My apologies for the late update, I was too absorbed in writing the big showdown ;).
Chapter 31: Golden Chain
"So, what is all this about, Jack?" Fred Simmens-Cox-Stafford asked his wives cousins, after they had settled in the library.
"How well did you know Miss Spencer?" The Inspector asked calmly. There was not a twitch in the other man's face. Just a small smile, that didn't look real.
"I told you already, she was Walter's assistant, I didn't know her well at all."
"I know what you told me," Jack said, rubbing his hands together to warm them. Clouds had started to cover the sky an hour ago and the effect the grey haze had on the world was astonishing.
"But the thing is, Fred, I don't believe you. You are hiding and burning letters and there is money disappearing from your accounts, which you decide to cover up rather than confront your workers about. What is going on?"
Fred stared at his hands and stayed silent.
"She was blackmailing you, wasn't she?" Jack asked. "Did you have an affair?"
Finally, Fred looked up, sweat had appeared on his forehead.
"Absolutely not! I am married! And I really had not the slightest interest in Miss Spencer."
Jack nodded, looking serious.
"So, what had she found out about you that your wife wasn't allowed to know?"
"I'll admit that she was blackmailing me, Jack. Does it have to go any further?"
There was pleading in Fred's eyes and the Inspector felt sorry for him. But he couldn't leave it at this, as much as he wanted to.
"I'm sorry, Fred, but this is a murder investigation."
His cousin's husband nodded, straightening his shoulders.
"I was with intelligence during the War," he finally said quietly. "As a spy in Germany."
The Inspector swallowed. He had to admit that the mousy Fred Simmens was probably about the last man on earth he would have expected to be a spy. Which was probably the point really. He cleared his throat.
"And do I go right in the assumption, that Laura doesn't know this?"
Something happened to Fred, Jack found. The quiet but calm exterior broke when his wife was mentioned and made room for deep unhappiness that he had seen mirrored on Laura's face earlier.
"She will leave me the moment she finds out," Fred croaked. "Laura is a normal, nice woman and she wants a normal, nice life. I'm trying to give her that. Please don't destroy this, I beg of you."
Jack nodded slowly, wondering if he should point out that Laura had always been the first hanging in every tree, when they had been little.
"Don't you think you should tell her?" he prodded gently, remembering his own struggle with sharing the dark secrets of War with Phryne. "You cannot hide yourself away forever."
Fred pulled himself to his feet, pacing the room.
"You don't understand. I am not proud of my past, but I have Laura now and our little son," he smiled. "I'm trying to do right by her, but she would despise me, if she knew."
"Knew what?"
The cold, angry voice belonged to Laura, who stood in the door like a nemesis. The effect was spoiled somewhat by the toddler on her arms, happily stretching out his hands for his father.
"I will leave you to it," Jack decided calmly, pulling himself to his feet and taking Fred junior from his cousin's unresisting arms. What was to be said in this room was not meant for toddlers.
While he carefully fumbled down the stairs, trying to look past the squirming child on his arms, Phryne caught up to him.
"Are you trying to tell me something, Inspector?" she asked, pointing at the boy.
"Yes, Miss Fisher. That I could really do with some help babysitting, while my cousin is sorting out her marriage," he grinned, relieved, that this was now a joking matter.
"I don't do children," she reminded him.
"So I've heard," he squeezed out, finally arriving in the hall without any accidents.
"I gather Fred has not shot anyone then?" she asked happily, watching the Inspector struggle with a child that had entirely too many arms and legs.
"I wouldn't vouch for 'anyone'," Jack stated, attempting to tickle the boy without dropping him, "but I'm currently inclined to think not Miss Spencer or Mrs. Barton."
"And what makes you think that?" Phryne asked, to Jack's amazement releasing Fred junior from his arms and holding him like she had been nursing children all her life. He wondered for a moment if the relief from the pressure had taken the scariness of children away from her, when she swung the little boy on her arms, making him shriek with laughter. It was a beautiful picture and the Inspector decided to not think any deeper into the subject. He had more than he had ever dreamed of, certainly a lot more than he had dared to hope for - there was no point in grieving himself with things that weren't to be. Instead he would embrace the wonderful life that spread out in front of him without regrets. Even though, he thought, tickling little Fred's belly, while Miss Fisher watched on with fond eyes, maybe he should keep in touch with Laura and her family a little more in the future.
