Chapter 19: Comet

"Are you certain that this is it?" Jack Turner asked Edward Wenbrock. They had been staring at the peeling facade of the two-storey house in Fitzroy for somewhat longer than was strictly unsuspicious. Phryne peeled herself from the wall they were leaning against.

"Let's find out, shall we?"

With that she crossed the street. The two men hurried behind her after a brief exchange of looks. Instead of heading for the door, she was aiming at the alleyway leading past the house, however.

"What is your plan?" Jack asked, unnecessarily. She was currently eyeing the fence, protecting Mrs. Campell's property from the eyes of the public.

"Help me, will you," she said, the Inspector willingly shaping his hands for her to step in and lifting her to reach the top. For a moment, Mrs. Robinson hung in mid-air.

"Nobody here," she called down then disappeared. Sighing, Jack found something to grip in the wooden boards and pulled himself up to the top. Breaking and entering on an undercover job. Great. His silent huff went unnoticed, however, while Eddie followed him with less practice but just as much determination. Jack couldn't help but wonder what his motivation was. He hadn't stopped to breath since their encounter behind the church, yet avoided any questions on his connection with Natalija Nowak, other than their families having been friends for many years. Something told Jack that that wasn't the whole story.

Breathlessly he lowered himself to the ground on the other side, landing in the cool grass that covered the small back yard. Phryne was pressed against the house wall, lifting her finger to her lips for them to be silent. Eddie was puffing even more than himself, the Inspector noticed with some satisfaction, suppressing a cough. They snuck towards the Lady Detective, who was glancing into an open window in the back.

"She's leaving," she whispered. Seconds later, Phryne reached up to push the window in and climbed through the frame. Without discussion, both men followed her, Jack feeling his heart pound in his chest. It was completely unreasonable to do this, they should have just phoned City South and let his colleagues raid the place. And yet, he was feeling alive in a way he hadn't in days. What made the experience even more treasured to him was the observation that Phryne seemed to have crawled back into her skin. The worry etched on her face was gone, she was glowing with excitement. This was the chase.

He almost ran into her when she stopped sharply in the door and felt Eddie step onto his heel. Jack swallowed down a curse. Female voices came closer, then passed. The detectives scurried down a hallway. There was a quiet, pained groan from one of the rooms. The door was just ajar and Phryne was the first to glance through the gap, with Jack soon following. Two women were lying on a bed, one of them asleep, the other one curled up in pain. Phryne looked at her husband, who shook his head. Neither of them was Natalija. But very likely one of them had been Helen not too long ago and Jack had every intention of calling Collins as soon as they had found their girl and direct him to Miss Kerby's killers. He felt a leaden weight in his stomach and Phryne's face told him that she experienced the exactly same emotion. The moved on, heading for the next room. Voices sounded again - someone laughed heading down the stairs towards them. Someone else was knocking at the entrance that was only two metres away from where the snooping threesome stood, looking at each other in terror. Jack was the first to react, pushing open the door to a random room in the hope that it would be empty. It probably had been a sitting room at some stage, but there were two beds pushed against the wall, holding more women. Several pairs of curious eyes were turned towards them, but one in particular caught their attention. Natalija, standing in a nightdress -having stopped in the middle of pacing, stared at the intruders with her mouth open.

"Miss Nowak..." Jack started, not sure how to proceed, but realised that she was looking right past him, white as the wall.

"Eddie?" she whispered. There was turmoil outside the door, loud voices, shouting. One of them sounded awfully familiar.

"I'm arresting you under suspicion of murder..."

Jack and Phryne stared at each other in shock, while Wenbrock seemed unable to hear anything but the silent breathing of the girl, who still stood frozen on the carpet. Then she shot past them and out the window, jumping down into the grass with naked feet.

"Natalija," Eddie yelled. "Don't be stupid!"

When the other three reached the window, the girl was already half across the yard. Eddie was the first to climb through, his fear giving him wings, Phryne was the second on the ledge, with Jack staring nervously at the door. It flew open the same moment. Constable Collins jaw dropped, when he found himself confronted with his superior officer in the middle of an abortion racket.

"Forget you ever saw us," Jack hissed, jumping after Phryne and racing across the yard. Dot pushed after her husband into the room, shaking a sensible officer off, who was challenging her to see reason.

"Was that...?" she asked. Hugh shook his head, turning to the women, who were currently trying to crawl under their bedding. He sounded more than confused, when he spoke.

"No, that was not the Inspector! Or Miss Fisher! They've never been here at all."

X

He watched in silence, as the other man shuffled about, straightened papers, returned his pencil to its place, and shifted his hat on its stand. By the time, he finally sat down behind his huge polished desk, George Sanderson was near exploding with anxiety. A pair of watery bluish eyes looked at him through thick-rimmed glasses. The Chief Commissioner was used to this ritual. In a way, he appreciated it.

