Chapter 20: Neptune
Natalija tried to catch her balance but it was too late. Her hands gripped for empty air. Phryne flung herself forward, without falling herself, but held only on to a strain of blonde hair, as the girl vanished in the muddy waters. Cursing, Mrs. Robinson peeled her coat from her shoulders.
"Phryne, no!" she heard Jack yell, who was halfway down to the bank by now, but staring up at her without stopping to run. It was insanity to jump and a shot of adrenaline flooded the Lady Detective's veins. Seconds later the cold water closed around her body. Phryne spluttered, as the current of the Yarra took over her limbs. There was a blonde head bopping somewhat downstream. The two men were chasing along the bank, their coats fluttering in the wind. Phryne started swimming, fighting the chill invading her, numbing her. Dying herself would definitely not improve this day, she decided, pushing herself forward. A wave spilled over her head. The river was angry about the disturbance.
"Phryne!"
There was more shouting out there, other people had noticed the turmoil and had come to enjoy the show. But Jack's voice and the gurgling of water was all she could hear. There was the head again. Natalija had managed to grab onto something, maybe a rock, it didn't really matter. She was withstanding the pull of the water. Phryne got to her moments later. Her feet found the ground, while her arms grabbed for the girl, who was fighting to stay above the surface.
"Stop struggling," Phryne all but yelled, when she was hit in the face by a trashing arm. "I'd like us both to survive this!" Slowly, trying to keep her grip, she edged closer to the bank with the heavy weight of a squirming woman in her arms. She saw Jack running into the shallower waters, followed by Eddie. His clothes were soaked through, his steps slowed down by the Yarra, but he was battling his way towards her. Phryne mobilised her last strengths to propel both of them towards the approaching men. Natalija was sobbing now, but had given up the fight against her, and Phryne's sympathy for the girl returned. She hadn't willingly jumped, and Mrs. Robinson shouldn't feel quite so angry. But she was cold and grumpy now and there was still a meter that seperated her from Jack.
When she got close enough, she could see the tears in his eyes, but nevertheless, he took Natalija from her arms, together with Eddie dragging her to the bank where a horde of onlookers had collected by now.
"It's the little Nowak," someone said and excited mumbling was the answer. Phryne stepped out of the Yarra behind them almost unnoticed, water pouring from her clothes. Jack looked at her from where he was kneeling beside the young woman, then grabbed his discarded coat from the ground and wrapped it around his wife's shoulders, his hand resting a little longer on her than was strictly necessary. Phryne knew that he wouldn't give into his need to hold her until they'd get home. But right now that really was all she wanted. The sky had clouded over within the last half hour and a cold wind picked up, causing her to shiver. Natalija sat on the ground utterly quiet while the crowd of people surrounded them. Her eyes sought out her guardian and Phryne nodded, stepping between the curious neighbours.
"Alright. We will take it from here, thank you for your help!" she said, not without sarcasm. While they grumpily retreated, she nodded to Eddie, who helped his friend to her shaky feet and wrapped his coat around her. With a glance at her naked feet, he picked her up, carrying her. Natalija seemed too tired to protest. The two detectives stood for a moment, watching the retreating couple in silence.
"Don't you dare," Phryne said, glancing at the neighbours still scattered in close distance, hoping there would be more to be seen.
"As you wish," Jack grinned, offering her his arm. She took it and with as much dignity as her stockinged feet and shivering body allowed, Fanny Turner followed the bank of the Yarra back to Collins Bridge where she collected the rest of her clothing.
X
Hugh Collins sat in silence beside his wife on a hospital chair, waiting for the verdict. Finally, Doctor MacMillan entered.
"Even though there are a few worries, none of the ladies is in a critical state at this point in time," she said, leaning against her desk.
Hugh nodded.
"One will never have children," she stated after along moment of silence, trying to ignore the way Dot's hand automatically searched for her own bump as if to make sure it wasn't her. Instead the Doctor circled her desk and sat down.
"And I would like to keep all five here under surveillance for the time being. The hygiene in those places is mostly shocking and infections likely to develop."
Dot thought of one of the rusty instruments they had found in the bathroom and shuddered.
"Can I speak with them?" Constable Collins asked.
"You can make an attempt at it," Mac sighed. "But they likely won't talk to you. To be frank, Constable, I think you will be wasting your breath. Those women know if they are to admit that they have had an abortion, they will go to jail. Where would lie their motivation to speak?"