"Jack?" Phryne asked into his thoughts. He hummed in response.
"What makes you think, it wasn't Fred?" she asked.
"Because he loves his family," Jack asked grinning. "And there is a reason it's called intelligence."
Miss Fisher didn't understand a word, but she chose not to ask any further. She was sure, he would explain later on.
X
Mac coughed in the dust, inhaling half a spider web and coughing some more.
"You know, this is not quite what I expected of our romantic meeting," she pointed out to her lover, who was fumbling her way through boxes.
"It wasn't meant to be romantic," Hazel pointed out, opening another lid. "And I did warn you that it was an attic."
"Thank you so much," Mac quipped sarcastically, leaning over her lover's shoulder. Hazel hummed disappointedly.
"Dolls," she said, pulling one with a formerly white dress out of the dusty remains of her childhood. "That one was Amanda's, I believe."
"Of course you didn't play with dolls," the doctor smiled, riffling through another box.
"Actually, I loved them," Hazel admitted. "I think I was almost ten, before I stopped dragging poor Marie around with me. By the time she had cracks all through her face."
With a triumphant scream she pulled the worn doll from the pile. Mac looked at 'poor Marie' for a moment. It was an ugly thing that had obviously suffered under the strain of being loved too much, for too long. But it was oddly touching, holding something in her hands that tied her to the girl Hazel had been before she had met her. She ran a gentle fingertips over the worn face.
Her lover grinned, taking the ragged thing from Mac's hands and stuffing it back into the box.
"Then I lost interest in dolls, and haunted Uncle Walter to teach me gold-smithing."
"I thought you only sold jewellery," Mac asked, her interest piquing.
"Officially that is all I do," Hazel answered, wiping a thick layer of dust from a working table with bare hands. "Since a woman can't do a job like that." She rolled her eyes. "She needs to stand in the shop and look pretty and smile a lot."
Elizabeth took her lover's hand pressing it gently and regretting the motion straight away, as dust was spread over her fingers. She wiped them on her pants, while Hazel looked at her with a sparkle in her eyes.
"But Mr. Norton has noticed that I do have some talent. He lets me do the filigree pieces that he hates. Of course only when nobody else is there."
"So he takes the credit for your work?" Mac asked grumpily. The other woman shrugged.
"I get to do what I like. Look at this," she said, opening a drawer in the working-bench. "There is still some tools in there."
"Why has your Uncle given up on the gold-smithing?" Mac asked, trying to change the subject to something that didn't make her blood boil.
"Mostly because the mine ran out of gold," Hazel laughed. "Well and really, I think it was just a small hobby. He doesn't like sitting down for a long time and staring at tiny pieces of metal."
"In difference to you?" the doctor asked, inspecting the tools, while daring to run a warm hand along her lovers hip. A cough in their back interrupted them. The two women turned, worrying about the appearance. Mac drew a breath of relief when she saw who was standing in the door. Jane smiled at the two dusty women with a certain smugness. She was a keen observer.
"Aunt Esmeralda sends me up to call you for afternoon tea," she said.
Hazel looked down on herself.
"Rather inconvenient timing," she quipped.
"What are you two doing up here?" Jane asked, stepping closer with curiosity sparkling in her eyes.
"Hazel is showing me some tricks of her trade," Mac stated calmly, ignoring the faint blush on her lover's cheeks. Jane looked at the work-bench, tipping her head.
"It's a gold-smithing work-bench," Hazel explained. "I sell jewellery down in Melbourne for a living."
"You sell or you make it?"
"Both!" Mac cut in, before her lover could dare to downplay her talents. Jane smiled, a sudden idea lighting up her face. Afternoon tea could wait.
X
"I can't put my finger on it, but something is off about his story," Phryne pointed out.
Jack nodded, chewing on his lip. After they had handed little Fred over to his grandmother, they had withdrawn to a quiet little parlour in the back of the house, hoping to talk in peace about the developments of their case. Of course, that wouldn't work for long. But they had managed to work through their interview with the widower again.
"Why would his wife be taking out an insurance for a sum like that and not talk to her husband about it? That's nagging at me," Jack opted.
"Only to be conveniently murdered the next day," Phryne repeated earlier thoughts. "It's almost as if she staged her own death."