Judge Banks was one of the most rigorous keepers of the law in Melbourne, which was, so George felt, not only tightly connected with the way he currently pushed a pile of folders into a perfectly aligned pile, but also with the fact that he didn't succumb to the variety of attempts at blackmailing or bribing him over the years. The law was the law in his world, and nobody above it, no matter how lucrative a little turning away might be for himself. He also didn't have any family to speak of and there seemed little interest for him in a life beyond his desk, both probably adding to his stubbornness. Which was probably the main and possibly the only reason, Elaine Browning had ever been convicted. And yet, when he had asked George Sanderson to his office on a Sunday morning, the Commissioner couldn't shake the terrible feeling that his luck might be running out.

"George," he finally said.

"Abraham?"

A pair of hands was folded carefully.

"I would assume you follow the newspapers?"

Sanderson's stomach twisted, but he kept his best poker face in place.

"You would assume correctly."

"You know that I admire you're work, George, but I will have to ask this: Is there any truth to the accusations?"

"None, whatsoever."

Abraham Banks leaned back in his chair, a very unusual gesture that showed just how tense he was.

"Let me speak openly. I took a great risk at sentencing Mrs. Browning to death by the rope. The people in this city don't appreciate to seeing women hanged." He paused. "And her family is very powerful, I don't have to remind you of, I am sure."

"Indeed you don't," Sanderson answered stiffly. He couldn't help but wonder, where this was heading. Did Judge Banks in the end go weak in the knees about the vivid imagination of some so called journalists? He sat up straight, feeling like a schoolboy.

"Abraham, there was no fabrication to the outcome of this case. Mrs. Browning poisoned her husband, deliberately and cruelly. And I am also certain that she was quite involved in her families other deeds."

"Even though we couldn't prove any of it," the judge hummed.

"Well, when was that ever possible?" George asked sharply. "People like the Brownings don't leave anything to chance. The only reason we took down Brad Browning was that he lost his head and tried to shoot me, with about 20 officers of the Melbourne police force as witnesses. Otherwise we would still take him off the streets for minor felonies, a month here or there."

Banks hummed unhappily.

"That might very well be. But you are well aware that what really tipped the case wasn't Mrs. Browning killing her husband. Victor Browning was a gangster, a murderer. Nobody cared much about his death beyond relief. But people did care about Inspector Robinson. If I recall correctly, the papers were full of his fate for days. And yet he foolishly never made a statement to the press."

"He appeared in the trial."

"So he did. And I believed him, as did the rest of the city."

"And now you don't?" George asked. "Because someone fabricated a whole new truth, where Elaine Browning is the innocent victim of a conspiracy? Abraham, I was there when we found him. Do you have the slightest idea in what state he was?"

Sanderson retreated, trying to calm down. He was losing his temper, which was generally a bad idea in the eyes of Judge Banks.

"I've seen his doctor's report," the other man recalled. "From a Doctor MacMillan, who turns out to be a personal friend of DI Robinson's."

Sanderson dipped his head, rubbing sweat off himself with his palm and battling down his anger and frustration.

"George, the reason I called you here today is because I had a visitor last night. You do remember Mrs. Browning's solicitor, I assume."

"Naturally."

"Well, Mr. Boyd visited my office yesterday at a late hour and demanded the hanging be delayed as there is new evidence and new witnesses have spoken up."

"Doubtlessly bought with money from illegal businesses," Sanderson grumbled under his breath. A pair of eyes glanced at him over the rim of glasses.

"I cannot ignore this, George. Not under the current circumstances."

Something fell with a heavy thump.

"You can't be serious! Are you aware, how dangerous it is for Jack out there right now?!"

The man stared at each other in surprise. Neither of them had expected the outburst. Sanderson picked up the chair and sank back onto it, fixing his glasses.

"I am told, Inspector Robinson has disappeared from the face of the earth at this stage," Banks continued after a breathless pause. "Is he safe?"

"I sent him away on an investigation," Sanderson admitted.

"But he could be retrieved, if we needed his word?"

"In the blink of an eye."

Banks smiled enigmatically.

"There will be a hearing tomorrow afternoon, George. I expect that you might want to bring your own witnesses?"

George Sanderson couldn't help but mirror the smile.

X

"One would think it would be easy to find a woman clothed in nothing but a nightdress," Jack grumbled, slamming the door shut behind them. They had returned to their cottage to regroup, but really, none of them had an idea anymore where else to look. They had been to Natalija's home, trying to calm down a confused grandfather; to all surrounding houses where friends of the family lived; had even been to Jones & Willerson's in the hope that she might be hiding in the empty factory and back to St. Joseph's, where Father Bradbury could only shake his head sadly. No one had so much as seen her.

Eddie sank into a chair, burying his face in his hands. The Inspector sat down opposite him without taking his coat off. Phryne just stood, wondering what else they could do.

"Sorry, I accused ya of bein' that coward of a father," Eddie Wenbrock said after a pause.

"Don't mention it."

Phryne glanced at her husband, who was coughing quietly into his fist. Then she turned, wordlessly firing up the oven. She wasn't quite sure, if she herself would ever get warm again. The traitorous sunlight was covering up the nasty chill in the air that stabbed through thin fabrics like little needles.

