Chapter 27: Eris

"...While he attempted to end the struggle, the Inspector's wound broke open and he collapsed shortly after. You are correct that there is mostly other officer's handwriting on the protocols, Mr. Boyd – as Inspector Robinson was unconscious at the time they were drawn up."

Silence had fallen over the court room, as breathes were held.

"He was back at the Station only two days later. So, whatever you want to say about Inspector Robinson, he is a strong, a honourable police officer, who didn't shy away from prosecuting your client, despite knowing that he was walking in danger. And Mrs. Browning and her family very nearly succeeded in murdering him in his line of duty."

Hugh paused, gulped. Struggled for words that had come so easily in the last minutes.

"So, if you ask me again, Sir, if I hold the Inspector dear, the answer is: yes, I do. He is a superior officer I admire and a man I am proudly calling a friend and if this court decides to let this woman walk, then I do not wish to have failed speaking up against it. It is unjust!"

Hugh looked at his wife who, to his confusion, was crying. More handkerchiefs had been pulled from pockets over the last few minutes. A nose was blown audibly. He turned to glance at Judge Banks, who hadn't shed a tear in 20 years and wasn't about to start now, but gave him a slight nod.

'Well done, son,' was written across his features. Abraham Banks enjoyed his justice and despised men like Boyd, who would sell the world anything for the truth if it could fetch the right price. A few people in the back scribbled happily into their notebooks. The press hadn't wanted to miss the last act of the play. They had not quite expected it to be so heart-wrenching. Yet, Hugh couldn't help but feel like he had spilled a secret that hadn't been his to tell. And there remained a niggling fear in the back of his mind.

He got to his feet, dismissing himself from the hearing and approached Sanderson.

"Where are they?" he whispered. The Chief Commissioner bit back any comment on the lack of a greeting.

"Our man was supposed to inform them, but we cannot get a hold of him."

Hugh felt his heart sink. His eyes locked onto Dottie's, while Boyd began the rest of his spiel. But the Constable was suddenly not very interested anymore in the ending of this play. They needed to find the Robinsons!

X

The rusty key fell onto the ground, slipping into a crack. Cursing, Phryne bent down to fish it out. Seconds later her hands finally managed to open the door. It was silent and cold in the small cottage. Jack must be deeply asleep. At least that was what she was trying to convince herself of. Nobody could have already reached him, she had ran as fast as her legs would carry her. But when she stepped into the bedroom, her heart stopped.

The tangled sheets were still lying the way they had been left. She felt for Jack's side. It was cold. Phryne sank on the edge of the bed, her heart racing. A thousand thoughts restlessly spun through her head. Her husband's things were still strewn across the bedroom, so he hadn't left – not that he would have after a single argument. Which meant, something else had happened to him. Had Gabler's men found him even before her mad dash? Or had his fever taken a turn for the worse and it had become necessary for him to see a doctor? Getting up, Phryne's eyes caught on a piece of paper, sitting on her night stand.

"Have gone to work. Will talk tonight."

Phryne stared at the two sentences for a long moment. Then the oil lamp flew against the wall, shattering into a hundred pieces.

X

Jack was beyond wondering if he had made a good decision, by the time he settled with his beer on a table in the corner of the bar. His head was glowing, which made for an interesting contrast to his frozen feet. But he had come here for a reason and he would follow through on his plan. If he had drawn Phryne's wrath onto himself, he would prefer to at least have some defence that could withstand her first blow. And finding the Grog Baron was the most likely way to escape being strangled by her, he concluded. If she had even returned yet from her own dangerous mission.

His heart lay heavily in his chest when, after clinking his glasses with his fellow workers, Jack set the drink to his lips. He found a second later that Oliver Cromms was laughing at him.

"Turner, you drink like a girl, C'mon, finish. I'll buy the next round."

Indeed, the men around him had already drained their glasses. Hurriedly Jack poured the ale down his raw throat, hoping to God that he wouldn't get himself a hangover. Right now he could hardly imagine how he could feel any worse, but he was certain that his body knew better and wouldn't hesitate to prove it.

The Inspector's head was already swimming, but he had joined into the pointless chattering when the second beer was shoved into his hand. This one went down easier. Cromms seemed to have too much money tonight and Jack had almost forgotten about being worried by the third. They would be all right. Phryne was probably home waiting for him. He just needed to steer the talk into the right direction. He dropped his voice.

"So, where do you get a drink here after hours?"

Miller laughed.

"Lookin' at ya, Turner, I think yer gonna have enough after six to last ya the night."

"Quite easily," Mike answered, grinning, between two deep sips of beer. "There is a backyard pub in Ballarat Street. Little Jacob is pouring out his grog there."

Jack blinked slowly. It seemed almost too easy. But Nicholson grumbled from where he had been sitting silently over his beer.

"Tough stuff though that the kid's brewing. Nothing for a half man."

"Are ya sayin', he's a half man?" Miller laughed.

"Can't take a lot, from the look of it."

Jack felt hot flashes race through his body. He didn't feel right.

