I apologize for the late update (especially to the person torturing her refresh button) but the day was a rough one. Enjoy :)

Chapter 24: Camomile

Two pairs of eyes looked up, when the men walked into the station. Jack couldn't disguise his surprise at seeing Phryne and his father bent harmoniously over the letter. It was still shocking and unreal, he found, wondering if he might wake up any minute.

The Inspector shook himself out of it and slipped behind an empty desk, that he dimly remembered to belong to the Sergeant and gestured Charles Crossley to sit. The man obliged only hesitantly.

"I don't know what came over Mr. Cox-Stafford," he stammered, before Jack could ask a question. "He just attacked me."

"Possibly the fact that you have been stealing from him?" Miss Fisher said, stepping beside the desk.

The suspect jumped to his feet. "Who says such a thing?"

"Sit down, please," Inspector Robinson commanded calmly. Crossley's eye darted from him to Miss Fisher. Then he fell back onto the hard wooden chair. Jack picked up a pencil, from the corner of his eye watching Phryne sit down at the edge of the table while John stayed in the background and silent. Jack took a deep breath, trying to forget his father's presence. He wasn't a son right now, he was Detective-Inspector Robinson questioning a murder suspect.

"Mr. Crossley, we have found some forged numbers in the accounts of Mr. Cox-Stafford's business. Do you know anything about this?"

"Of course not!"

Jack Robinson found himself being scrutinised by a stare he knew all too well. Bad liars had the tendency to lock their eyes with you, hoping to be considered honest. He smiled.

"I don't believe you, Mr. Crossley."

The man turned an angry shade of red, looking for any help, but found only Miss Fisher who smiled dangerously.

"You are a terrible liar, I must say."

Crossley visibly deflated and lifted his hands in surrender.

"Alright, alright. I manipulated some bills, nothing major, just a few pounds here and there. I didn't think the Cox-Stafford's would miss them."

"And it didn't occur to you, that it might still be wrong?" Jack asked coldly.

"My wife and I have had trouble making ends meet, since we sent our boy away to boarding school," Crossley admitted quietly.

"Miss Spencer found out, didn't she?"

The man wrung his hands in front of his chest in a desperate gesture, that was almost comical.

"She threatened to tell the Cox-Stafford's."

"So you killed her?" the Inspector asked, dropping his pen.

"What? No!" Crossley cried, outraged.

Searching for help again, he looked up to both detectives in turn, neither of whom seemed inclined to believe him.

"I will admit that I wasn't happy. We argued. But she did not go through with telling him, so I just dropped the subject."

"A very likely story, Mr. Crossley," Miss Fisher stated sarcastically.

"You can go," Jack said, to her surprise. Stiffly, the man stood, taking his leave, when the Inspector called him back. "One second please. Would you please remove your shoe for me."

Charles Crossley stared at him in confusion, then bent down to take off his leather shoe and handed it over. Jack's nose wrinkled in disgust as he accepted the piece of leather and sniffed briefly, before sticking his hand inside.

"Thank you."

He handed the shoe back, half-consciously wiping his hand onto his pants leg.

"I am quite sure that we will talk again, Mr. Crossley but for now you are free to go."

Grateful for the temporary reprieve, the man fled before the Inspector could come up with any other strange requests.

Silence settled over the office, while Jack returned behind his desk.

"So, what was that all about?" John asked. His son's head flew up. He had been so successful in blocking his father's presence out that he was now shocked to discover him still there.

"You were thinking of the shadow in the storm, weren't you?" Phryne asked quietly.

"His shoes are still wet," Jack explained to no one in particular. "So he was probably the mystery man, Mac spotted. I would assume trying to get rid of evidence of his fraud. But I don't think he is our killer. He was sincerely shocked at Miss Spencer's death and scrambled to hide his tracks. If he had planned her demise he would surely have removed the evidence beforehand."

"He also doesn't have any reason to kill both sisters and stage it as some strange form of mystery," Phryne concluded.

"That's all great," John threw in. "But who did kill this Miss Spencer and her sister?"

"We will let you know, as soon as we found out," Jack said, pulling himself to his feet."Good day, father." And with that, he walked out the door into the now bright sunshine of the afternoon. Phryne threw her future father-in-law a quick glance, almost feeling sorry for the old man who was visibly deflated by Jack's coldness. She flashed him an encouraging smile, before hurrying after her fiancé. Stubbornness truly ran in the family.

X

"Dear God," Fred Simmens-Cox-Stafford sighed, rubbing his palms over his face. When he looked up, a tumbler of Whisky had appeared in his view, held by a friendly hand. He accepted it after a second of hesitation. Alcohol in the early afternoon did seem a little over the top, but then a murder probably warranted such measures.

"Did you know her well?" Rupert Walker asked, sitting down in another armchair. Fred flinched almost invisibly.

"No, not well at all. She had only been here for a few months I believe and we just saw her on the occasional visit."

Rupert noticed the beads of sweat glittering on Fred's forehead, but didn't comment. Instead he took a sip from his own tumbler.

"Tragic, such a young life," he stated calmly. "And so brutal too."

Fred hummed agreement, without looking up from blindly staring at the Persian covering the floor of the library.

"I wonder though, what this first so-called murder was all about. Clearly, she didn't die, but it looked very much like it. And now she reappears, just to die again?"

"I am quite certain, she is dead now." Rupert pointed out, a half-smile on his lips. "Lucky that we had not one but two detectives in the house, they will figure it out."

"Yes, yes, of course," Fred mumbled, pouring the amber liquid down his throat, without much ceremony. He was sweating profusely now and Rupert wondered briefly, if there were more secrets hidden in his wife's family, than he had ever given them credit for.