Hugh twisted his helmet on his lap.
"A young girl died! Surely they cannot just ignore that," Dot protested.
The Doctor shrugged.
"Most of these girls have families. Would you go to prison, leaving your husband and child to devastation, just to be a witness in a murder?"
Hugh glanced at his Dottie, who looked like someone had slapped her. Then she shook her head, hardly visible. Cleared her throat.
"No, I probably would not."
"See? Neither will those women. I am happy for you to speak to them, even though I would recommend you wait until tomorrow. They are tired and upset; Mrs. Binch is running a fever."
She glanced up from the papers she had been studying, looking at the police officer with something like pleading in her eyes. The Constable stiffly got to his legs.
"Thank you for your help, Doctor. I will see them in the morning."
In the door he turned.
"Oh and Doctor MacMillan, please make sure that they are still here for my return."
Mac smiled. So did Hugh, before an insistent hand dragged him out into the hallway.
X
Jack peeled himself out of his pants with some effort and hung them over the back of a chair. The fire crackled happily in the small wood-burning oven.
"So, what exactly holds you back from approaching her?" Jack asked the man who was changing beside him out of his own wet clothes. Eddie stopped in buttoning up one of Jack's spare shirts and looked at him, then turned away, when he realised that the Inspector was wearing little more than his undergarments at this stage.
"I don't follow," he grumbled, continuing to pull some socks over his freezing feet.
"Wrong way around," Jack pointed out with a knowing grin. Indistinct murmuring was the only answer he got for a long moment.
"Your attraction to Miss Nowak is more than obvious," he finally said casually, while buttoning up his pants. "My experience shows that there is very little use in denying such depth of feeling."
"Does it now?" Eddie murmured.
"Very much so."
The other half dressed man sank onto a chair, sighing in surrender.
"And what would it accomplish if I open my trap? My wife Sarah, she died in childbirth. So I have a little one at home and an old mother, who's half blind but takes care of the girl when I'm at work. Ya know betta than anyone that ya get not enough to live but too much to die at Willerson's. So, I can't afford to get married again or drag up another child. And that's even if she'd have me."
Frustrated, he got to his feet and pushed the chair in so hard that it smacked against the table. Jack had locked his arms over his chest, trying to protect himself from both, Wenbrock's anger and the wave of devastation he keenly felt.
"What if I could help?" he asked on impulse. Wenbrock looked at him quizzically.
"You? How could ya help then, Turner?"
Jack gulped. He hadn't thought this trough at all. Then he shrugged.
"I don't know. But we could find a way, given time..." He trailed off and cleared his throat.
"Do you want a cup of tea?" he asked in sudden resolve. Jack still hadn't talked to Phryne and feared that the scene in the river had endangered their cover enough as it was. Let alone the fact that Collins had seen them in an abortion racket. It was probably best to leave this one alone until they were out of here.
"You two don't belong here, do ya?" he heard a voice behind himself, when he grabbed for the teapot. Startled, Jack turned. There was a certain glitter in Eddie's eyes.
"You yelled her name before, repeatedly. Phryne."
"It's just a nickname," Jack tried to lie, knowing that there was no point. He cursed himself for having lost his head when she had vanished in the muddy waters.
"Oh, don't take me for a fool, Turner. I recognised her. And she lied to my face."
The Inspector fiddled with the teapot, unsure what to say. To his surprise the other man laughed.
"Don't worry, your secret's save with me."
The Inspector was still feverishly searching for words.
"Look, we are-"
But Eddie shook his head.
"Don't wanna know, mate. Don't wanna know. Whatever yer up to, it's none of my business. You dragged Natalija out of the river. I owe ya for that. But Cromms was there at the Yarra, he's heard it too. I'd worry 'bout him, if I was you. He can't keep his trap shut about anythin' much."
Jack was suddenly feeling hot. A trickle of sweat ran down his cheek and he decided to step away from the stove and set the still empty teapot on the table.
"I wonder what they are doing in there," he said, willing the bedroom door to open.
"It's women, mate. They take a while to get dressed," Eddie grinned. Jack sat down, tapping his fingers onto the wooden tabletop. While he made small talk with his co-worker, his thoughts were racing. He had stupidly blown their cover. What would they do now?