"Who's 'Little Jacob'?" he asked nevertheless, berating himself for not listening to Phryne.

"I wouldn't ask too much, if I was you," Cromms prompted. "That kinda questions can get ya into trouble fast 'round here, Turner."

He looked at Jack, who was pale and sweating heavily, setting down his glass without drinking.

"Turner? You right?"

Cromms nudged him gently in the side. Jack was swaying like a leaf in the breeze.

"Think I need some fresh air," he mumbled, barely audible.

"C'mon then, lets get you out of here," his co-worker prompted, wrapping the Inspectors arm around himself and dragging him, under the laughter of the rest of the group, outside where he leaned him heavily against the wall. Darkness had set in and Cromms lit himself a cigarette, inspecting the ashen Turner with interest.

"You really can't take a lot, can ya?" he asked.

Jack didn't answer. He was concentrating on breathing, while trying to sort his spinning thoughts. The Inspector had never been a lightweight when it came to alcohol and even three and a half beers in barely 20 minutes shouldn't have this effect on him. Although he hadn't felt well, this wasn't right, his fuzzy brain pointed out. He pushed himself away from the wall. "Who's 'Little Jacob'?" he heard himself ask. The slurring voice didn't sound like his own.

"Damn persistent ya are. Just keep your mouth shut," Cromms said, throwing the rest of his cigarette away. "I'd better get ya home, don't I?"

He tried to peel Jack Turner from the wall, but found himself suddenly being grabbed by the collar.

"What have you put in my drink?" Jack asked with his last strength, making a weak attempt at shaking his co-worker without keeling over. A pair of confused eyes stared back at him, when suddenly something wet was pressed on his face from behind.

A pair of arms was holding him upright, while Jack struggled in vain against inhaling the sickly sweet vapours.

"Welcome to hell, Inspector," a rough voice whispered beside his ear, before the world faded away.

X

Albert stared at the woman who was restlessly pacing through his kitchen while angrily mumbling to herself. She would wear a hole into the floorboards, he was certain. He had grasped as much as that she wasn't happy with her husbands disappearance, but why exactly, he couldn't tell. There were no nasty colds in the spider's world and also no disagreements about abortions or distress about sly-grog traders.

Phryne was burning in anger. How dare Jack just dismiss her worry, despite the obvious danger attached?! A voice of reason reminded her that he had learned from the best.

The detective told herself firmly to calm down. He would be just fine – up to the moment she got her hands on him at least. But a look at the clock called her a liar. It was half past five and he still hadn't returned. He shouldn't be this long. Another round through the kitchen. A knock tore her from her dark pondering and caused her heart to leap in relief. But before she could reach the door, she thought better of it and grasped for the gun lying on the kitchen table. While she expected Jack, you couldn't know how fast Gabler's men worked.

"What on earth...?"

She trailed off. The man in front of her door was neither of the men she had expected. Eddie looked rather flustered, while he stared in shock at her hand. Phryne realised that she was still aiming her weapon at him and let it sink. Glancing outside, she pulled her friend into the kitchen by the arm.

"Have you seen Jack?" she asked, ignoring the obvious discomfort of the man.

"That's why I came, Phryne. I think he might be making a mistake."

Mrs. Robinson slammed the door shut and turned to him.

"What do you mean?"

"He went out for drinks at the 'Glasshouse' with the lads tonight," Eddie said, not daring to look at her. "I tried to warn him, but he wouldn't listen."

Phryne stepped closer to her childhood friend. Despite being a head smaller and having returned her gun to the table, she seemed suddenly very threatening. Wenbrock took an instinctive step backwards, then glanced at the walls as if it had ears.

"Carter. I think he could be one of Little Jacob's men," he whispered.

"Little Jacob?" Phryne repeated slowly, the wheels in her head turning.

"He's quite notorious around here," Eddie explained quietly. "Some say he's somehow attached to the Browning's." When she just stared at him, he continued. "That gangster family they threw in prison last year when they took a shot at the Commissioner and that Policeman..." His eyes widened almost comically in sudden shock. "Oh dear God, he's Jack, isn't he? Ya two were all over the papers. He's Jack Robinson?!"

His voice had grown loud in excitement, all care forgotten, but Phryne wasn't paying any attention to him. She was already fishing for her hat.

"Eddie, listen! You get yourself a cab and to the City South Police Station. Ask for Hugh Collins. Tell him, it's Gabler's and to talk to Sanderson right now! Tell them everything you know, everything! I will get you the best legal representation if needed, but you don't leave anything out!"

Eddie couldn't protest, he just nodded, whilst Phryne fished for her gun and shoved some money into his hands. It was way too much for a cab fare, but it didn't matter.

"Whatever ya want, Phryne, but what are ya doin'?"

"I will go find Jack! God help Carter if he as much as touched him!"

The door fell shut behind the Lady Detective a moment later and Eddie stared after his disappearing friend, before he set out to find his way to a police station.

X

"Hugh, what's happening?"

