Chapter 35: Ginger Root

John saw Phryne stop in her tracks, and while he was still wondering what had happened, he sprinted past her and saw it with his own eyes. Jack, lifeless on the floor, Barton still bent over him, his son's tie in his hands, finishing the job. Where Miss Fisher couldn't scream, John could. His howl sent the birds into panicked flight, as it cut through the formerly peaceful forest. Barton looked up a second too late, as a human canon ball hit him, rolling with him over the forest ground. He hit his head on a small rock, which might have been one of the reasons he ended up on his back, despite John Robinson being a head smaller and 30 years older than his opponent. Or possibly it was just the desperate rage of a man whose son he had just murdered that really overwhelmed him. But he looked up dazed at the former policeman, who sat on his chest, madly shaking him.

John knew he was yelling, but he had no idea what he was saying. He didn't dare look around, to where Phryne and Jane had scrambled down beside Jack's body.

"Jack!" Jane yelled, shaking her father, who didn't move.

Phryne's desperate fingers opened the tie that was still wrapped around her Inspector's neck, trembling hands searching for something, anything that would prove that he wasn't dead. He couldn't be! They were about to get married, spend the rest of their lives together. She didn't want to imagine a life without Jack Robinson in it. Tears threatened to blind her, but her fingers were still anxiously searching his neck, where angry bruises were already forming. There! Her trembling fingertips returned to the point where she had imagined a tiny beat.

They found it a second later. Tiny heartbeats, steadily pulsing under her fingertips. Phryne didn't know if to laugh or cry. She looked up to Jane who understood and burst into tears. The world started again. The colours flooded back. The sound followed.

"If you have killed my son, I will make the remainder of your life hell!" she heard John scream, still having Barton by the collar.

"John!" Phryne yelled, without turning. "John!"

She realised somewhere in the haze, that they weren't on first name basis. But it wasn't the time for politeness, not right now. Phryne turned to see that her father-in-law had stopped shaking the dazed killer, and was looking at her through glazed eyes.

"He's alive," she whispered, watching the tears form on John's face. Out of the corner of her eye, the lady detective noticed movement. The woman was at present fishing the discarded pistol from the floor. Phryne's hand slipped into her handbag easily, before she jumped to her feet.
"If I was you, I would leave that exactly where it it," she growled, extending the golden pistol towards a head of strawberry blonde curls.

Madelyn Spencer returned to an upright position without the weapon. Something about Miss Fisher's face told her that she was lucky if she did not end up being shot today.

"You killed your own sister to get her husband?" Phryne spat, shaking with rage.

John had turned his head too, watching the two women breathlessly. Barton seemed to have withdrawn into another world.

"We are in love," Madelyn whispered, paling.

"And I suspect you were in love with the money, too? It was quite clever actually. You 'died', then went to Sydney to take out a life insurance under your sister's name and returned to kill her, while your lover made sure he had a watertight alibi out there. And she walked right into your trap, because she trusted you."

Miss Spencer stared at the floor.

"Joseph's business was in trouble. I wanted to help him."

"With a murder?"

Phryne turned to look at Jane, who had not left Jack's side, watching the conversation unfold kneeling on the moss. But it hadn't been her, who had spoken. The scratchy, hoarse voice belonged to Jack Robinson. At present he pulled himself to a sitting position, briefly pressing Jane's hand as he did so.
"I have seen a lot in my career," he said, getting to his feet and stepping closer to the women, "and I heard many stupid excuses. But this must be about the most cold-blooded tale so far."

He was angry. Really angry. But the Inspector also looked like he was about to topple over and Jane held his arm to stop him from doing just that. John took his cue to haul the still rather confused looking Joseph Barton to his feet, while Phryne picked up the second pistol from the floor, storing it in her handbag. In a strange little procession they made their way back to Wombat Hall.

X

Miss Fisher sighed wearily, kicking her shoes under the bed and crawled fully dressed underneath the covers. Jack woke from his restless dozing, when his lover snuggled up to him, wrapping her arms around him as if she never intended to let go again. In fact, Phryne was seriously considering that thought.

He gently stroked her hair, once she had bedded her head on his chest, listening to his reassuringly beating heart.

"If I ask you to never do this again, would it change anything?" she finally asked.

Jack pondered this for a moment without opening his eyes.

"I probably would feel guilty the next time someone tries to strangle me," he answered smiling.