Meanwhile, Phryne had just finished helping a reluctant Natalija into a dry set of clothing and had sat the silent woman onto the edge of the bed she shared with Jack, to get changed herself. Unbottoning her skirt, she noticed a shape in her pocket and pulled a soaked envelope from it, dripping muddy water onto the floor. She had actually intended to return the letter after reading it. That seemed out of the question. Glancing at Natalija, she decided that the exhausted girl didn't care and laid the piece onto her night stand. She couldn't have been more wrong.
"What are you doing with that?" Natalija asked, suddenly very much awake and also very angry. "That's mine!"
Phryne smiled, dropping her soaked blouse on the floor while shivering in the cool air.
"Yes, it is. I told you that we were looking for you."
"And ya thought ya'd find me in an envelope?" the girl sniped.
Mrs. Robinson didn't answer straight away. She thought about how to tackle this obviously delicate subject while picking out fresh clothes. There weren't many options, she noticed with concern and her intended washing day had been thwarted by their search for Natalija.
"I thought that I might find a hint as to your whereabouts, if I figure out why you keep a stack of anonymous letters in your drawer," she stated carefully, sitting down beside the young woman. That wasn't the whole truth of course, but Phryne couldn't exactly explain to her the details of her curiosity. Natalija pondered her words for a long time.
"I don't know, who they're from," she finally offered. Phryne nodded.
"What does he write?"
There was a little, traitorous smile spreading over Natalija's lips, as she recalled, completely oblivious to Phryne's choice of words.
"Just... things. Lovely things. I thought at first that Frank had written them. But he got really angry when I showed him. Called me names."
She swallowed, staring at her hands.
"He's said he can't marry me after that. Like it's my fault that I get letters."
Mrs. Robinson grasped for Natalija's fingers.
"I don't think a man who truly planned a future with you had been deterred by a bunch of letters you received," Phryne pointed out in her most gentle voice.
The other woman looked up, nodding grimly.
"That's what ya get for bein' blind and stupid. Gramps warned me. And now I'm stuck in the family way and Eddie knows and he's gonna tell Gramps and..."
There were tears threatening to emerge again and Phryne took a firmer grasp on the hand in hers, stroking a lock of ash blonde hair from the girls cheek.
"Listen, Natalija. Eddie won't betray you. He cares for you."
"How do you know?" the girl asked, unable to completely hide a telling smile.
"I just do. Call it intuition if you must," Phryne lied. There was silence for a long moment.
"Look, maybe I can help you," the Lady Detective said. A pair of muddy green-grey eyes stared at her questioningly.
"How do you mean...?"
"I'm a very resourceful woman," Phryne quipped, getting to her feet. "And I will come up with something."
There was no answer; just a nod that was almost toosubtle to notice.
X
Inspector Morgan smiled mildly. The two women kept arguing. Stella Campbell and her sister-in-law, a Mrs. Marlene Gillam had been solid at it for more than ten minutes. Of course, neither of them had ever heard about a woman being aborted in their house, but they couldn't quite figure out if they knew Helen Kerby or not. Their husbands, both sitting in a cell of City South at this point in time, had never heard of her and in difference to the current occupants of the interviewing room, the Inspector believed them. They probably did not care too much about where the money came from they lived off. That they hadn't noticed what Nurse Campbell had been doing in their bathroom was highly unlikely or that they had never wondered where the women in their random bedrooms were coming from. But they probably wouldn't have been curious enough to ask Helen for her name. Mrs. Campbell might not have been either. Mrs. Gilliam on the other hand...
The Inspector cleared his throat.
"Constable?" he asked in a low voice that went unheard.
"Constable!" he repeated, in his usual singsong. Jones jerked awake from a daydream.
"Sir?"
"Would you please escort Mrs. Campbell back to her cell?"
When both women rose he lifted his hand, making a calming gesture.
"Only you, Mrs. Campbell, please. I'd like a private word with your sister-in-law."
The two women looked at each other, both confused and worried.
"I'll see you later, Marlene," Nurse Campbell said. It sounded like a threat. The Inspector waited until the door had closed.
"There is nothing I have to say," Mrs. Gillam protested, before he had a chance to utter a word. Morgan nodded.