Both Sanderson and Collins looked up from where they had been arguing, when Dottie stormed through the door to Jack's office, dragging Jane in behind herself. The Chief Commissioner cleared his throat loudly.

"This is a police investigation, Mrs. Collins. It is not appropriate to share information at this stage."

A moment later it became apparent that he had made a mistake, as Dot pulled herself to her full height.

"I will have you know, Commissioner Sanderson, that I am the assistant of Mrs. Robinson and currently the Guardian of their daughter, so if there is anything there is to know, it is my right to know it!"

"That's just it. There is nothing to know, Dottie," Hugh said quietly, watching Sanderson raise his eyebrows at him. "We don't know where they are."

"Our contact man in Collingwood has disappeared. And the men we sent out found their cottage empty," Sanderson explained, bending to the pressure. He had experienced in the past that trying to argue with Miss Fisher or any of her family members was a futile exercise. He might as well not waste time.

"You lost them!? How on earth can you lose two detectives during an appointment?!"

The angry words were addressed at Sanderson. A staring match proceeded when suddenly Jane tugged her hand free.

"Could you please stop arguing!" she asked, panting. "Those are my parents you are talking about. Why aren't you out there, searching for them?"

Hugh grabbed the girl by the shoulders, looking at her with all the sincerity he could muster in his eyes.

"We are, Jane. We got more than ten men out there, searching the neighbourhood right now."

Jane knew that he was telling the truth, but it didn't comfort her. She wanted to ask what would happen if they couldn't find them, but didn't dare. The brief knock at the door distracted them, leaving her no time to reply. A red head of hair was stuck through the gap.

"Ah, the cavalry is here," Mac stated dryly, when her eyes fell on the collection of people in the crowded room. "I just wanted to inform you that Mrs. Binch didn't make it, Constable."

Hugh briefly forgot about their mission.

"What happened?"

"I'm afraid, the infection got out of hand, we couldn't get the fever under control. Poor woman didn't stand a chance."

The doctor stifled a yawn.

"But now, please excuse me, I've been on my legs for 30 hours and currently don't have enough brain space to even meet this with the appropriate sorrow."

She pulled the door shut behind herself before any of the people in the room could react. Hugh ran a set of fingers through his hair, dishevelling himself, which was met by a disapproving look from his wife. Then the door opened again.

"What exactly is going on?" Mac asked, suddenly appearing wide awake.

Hugh shook his head slowly, trying to shake off the words he wanted to yell.

"Nothing you need to concern yourself with, Doctor."

Sanderson tried himself on a thin smile. He had also made the acquaintance of Doctor MacMillan before.

"Don't take me for a fool. The Commissioner is standing in Jack's office and you all look like someone shot your cat!" Mac pointed out, stepping into the room. It was too much for Jane.

"They've lost Phryne and Jack!" the girlcried, throwing herself against the Doctor's chest. Instinctively Mac wrapped her arms around her friend'ssobbing ward, while staring a thunderstorm at Sanderson.

"There had better be a very good explanation for this," she growled. Her voice could have cut glass on a cold day.

"Collins, there is a..."

Bert froze in the door, when he stared at a visibly annoyed Commissioner Sanderson.

"How is it possible, that Miss Fisher's whole family storms this office the very minute something goes wrong?"

"We are well organised," Mac stated dryly, handing her handkerchief to Jane and tugging a wet lock of hair behind the girl's ear.

"What's gone wrong?" Cec asked from behind his colleague. He was ignored.

"We picked up a man, who says he's been sent by Miss... Mrs. Robinson," Bert said, not trying to hide his disgust at his employer having married a copper.

"What are you waiting for then? Get him in here!" Dot exclaimed, all but shoving the Cabbies aside to get a look at the mystery man.

Sanderson raised his hands.

"Despite the collected disregard for procedure in this room, I have to insist that this is a police matter. The Inspector is an officer after all. So, can we please get the ladies home?"

Dot wanted to protest, but bit her lip when she looked at Jane, whose eyes were puffy and red. Hugh looked like he wanted to burst into tears as well, but she knew that he would do anything in his power to get the Inspector and Mrs. Phryne back home. There was little they could attempt until they had found more information and crowding around a single man wouldn't help. She nodded at Mac, who appeared also conflicted.

"Under one condition," the Doctor said while leading Jane towards the door. "You will inform us the very minute you find out anything new."

"While I do in general not accept conditions attached to the cooperation of civilians, Doctor MacMillan, I will personally inform you if anything of importance occurs," Sanderson agreed, his jaw clenched. "But now, please, let us do our jobs."

The women left, followed by the grumbling Cabbies. Seconds later, a flustered man was led into the room by a young Constable with red hair.

"He says, he's got information on Robinson," Constable Dahle stated, leaving no doubt about his thoughts on the matter. Sanderson nodded.

"Thank you, Constable. Please close the door on your way out."

The man withdrew, leaving Wenbrock alone with two angry looking police officers. Eddie had a distinct feeling that his day wasn't about to improve.