There was silence, while Phryne's head was lifted by his lungs filling with air. It was the most calming motion in the world.

"You frightened the living daylight out of me," she admitted quietly. He didn't answer for a long moment and she was almost convinced that he had drifted back to sleep, when he suddenly wrapped tighter around her, entwining their limbs.

"My apologies, Miss Fisher. That was truly not my intention."

Any cheekiness in his words was belied by the way he held her. He had been scared out of his mind too, she realised. Outside a bird called for it's mate. The lovers inside lay in silence, her head on his chest, his heartbeat still drumming a beautiful melody.

"Did they confess?" Jack asked after some time.

"They did," Phryne murmured. "They had been planning this for months, after finding out about the legend and the hidden passageway. Miss Spencer orchestrated everything from Samuel's affair to Mrs. Barton contacting your father."

"How did they convince Abigail Barton to get involved into plotting her own murder?"

"They didn't. Mrs. Barton was really hoping to reconcile her beloved nurse with her estranged family," Phryne yawned. "And her sister encouraged her, fitting it snugly into the plan to kill her."

"A very strange plan," Jack pointed out sleepily. "I am still pondering why she wore that particular dress. And why she came to Wombat Hall from the south, rather than use the main entrance. They couldn't have exactly asked her to dress up for her murder and sneak through the gardens to make it more convenient to shoot her."

"Madelyn pretended that she was going to play some swapping trick on their 'lost Uncle'. The girls were fond of those when they were little."

"Well, it was definitely a swapping trick," Jack threw in dryly, running his big toe along Phryne's ankle.

Miss Fisher rolled her eyes in mock annoyance before continuing, "of course, Mrs. Barton was rather distraught when she found out about her sister's supposed death, so Madelyn sent her a note. I didn't realise till yesterday in the library, that the hand on that letter is the same as the one we found in the fire place."

"So that's how you pieced the puzzle together?" Jack asked.

"That and Hector, who had noticed that there was a stranger in his forest. It was rather stupid of Miss Spencer to hide this close, but she didn't want to leave her lover alone."

"Love turns people into fools, Miss Fisher," Jack stated, finally opening his eyes and pulling her into a kiss. Phryne smiled into his mouth, before she carried on.

"Those two fools were hoping that Otterson would be discouraged by so many suspects and too much confusion, allowing them to vanish with the money before anyone had figured it out. What they did not count on was you being here, Jack," Phryne smiled. "But they were silly enough to go ahead with the plan anyway, despite the Detective-Inspector sitting at the table."
The Inspector shifted into a more comfortable position, moving his fiancée with him.

"Actually, I merely got myself almost killed. You figured out the crime. So really it was your attendance they didn't count on."

"Oh, don't lie, Jack," Phryne teased. "You worked it out at the same time I did. "

"Sadly I was staring down the barrel of a gun at the time though."

Phryne bit her lip in dark thought.

"Jane said, Barton was only going to take you hostage. How exactly did that turn into him trying to murder you?"

Jack shrugged underneath her. He realised that he had no urge to tell her that he had barely stopped Joseph Barton from shooting Jane.

"He changed his mind, I guess," he murmured.

Phryne lifted her head to look at her fiancé. She didn't believe a word, but she could guess well enough what had happened. Jack would protect the people he loved with his life. And she wasn't sure if to thank him or hit him for that.

Miss Fisher nestled against his shoulder, gently trailing her fingertips over the red and blue marks his tie had left behind on the tender skin of his neck. The Inspector flinched, but didn't stop her.

"You know, Jack, I would understand if you didn't feel up for the whole wedding hubbub tomorrow."

There was silence for a moment, while Phryne watched him looking at her with dark eyes; felt his fingers run lazily trough her hair. She couldn't help but feel overwhelming relief at the fact that the body underneath her was still warm and alive and breathing. It didn't really matter much in comparison, if there was a wedding tomorrow or not. Or if Aunt P. had used her absence to move the wedding venue, for that matter.

"I can't think of anything I would rather do than marry you, Miss Fisher," Jack whispered, his voice rough with an equal amount of emotion and strain.

"We had best go ahead with it then," Phryne smiled, turning and rolling up on her side, before she could burst into tears. Moments later she sensed Jack follow, wrapping around her easily.

"Phryne?" he asked after a while.

