15

At 9:00 am, the Russell Street desk constable escorted Jack and Phryne into the Commissioner's office. Deputy Commissioner Edwards stood behind Bollinger, eyes gleaming and a lethal smile skirting his lips.

Bollinger gestured for Jack and Phryne to sit. His aversion to Phryne's attendance at the meeting radiated off him, but he only said, "Inspector. What progress have you made on the case?"

Jack bobbed his head. "We have a suspect in custody. And thanks to Miss Fisher's efforts, a full confession for not only the attempted murder of us but also the murders of Carlisle, Edwards, Crossley, and O'Shaughnessy."

Bollinger blinked. "Attempted murder?"

Jack briefed Bollinger and Edwards on the pursuit and capture a few hours ago, but omitted the perpetrator's name.

"You were indeed very brave, Miss Fisher." The words were torn from Bollinger's lips with a grudging respect.

But Phryne took them as graciously as if they'd been a laud from the king himself. "Thank you, Commissioner. I assure you, Inspector Robinson shares in your praise."

Edwards propped one hand on his hip and leaned on Bollinger's desk, lording his bulk toward them. "And just who is this suspect you have in custody, Robinson? Some ragamuffin off the street so you can save your position?"

Phryne's smile turned feral, but this time Jack didn't stop her. "No, that would be your tactic, Deputy Commissioner Edwards. You are, after all, the final piece in this puzzle."

"Me?" He stepped back, trying to appear outraged. "What are you going on about, woman?"

Jack sat straighter, drawing Edwards's eye. "We checked all of the transfer orders of these officers. You signed off on every single one before you were promoted to Deputy Commissioner."

"So, what if I did? I was the Commander of Police Personnel. I signed off on many transfer requests during my time there."

A gleam lit Phryne's eyes, a hound on the scent. "Ah, but these weren't just any transfers. You knew O'Shaughnessy and the others had rushed closing the O'Rourke murder. They pushed Sully Murphy as his killer with only circumstantial evidence of him holding a bloody knife. He was innocent, but you stood by and let him be arrested and convicted so you could avoid more accusations of police corruption and public riots. You moved the officers as soon as you could, getting your nephew a promotion as well. A promotion which he botched on his first investigation as senior constable."

Bollinger swiveled in his seat, piercing Edwards with a wary look. "Is this true?"

Jack held his breath. They had no hard evidence of the reason for the transfers, but Phryne was an excellent poker player. Would Edwards call her bluff?

Edwards's eyes narrowed, daggers shooting from their dark depths. His jaw worked around a silent reply.

Phryne merely lifted an eyebrow.

"Edwards," Bollinger commanded. "Is this true?"

Breath rushed from Edwards in an aggravated huff. "All right. Yes, it's true."

Jack swallowed his relief, keeping his face a complete mask even as he wanted to break into a huge grin.

"Sanderson was cleaning out the brothels, but there were enoughrumors going round. Rumors that were later confirmed, mind you, when Hall suddenly resigned. My first assignment as Commander in Police Personnel was to clean up the constabulary's image. If word got out that two officers of City North were gambling in the Dark Rose, then the public would be in an uproar. So yes, when the dock worker stabbing happened, I told O'Shaughnessy to close the case quick. We needed an arrest to improve public opinion."

Jack studied Edwards for a long moment. "Covering up Crossley and Carlisle's gambling was a side benefit."

Edwards nodded. "I ordered them to work this case, not ask questions, and keep their noses clean. If they did, I wouldn't put a letter of censure in their files. Carlisle jumped at the chance for a fresh start—he really was decent kid. Crossley knew which side his bread was buttered on."

Phryne's eyes narrowed as she glanced to Jack. They silently agreed. Something is still missing. "There's more isn't there, Deputy Commissioner?"

He turned on his heel and let loose a virulent curse. "After Murphy was convicted and jailed, another dock worker came forward with information about who really killed O'Rourke. Said it was someone from his own ship. He saw the man stab him and shove the knife in Murphy's hands. The ship had already set sail during the trial, taking the actual murderer with it."

Edwards ran a trembling hand through his thinning hair. "O'Shaughnessy brought the information to me." He shifted a pleading look to Bollinger. "I said we needed to reopen the case, even get Murphy released. But then the riot happened, and he was killed.

"If word got out that we'd not only arrested an innocent man, but he'd been killed in jail, there was no telling what the public reaction would be. I couldn't help Murphy, but I could do whatever it took to keep the constabulary's reputation from taking another hit."

Bollinger's voice gained a dangerous edge. "So you covered up the evidence and transferred the officers so they wouldn't question what had happened?"

Edwards's head hung, shame stooping his shoulders. "Everything I did was for the constabulary. To protect us all."