"You know, I believe that Mrs. Campbell was trying to do a good thing," he said gently. The woman's face spoke clearly to him. She was not convinced of her sister-in-law's charity. "These are hard times," Inspector Morgan went on in an almost serene tone. "And there are many desperate women out there."
He watched the heavy gulp in the throat of his opposite and waited. But Mrs. Gillam stayed quiet.
"Maybe women like her are really saints," he said, smiling mildly, "relieving women of their troubles, doing the good thing."
Marlene Gillam slowly turned a darker shade, looking like she was going to explode soon. But still she stayed silent. When the Inspector finally opened his mouth to push further, she burst out with an almost hysteric laugh.
"She sure did relieve the women. Mostly of their savings. A true saint she is."
Marlene closed her mouth, looking shocked at herself. Inspector Morgan smiled mildly, circling his prey. The woman stared at her fingers, they were clasped together, moving nervously. When she spoke again, her voice had changed to an almost whisper.
"I think she probably did mean well, when she started. You know, there are so many girls out there. It's easy for the churches to preach that it's all a gift of god. But you can't love them, if you can't feed them."
The officer nodded, unwilling to interrupt her, but she seemed done. He had noted the tears glittering in Gillam's eyes. So, it wasn't all just money.
"You helped her?" he asked after a break.
The woman shrugged.
"I'm not a nurse or a midwife. I just kept an eye on the girls when she was done with her procedures, kept them company, fed them, alarmed her when things went awry."
"As they did with Helen Kerby?"
A hint of defiance returned.
"What makes you so certain that she came to Stella? She isn't the only one, you know-"
"We found this necklace in Mrs. Campbells belongings."
The Inspector tipped a thin string of silver with a small, blackened pendant from a paper bag onto the tabletop. Marlene reached out her fingertips to touch it, then pulled her hand back as if she had been burned.
"It was Miss Kerby's. She had received it as a gift from her grandmother for her 13th birthday," Inspector Morgan explained quietly. Mrs. Gillam didn't answer, just stared at the cheap piece of jewellery.
"I knew that her greed would someday break our neck," she finally whispered. She drew a deep breath into her lungs, again reaching out for the necklace. Morgan let her. He guessed that it was quite impossible that she could tamper with the evidence right in front of his eyes.
"She wore it when she walked through the door, a young girl, quite pretty and very determined that she needed to get rid of her problem. She and Stella almost caused a scene, when she didn't have enough money but wouldn't leave. Handed over the necklace, but of course..." Marlene smiled thinly. "...this isn't worth much." She dropped the silver onto the wooden surface.
"Stella finally agreed to do the procedure, probably more to get her peace. I'm not sure if her reluctance made her less careful, I don't understand anything of it. But the girl was bleeding quite heavily. Stella managed to stop it, but half an hour later I found the girl in pain and soaked in her own blood, half unconscious. But she was still insulting me." A thin smile accompanied the bitter memories. "We carried her back to the bathroom, tried again. We must have been in there an hour. But she just wouldn't stop bleeding. Something about the baby being stuck."
Mrs. Gillam trailed off, wrapped the necklace around her fingers. She seemed reluctant to continue, but the Inspector wasn't going to give her any more. He just waited. And, as expected, she spoke only little later.
"I held her hand when she passed. There was nothing I could do. Just feed her brandy and wait for her to die. Stella... I think she might have been scrubbing the blood from the bathroom. "
Morgan nodded.
"I don't think she didn't care," Marlene said, choking back tears. "She's just not good with things like that."
"So, it wasn't the first time?" the Inspector asked. Mrs. Gillam winced.
"Not the first time things went wrong. The first time, the girl died while she was still in the house," she finally admitted.
"Why didn't you call a doctor?" he asked.
"I wanted to... but Stella told me, they aren't miracle workers either. And..." she rubbed her cold hands together, finally letting go of the necklace. "...I am scared of gaol."
Morgan leaned back in his chair, trying to sort through his thoughts. Marlene Gillam was not a bad woman. Probably even Stella Campbell wasn't a monster. They had provided a dangerous service to desperate women and they had lived well from it. Yet, he wasn't certain if locking them up really made the world a better place. There were people in the world who couldn't afford morals. Many of them lived in places like Fitzroy and Collingwood. And shutting down Nurse Campbell would likely only make room for someone else to fill the void. Morgan sighed. He loved his job, but there were days where he felt like Don Quixote, fighting wind mills.