"Jack?" she murmured, half asleep.

"I am pretty sure that the bride and groom aren't supposed to sleep in one bed in the night before their wedding," the Inspector pointed out.

"I'd like to see you try and make me leave you alone tonight," she grumbled.

Jack grinned into the darkness. Minutes later her soft breathing told him that she had gone to sleep. Closing his eyes, he tried his hardest to follow her into the land of dreams.

X

"It was close," Mac said, gently rubbing the tense shoulders of her lover, while she watched her work. "Luckily the lack of blood flow caused him to pass out before his windpipe was crushed. Still, a few more seconds and it might have been fatal."

Hazel shuddered under her hands, despite the stuffy warmth the day's sun had left behind in the attic.

"But at least his father seems to have been cured of his bad temper by the shock," the Doctor continued, "I believe he was in Jack's room for almost two hours this afternoon."

"Nothing like a near-death experience to reconcile," Hazel stated dryly. "I think we are nearly done here. But I kind of wish Jane would finish it. It is her present after all."

"I wouldn't be surprised, if she was already asleep," Mac said. "The poor kid had a rough day."

"Are they even still going to go ahead with the wedding?" Hazel asked after a moment of thoughtful silence.

"I don't know what their plans are. Phryne vanished right after she knew he was going to be all right to finish off their case. That seems to be a sort of coping mechanism in her. From a medical point of view I don't see why they wouldn't. As long as his shirt collar covers up the bruises," Mac finished grinning.

"Honestly I can't see Jack calling off his wedding because of something minor like almost dying," Hazel laughed. "I'm afraid insanity does run in this family."

"He wont," a voice from the door said. Jane looked tired, worn and a little pale, but she was smiling. "He told me earlier. So we better get this finished," she explained, while Hazel made room for her. Mac knew that Jane had spent most of the afternoon at the side of the bed, she herself had banished Jack to. The Inspector had stubbornly tried to insist on heading to the station with the murderous couple, before the Doctor had put her foot down. Finally he had succumbed to getting some rest, while Hugh and Phryne had joined Sergeant Otterson for the interrogations. When Mac had peeked into the guest room an hour later, she had spotted Jane sitting on the duvet at the end of the Inspector's bed, reading a novel to him, while Jack had happily complained that she was taking after her mother. The Doctor had silently closed the door and retreated.

She did the same now, quietly slipping onto a chair opposite the two women who where working feverishly on the last steps. The colour was returning to Jane's cheeks, that the events of the afternoon had drained away and Hazel's eyes twinkled in amusement. She really was beautiful, the Doctor noted, despite being surrounded by the dust of decades. Just then, Hazel glanced up, a smile on her lips, as if she had felt Elizabeth's thoughts turning around her.

"Why are you two hiding?" Jane asked, casually, without looking up from her work. The breath caught in Mac's throat. She looked at Hazel, who seemed to have frozen mid move.

"What do you mean?" the Doctor asked, realising that she didn't even sound sincere to her own ears.

"Half of them know anyway," Jane said unmoved, ignoring the question and continuing to polish the piece in her hands.

"It's not that easy," Hazel pressed out, paling.

A knock at the attic-door ended the conversation. Dorothy Williams slipped in, a tray in hands with four steaming cups and a bowl of biscuits on it.

"Mr. Butler thought, you might want some cocoa while you're working on the secret present."

Jane looked at Mac, who shrugged. Neither of them had told the butler about their intentions.

"Thank you, that sounds lovely," Hazel exclaimed, stealing a biscuit.

"Are you feeling better?" Mac enquired, after Dot had handed out the cups and taken a sip of her own. Jane suddenly looked up, slapping a hand in front of her mouth.

"I'm so sorry, Dot. I forgot the peppermint!"

Dorothy laughed.

"I didn't expect you to remember the herbs after you stumbled into the nest of the murderers. And thank you. Maria made me some ginger tea and it did wonders for my stomach."

As if to prove this, she grabbed herself a biscuit, biting into it with a soft crunch. Comfortable silence settled.

"So, what is that mysterious present then?" Dorothy asked after she had finished.

"This!" Jane answered, proudly extending a piece of jewellery.

"Oh, it's beautiful!" Dot exclaimed, taking it from her hands and inspecting it closer. "Do they know?"

Jane rolled her eyes in mock annoyance and shared a proud grin with Hazel.