Bollinger turned to Jack and Phryne. "So who do you have in custody for the murders of Carlisle, Edwards, Crossley, and O'Shaughnessy."

Jack squared his shoulders, preparing himself for Bollinger's likely reaction. "Assistant Director Roger Goodall."

"Excuse me?" Bollinger sputtered. "I told you at the ball, that is an awful prank, Inspector."

Phryne leaned forward, jumping in to defend Jack. "It's no prank. Goodall is Sully Murphy's half-brother. He was avenging his brother's incarceration and death." She leveled a dark stare on Edwards. "And I'm sure if he had known you had covered up the real killer's identity, you would have been his next target."

Edwards blanched, but said nothing.

Jack nodded. "He's made a full confession for all of the murders, Commissioner. We also have the knife he used—a knife that is regularly issued to the Shanghai Municipal Police officers upon completion of their specialized training in knife fighting."

Bollinger sagged in his chair, his golden plan to bring Goodall into the Victorian constabulary laying shattered in front of him. At length, he waved his hand. "Thank you, Inspector. I will handle everything from here. And I can guarantee you, there will be no further cover up—no matter what happens with public opinion."

"And Jack's position at City South?"

Jack smothered his smile at the warning that edged Phryne's question. She was old friends with Lord Mayor Luxton and new friends with the Turners. She wouldn't hesitate to go straight to the top to protect his position now that he'd followed through on Bollinger's orders.

Bollinger rose and extended his hand to Jack. "You will continue as you have, Detective Inspector."

Jack shook the Commissioner's hand, then released it. He gestured for Phryne to precede him out the door, but before they left, he paused. Gaining Bollinger's eye, he said, "Before we go, Commissioner Bollinger, I need to apprise you that I've named Miss Fisher a special constable of City South. I assume given her excellent detective work and commitment to always finding the truth no matter where it leads, you will have no issues with her continuing in this position?"

Bollinger grimaced and moved to object, but Jack shot a speaking look toward the Deputy Commissioner then raised his eyebrows.

Bollinger paled, finally nodding. "The position is unpaid. And she must be supervised by you at all times when investigating."

Jack's lips flinched into the slightest smile, though triumph rushed through him. "Of course, Commissioner."

Phryne eyes lit at the victory and her lips twitched, ready to crow. Jack shook his head, cutting off any retort she might reply. They had won and won big. No need for scuttling their own ship just to have the last word.

Her gaze softened with understanding. Jack reached around her to open the door, leaving Bollinger to deal with Edwards however he saw fit.

Jack offered Phryne his arm as they left Russell Street station and headed for the Hispano parked a few yards down the street.

She tugged on his arm, drawing his gaze and beaming a delighted smile. "Special Constable Phryne Fisher. That has such a lovely ring." Her gaze grew serious, despite the teasing light lurking in the depths. "But Jack, don't even dream I'll wear one of those constabulary uniforms. Not even if you handcuff me."

Jack's lips twitched as he continued their walk. "Actually, the constabulary doesn't provide uniforms for their female constables."

Phryne stumbled against him in surprise. "What?"

Her outraged shriek released his lips into a full grin. "No doubt, that will be your next crusade for women's rights."

"No doubt, indeed," came her tart reply.

They walked in silence until they reached the Hispano. He opened the driver's side door, but she only turned to face him. Sliding her hands along his tuxedo's lapels, she lifted a contented, loving gaze toward him. "Jack, what do you have planned for today since the investigation is complete?"

Without any teasing lurking in her tone, he gave it serious consideration. "Truthfully, I hadn't wanted to think beyond the meeting with Bollinger, given the possible outcome." He met her soft gaze, raising his eyebrows. "Why?"

Her fingers played with his ebony studs, teasing his senses, but she remained serious. "Well, now that we are officially official with both your circle and mine, why don't we head to your bungalow and see what remains to bring to Wardlow?"

His jaw dropped as he inhaled a quick, stunned breath. Was she suggesting what it sounded like she was suggesting?

She grinned, joy and love glowing in her gray eyes. Leaning up, she brushed her lips against his, then breathed against them, "Move in with me, Jack."

He shook his head, trying to settle the reality of her request in his whirling mind. "It's only been a week. Are you certain?"

She ran a hand up his lapel to cup his cheek, her thumb brushing the high bone. Her voice low and soothing, she asked, "Jack, aren't you?"

His heart swelled with love and peace. Yes, completely and hopelessly and utterly certain.

He wrapped an arm around her waist, set his mouth against hers, and poured every bit of the love he felt into the caress. When he pulled back, both were breathless, but he somehow found the air to say, "I couldn't be more certain."