"She is very much dead though, I have no doubt about that."
Phryne thought briefly, but shook her head.
"And Miss Rucci is certain that it is Mrs. Barton and not her sister."
"Do we trust her judgement?" Jack asked.
Phryne wanted to say 'yes', for unknown reasons. She just felt like Miss Rucci was the one genuine person in the whole drama about the siblings. She wondered something.
"If the sisters were actually your cousins, Jack, she might know something about your missing aunt."
The Inspector rubbed a palm over his mouth and Miss Fisher wondered if she had made a mistake by reminding him, whose death he was investigating.
"Do you think this is the time to dig into family history?" he asked after a moment of silence.
"No time like the present," she smiled. "It might accidentally shed some light onto the investigations, Jack. You never know. And we might find your father's long lost sister. She might appreciate some family after she has lost two daughters within a week."
Jack nodded quietly. Their attempts to contact the victim's parents didn't have any success so far, supposedly they were travelling at the time. Mrs. Spencer would have the shock of her life time when she returned home. If John Robinson was really what she needed in a situation like that?
"You don't think my father is involved, do you?" he asked, all of the sudden.
Phryne looked up from studying the notes Hugh had left her to stare at him in confusion.
"Your father? Don't be silly, Jack. What would be his motive?"
Anxiously the Inspector rubbed his hands on his lap. Miss Fisher found the transformation almost funny. Detective-Inspector Robinson had briefly forgotten to be a policeman and was a worried son.
"I don't know, but he hasn't shared his involvement with Mrs. Barton. That makes him suspicious," he pointed out quietly.
"It wasn't him," Phryne said, about to share why she was absolutely certain about this, when the door flew open. Of course, talking in peace was impossible.
"Here you are hiding," Aunt P. boomed, joining them uninvited. "I was just wondering about the date."
The couple looked at her in confusion.
"When will you celebrate your wedding, Phryne? We do have a lot to prepare. You probably have no idea, how much work needs to be done for an occasion like this, you poor girl."
Jack opened his mouth, willing to admit his defeat and probably draw forever the wrath of Phryne's aunt onto himself, but his lover was faster.
"I'm sorry to have to dash your hopes of being able to bring in your organisation talents, Aunt P, but the wedding is not going to happen." She looked at Jack, who gulped. "Not here anyway, we are still going to get married, but back in Melbourne."
Prudence Stanley looked appalled.
"And why would you be doing that? It is ridiculous that you had us all in the expectation of a wedding and then just change your mind, Phryne. That is really not very nice of you."
She huffed and was about to get up, when Jack found his voice.
"Actually, Mrs. Stanley, we have not changed our minds," he said, his voice calmer and steadier than he felt. "The Vicar flat out refused to wed us. That is the truth and there is nothing we can do about it than move on."
Her mouth agape, Prudence sat back down.
"That is outrageous."
"Sadly it isn't," Miss Fisher sighed, "You know, that Jack would marry the second time and Vicar Bailey says his hands are tied."
"Usually this kind of issues can be fixed," Aunt P. pointed out.
"Not in this case, I'm afraid. The problem seems to be the bishop," Phryne answered absent-mindedly, while worriedly watching Jack rub his face with both palms. She was starting to get annoyed with her aunt for picking at the subject when they had just managed to distract themselves from it. When she looked back up, her aunt had pulled herself to her feet and full height. It wasn't that much, but it was still impressive.
"We shall see about that," she announced loudly. "I will ring the archbishop right now."
Miss Fisher raised her eyebrows.
"Don't look at me like that, Phryne. I have known Bishop Ferguson since he was a little Vicar at St. George's. And God knows, he owes me a world of favours. I believe I single-handedly raised enough money to keep the church from falling down around him back in the day."
Phryne wondered for a moment if to ask her aunt if she was really certain the Archbishop of Melbourne remembered her after all those years, but watching her march out of the room, she realised, that Prudence Stanley was really rather hard to forget.
"Did that just happen?" Jack asked after a beat. "Or am I dreaming?"
"If you start dreaming of Aunt P. I really would be worried," Phryne smiled, grasping his hand. Despite not knowing the outcome of her aunt's call, her heart felt suddenly light. And when she turned to Jack, she saw the same hope reflected in his Irises. Maybe the situation wasn't as dire as Vicar Bailey had feared, after all.