"I do wonder though, if yer not some kind of saints and ya aren't the father, why are ya two so worried 'bout her?" Eddie asked quizzically.

A knock interrupted the conversation, before Jack could come up with a lie. Relieved, he pulled himself to his feet and opened, wanting to slam the door shut the same moment. The face in front of him, was, if somewhat older, also awfully familiar.

"Ahhh, you must be Jack," Adelheid chirped, when he didn't say anything for a long moment. She stretched out her hand. "Adelheid Willis, and this..." she pointed at a pale man wearing a suit that didn't quite fit him anymore, "is my husband Terry and little Paul and Mindy."

The two children stared at Jack, as if he had personally offended them. He greeted with a thin smile and stepped aside for them to enter.

"We actually were wondering if you wanted to join us for the park. We are heading up to the falls, since it's such a wonderfully sunny day. I believe the Carters might join us too. Have you met your next door neighbours, Jack? Lovely people."

The Inspector frowned.

"I don't think, I have."

To his surprise, Eddie laughed.

"Actually, you meet him every day. Mike Carter. Tallish bloke, blonde hair."

Jack turned to look at Wenbrock, then Phryne, who shrugged.

"He lives next door?"

"An amusing coincidence," his wife smiled, holding Jack's gaze. Neither of them believed in coincidences. Adelheid's charming laughter sounded through the kitchen.

"It is almost a reunion then. Maggy loves the falls, I believe she is up there at least three times a week with the children. So, Mike will have to come along."

Phryne was startled out of her thoughts on coincidence, by Eddie mumbling something under her breath. She caught on a second later.

"I apologise Adelheid, but today doesn't suit us very well. We will have to decline your lovely offer. Another time."

More laughter, while Terry hopped uneasily from one foot to the other and the children had started to annoy each other.

"No worries, my love. Next time will do just fine. Enjoy the beautiful Sunday."

In a complicated shuffle, the Family Willis left the Turner's kitchen. When the door had finally closed behind them, Eddie was already back on his feet.

"As a child she was always in the park. Maybe she went out there to think or hide... or something."

Seconds later, the three were on their way again. It occurred to Phryne briefly, that finding a woman in the park was like looking for a needle in a hay stack, but then she did like a challenge. And it was better than sitting around. Her heels clacked over cobbles, as they flew down Gipps Street. Right now, Phryne really longed for her Hispano. She felt like she had run a marathon this morning. Jack's heavy breathing right behind her, told her that he wasn't feeling any better. A part of her regretted having dragged him out into the cold today. But who would have thought that a little harmless sleuthing about their Grog Baron would turn into chasing down a young woman across three suburbs? Suddenly, the sound was gone and Phryne threw a look back to see that Jack had stopped to catch his breath. Eddie had slowed down to enquire after his health and Lady Detective was considering if she should turn around when she saw it. The white nightdress fluttered in the wind. On the railing of Collins Bridge sat a female figure, staring into the muddy waters of the Yarra. The river wasn't deep up here, but it had been raining quite heavily lately and the water reached up to the tips lining it's bank, wafting a nauseating smell of rubbish over to the running detectives. The men had spotted the woman too, but Jack grabbed Eddie by the arm and held him back, as he realised that Phryne had stopped, kicking her shoes off.

Natalija didn't look up, when the other woman climbed on the railing beside her.

"You must be cold," Phryne said.

"What business is it of yours?" Natalija asked, shivering.

"None, really. But I could loan you some clothes and make you a cup of tea. You don't have to go home."

The girl looked up for the first time, stared at Phryne.

"My gramp doesn't care," she said, miserably. "He probably hasn't noticed me bein' gone yet. But Eddie..." She let the end of the sentence hang in the air.

Phryne glanced at the two men, who were standing out of earshot, watching them with bated breath.

"Eddie just wants you to come home safely," she said. "He does not seem to care for much else."

There was a tiny smile crossing the girls face as quick as a shadow.

"He's a good man," she whispered.

"And yet you are going to break his heart?" Phryne asked, staring ahead into the muddy waves of water flowing underneath them.

"His heart's been broken, since Sarah died." Pausing, as if looking far into the past, she continued, "I'm expecting a child."

Phryne nodded.

"I'm sure, we can find a solution for that. Given time."

"He saw me at Nurse Campbell's!"

"You could have just gone to her for a cold," Phryne fibbed, feeling that she was losing the grip on this conversation again. The young woman shook her head.

"Everybody knows what she does. And now he's got it into his head that it's Jack Turner's!"

Phryne couldn't hide the smile spreading over her face.

"I know."

There was silence, as the young woman stared at her.

"Yer his wife, aren't ya?" she said, her voice shrill. "That's why yer here!"

Shocked, Phryne stared at the girl then shook her head. The two men on the ground seemed to now be arguing silently.

"No, Natalija. We've been looking for you all over."

But something about the day had caught up on the girl, she wasn't listening. Phryne noticed with a sense of terror that she was edging away on the thin metal railing.

"It's not his! He didn't so much as touch me!" the girl yelled, close to tears. Time slowed down, as Mrs. Robinson watched her slip.