgotten about this. But then surely he could not be asked to remember everything, when there was a murder happening right under his nose and his son treating him like a leper. He would not let Jack get away with just kicking him out of the investigation. John Robinson poured himself a glass of water, slapping down the envelope covered in a woman's hand writing with some vigour. No, he would help his son, if he wanted him to or not.

X

"That's Abigail," the old lady said calmly, but the tone of her voice gave her grief away. Nodding, the Inspector pulled the sheet back over the pale face.

"Are you sure?" Miss Fisher asked.

"I can tell my girls apart," Miss Rucci insisted, "and this is Abigail."

"Thank you, Ma'am."

Jack brought the woman to the door of the police station and sent a Constable to drive the lady home. Then he returned to Miss Fisher, who had found herself a chair and was currently chewing on her lip.

"It looks like we were holding the wrong end of the stick, Inspector," she pointed out, throwingthe files of a poor police officer's desk into chaos. He nodded, sitting down on the edge of the table.

"It appears at the moment, like both sisters were murdered. In the same dress, on the grounds of Wombat Hall."

"Obviously someone is trying to make a point," Phryne pondered.

"He could have made it a little clearer," Jack sighed. "And we are still missing Miss Spencer's body."

Sergeant Otterson entered the room.

"Sir, I have just gotten off the phone with Sydney and there is indeed a Lord Gregories listed in their phone register. I have brought you the details, I assumed you wanted to do this yourself."

"Thank you, Sergeant. Have we got any results on the cigarette case yet?"

"No prints, Sir. Not a single one."

Jack sighed and the officer retreated.

"So the case was planted," he stated, when the door has closed. "It seems unlikely that someone would accidentally lose something that he has taken the trouble to remove the prints from."

"So it would seem," Phryne said calmly, taking the card from his fingers. Jack watched her as she picked up the phone and got a connection established.

"This is Miss Phryne Fisher speaking. Yes, I would like to speak to the Lady of the house. Of course, I'll wait."

Jack rolled his eyes, while she looked at him smiling mischievously.

"Yes, hello Chloe, Phryne Fisher here. Yes, something very curious has occurred today. You're name came up a murder investigation and I just had to call. Yes, I will tell you the details later, but please just answer me one question first. Is a Mr. Joseph Barton your guest at this time? Yes, a terrible thing actually, but I assume, the local police will take care of telling him. They usually don't like me interfering into their business."

She glanced up at the Inspector with a cheeky smirk on her lips.

"Not that it stops me," she laughed. "Yes, listen Chloe, I do have to go. Thank you for your help."

She rang off.

"Our husband is indeed in Sydney."

Jack had crossed his arms over his chest, giving her a half smile.

"You could have mentioned, your friendship with Lady Gregories."

"Didn't I? Oh, I'm so sorry, Jack," she stated in a voice that told him clearly that she wasn't in the slightest and continued. "Anyway, we are merely acquainted. The Gregories have a second estate near Melbourne and it is rather hard to avoid each other at every party. I actually did participate in the annual hunt last year that Mr. Barton seems so desperate to join."

"You went to a hunt, Miss Fisher?"

The Inspector's eyebrows rose.

"I did. And no, I did not shoot anything – or anyone for that matter," Phryne smiled, getting to her feet. "Rather boring business actually, but you will find out soon enough."

She reached out to fix his tie that had a slight nick in the wrong place. Jack stared at her.

"We are invited, Jack. And as my husband, you will have to join and pretend to enjoy yourself."

The Inspector gulped.

"You are kidding?"

A broad smile snuck around her lips upon seeing the distraught expression on his face.

"Yes, I am. I hate hunts and I have no intention of ever joining this one again."

He sighed a breath of relief, but her hands lingered on his tie and her voice became serious.

"But Jack, we can't avoid all and every social occasion."

He grabbed her hand, holding it between his.

"Phryne, when you take me as your husband I will live up to all expectations," he promised, his dark eyes sincere. "I will even suffer your parties," he smiled on afterthought.

"And my money?" she asked, using his tie to pull him towards her.

"For richer and for poorer," he whispered enthralled in her glittering eyes.

"You know, whoever came up with this probably did not anticipate the richer part to be the issue," Phryne's red lips replied from close proximity. Jack could feel her breath ghost over his cheek, as his eyes fell shut, his heart pounding. The sound of someone clearing their throat sobered him. He turned to see his father stand in the door frame.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but I came to make my statement," he said. "And see if I can be of any help."

Jack opened his mouth to say something cutting, when Miss Fisher cut him off.

"That is very helpful of you. Please take a seat and I'll fill you in."

Wordlessly Jack stared at his fiancée, wondering what had happened that had changed the relationship between her and his father so much. He felt left out, when he watched her babble on about the case. By rights, he knew he should have stopped her. It was enough of a stretch to let her get involved in the investigation. His father was as much of a civilian as Phryne. But there was actually something strangely touching about seeing them talk, he realised. It was something he deep down wished so much for that it hurt.

John Robinson seemed to have forgotten his hatred for his future daughter-in-law and Phryne was openly friendly to the old man. Maybe it was just a mask, something that occurred in the spur of the moment, but he ached for his father to accept the woman by his side, it occured to him in sudden livid clarity. Jack felt his throat tighten and tears pricking at the back of his eyes. This was something he had not expected, fake or real. His tie was suddenly suffocating him.

"Excuse me. I will be back in a minute."

He couldn't leave fast enough and missed two worried pairs of eyes following him.

"Too much?" John asked, after a pause. Phryne shook her head.

"I think, you are doing just fine."

"You know, Miss Fisher, I hate the idea of you being responsible for my reconciliation with Jack. If he comes around, that is."

"He will. And you will be eternally in my debt," she smirked. John sighed, rubbing his face with both hands.

"I doubt that I have anything that you couldn't buy yourself, Miss Fisher."

She tore her eyes from the door, that Jack had vanished through to look at him.

"You have a son," she said calmly. "Now, let's talk about the case."

The son in question was standing outside, leaning in the shadow of an alleyway and wiping the tears from his eyes. He wasn't even sure, why he was crying, but the sight of Phryne and John together had stirred up some almost forgotten feelings deep inside of him.

The Inspector caught a glimpse of a familiar man wander by, who he recognised as his Uncle making a belated visit to the newspaper agent. Trying to hide, Jack ducked deeper into the alley. The murder in his garden had probably spoilt Walter's appetite for the morning paper but old habits die hard.

Walter stopped suddenly, looking at a man who was wandering past him in the other direction. Jack was already running before his head had caught up.

"You little bastard, how could you do this?" he heard his Uncle's voice boom, as he grabbed Charles Crossley by the neck, even though the man was half a head taller than him. Crossley was too surprised to react, but Jack feared for his Uncle when his employee regained his bearings. Walter wasn't 20 anymore, even though rage might make him strong.

"That's enough!" the Inspector yelled, when Uncle Walter lifted his fist, arriving just in time to rip the two men apart. "Enough," he panted, althought neither man made any effort to escape his grasp.

"Mr. Crossley, if you accompany me to the station, we can talk about it there. I will see you tonight, Uncle Walter!" he stated firmly, pulling his suspect with himself and throwing a stern look backwards. Angry muttering followed them for a few feet, but then Walter Cox-Stafford turned and entered the news agency. There was little that could keep him from getting his paper.