X

Miss Fisher had her eyes closed while falling into the smell of lavender. The villa was blessedly silent, with only her and Jack present; the rest of the cavalry obviously still hadn't left Wombat hall. She could not pretend to mind this in the slightest. While she was busy letting her muscles melt into the warmth of the water, she listened in her personal darkness to the quiet shuffle of Jack entering the bathroom and taking his shoes off. Phryne smiled to herself, hoping he would join her in the tub.

"What is going on between you and father?"

She opened her eyes to look at him. His voice was hard to read and so was his face. Phryne swallowed dryly.

"What do you mean?" she asked, smiling nonchalantly and let her eyes close again. Despite her calm exterior, her heart sped up.

"Drop it, Phryne," she heard him say from close proximity, while she felt him sit down at the edge of the tub. She could keep herself barely from flinching. "Yesterday he flew of the handle, as only my father can, and today he is as gentle as a lamb. Someone has twisted his arm and assume it was you?"

Miss Fisher forced herself to pry open her eyes and look at him. She was scared of what she might see, she found. Maybe she had gone too far. Jack's face was serious, but he didn't look like he was about to strangle her. Instead he picked up the sponge and dipped it into the water, ran it gently over her shoulder. Phryne couldn't tear her eyes from his face, while he was busy washing her.

"I just couldn't watch him hurting you any more," she finally explained.

He nodded slightly, without stopping in his task. Phryne held her breath, while he sponged down her chest, tenderly and determined with gentle, strong hands that she never grew tired of looking at.

"Thank you," he finally said, his voice rough with emotion. Miss Fisher didn't answer. There were no words that would have done her heart justice.

Instead she reached out her hand, framing his face with her wet palm.

"I am to be your wife," she smiled. "And nobody gets away with hurting my husband."

Jack laid his hand over hers, wrapping their fingers together.

"You are a dangerous woman to be around, Miss Fisher."

Phryne grinned mischieveously.

"And don't you forget it, Inspector Robinson."

With that, she slung her second dripping hand around Jack's arm, tipping his balance and with a splash, the policeman landed in the bathtub, spilling lavender infused water over the bathroom floor. When he resurfaced spluttering, his soaked three-piece clinging to his skin, he looked briefly like he was going to strangle her after all. But then he burst into laughter.

"God, I am really going to marry you."

"So it seems, Jack."

Phryne leaned back into the water, grinning self-satisfied at him. He ran a hand over the back of her foot, that was floating dangerously close to his hip.

"I think I might have to buy myself a swimsuit then," he teased, while his hand dipped under the surface. Miss Fisher chose not to protest his intention.

X

Much cleaner and happier Miss Fisher sat down an hour later in the living room of her temporary domicile to read the Agatha Christie novel she had brought. Part of her was sad that she had nobody to read it to, but Jack had preferred to go for a walk along the lake, hoping to clear the lingering headache completely. When someone knocked politely onto the open door, she looked up from the current cyanide poisoning, to see her butler standing on the threshold.

"Mr. Butler. I didn't hear you coming. Did the others return yet?" she asked.

"No, Miss. They are having lunch with the Inspector's family. I decided to leave early because I would like to speak to you in private, if I may."

Phryne closed her book and gestured him to sit. Something about the tension displayed on his face made her sit upright in anxious anticipation. Tobias Butler didn't ask for a private word unless there was something serious to be discussed. Her suspicion was confirmed, when he sat down, but stared past her, as if having to sort his thoughts first.

"Miss Fisher, this is not an easy decision for me, I have to assure you, but Mrs. Santi has made me an offer I am very tempted to accept. But it would also mean great changes to my life and therefore..." he trailed off looking at his hands while Phryne stared at him in shock. "I feel you have a right to know, Miss, that I am considering leavingyour service and travelling to India."

Phryne racked her brain for a reaction. Surely he could not be serious? Her house in St. Kilda without the calming presence of Mr. Butler was unthinkable. And yet, they had all moved on, hadn't they? Jane was becoming a young woman fast, Dot had married her Hugh, surely hoping to start a family and she herself would be married soon too. What right did she have to deny Mr. Butler a piece of happiness? She plastered a smile to her face.

"I am happy for you, Mr. Butler. Even though you will be sorely missed."

There seemed to be a shadow of disappointment on his features that passed, before she had a chance to ensure that she wasn't imagining it.

"Though I have to admit," she added on afterthought, "that I didn't realise things between you and my friend were moving quite this fast." Actually, I did think you're relationship was a little on the rocks on my last account, she finished silently in her head. Mr. Butler gave her a tiny smile.

"Neither was I, Miss Fisher. But as things stand-"

Loud, happy chattering from the hallway interrupted him in his explanation, when the rest of the party arrived.

"Miss?!" Dot called out, storming into the parlour a mere second later. Phryne didn't have time to recover from her last shock, before her maid flung herself around her neck.

"I'm having a child!"

"We have not absolutely confirmed that yet," Mac tried some reason from the door, which was completely ignored. For the second time in a matter of minutes Miss Fisher attempted to smile at something that confused her.

"That's wonderful, Dot. Have you told Hugh yet?"

"No, I need to get back to Melbourne. I can't tell him on the phone. Miss, would you mind terribly, if I leave early. I just have to tell him in person!"

"That won't be necessary," Inspector Robinson's voice sounded from the French door he had just stepped through. "I have just rung the Constable from the police station and requested his presence up here, after he has found some background information for us."

He locked eyes with Phryne and nodded slightly. So he had asked Collins to find out more about his family members, despite his own doubts of their involvement. Miss Fisher knew that this couldn't have been easy for him.

"He should be here by lunchtime tomorrow," he smiled. With an uncharacteristic scream of joy, Dot flung herself around the neck of Mr. Butler. Over her shoulder the servant locked eyes with his Mistress. Both noticed that the other looked a little overwhelmed.