Love and Death in the Constabulary
By Felicia Ferguson
Author's Note: There have been so many lovely stories written of Jack's going after Phryne and what could have followed. However, I really enjoyed seeing them where they were at the end of Game, Set, & Murder. So I got to thinking, what if Death Do Us Part didn't go quite like it did on the show? What if Phryne stayed rather than flying off with Henry? And what would be a good case for the newly mated swallows to investigate? Follows my first fanfic, Deep as the Pacific, which is now set after Game, Set, & Murder. I'd love to hear back from you, if you're so minded. Cheers!
Obviously, I own none of the characters. But I am enjoying playing in this sandbox!
1
"You there! Stop!" The youthful voice cracked Collingwood's damp night air, echoing off the alley's brick walls and cobblestone streets.
Scuffling feet, hushed voices, then silence followed the command.
A young man of about twenty stepped into the street light, the gold buttons of his constable coat shining like coins in a treasure box. He stared down the alley, eyes searching but not finding the jewelry-toting miscreant. "Must have ducked into a hole somewhere or other." He slid his nightstick back into his belt and peeked around wooden shipping boxes and barrels, searching for the culprit's hideout.
Something shifted behind him. He turned. Eyes widened, he gasped as something thin and sharp sliced through his coat and sank in between his ribs. Feet scuffled away, pattering against the cobblestone. Words formed but didn't fall. He gripped the knife hilt, wanting to pull it out. But a breath later, he dropped to the stone, then into nothingness.
Jack woke slowly, savoring the new familiarity of Phryne's lavender-scented satin sheets tucked along his waist. The woman herself snuggled against his chest, her breathing soft and even. Three nights and two days had melted away since the end of her tennis tournament and their long overdue conversation—one that had included assurances of undeniable love and hinted at a lifetime of togetherness.
He smoothed his knuckles along her back, his mouth kicking up in a smile as she hummed her pleasure. "Morning, love."
She swept her cheek against his chest murmuring something that might have been a response. He hadn't been surprised to discover his love was not an early riser. When he'd commented on it their first morning waking up together, she'd given him a patented arched look and replied, "I don't eat worms anyway."
Jack chuckled at the memory and brushed a kiss against her dark cap of hair. He inhaled deeply, satisfaction weighing warm and heavy on him. "Phryne, it's Monday. I need to be at the station soon."
She shifted, tightening her arms about him. "No, as your Special Constable, I order you to stay here with me for the day."
Jack grinned, tipping her face up to buss her nose then her lips. "I hate to remind you that not only are you now retired from that position, but you didn't have any authority over me while you were in it."
Phryne's mouth widened in a slow, knowing smirk. "Oh, I believe I have more authority than you realize."
He growled, flipping her over and delighting in the darkening of her eyes. "I—"
A knock on the door silenced his next words and ended their play. Rolling back to his previous position, he tucked the bed linens around them both. Phryne shot him a longing look, but only called, "Come in, Mr. B."
Mr. Butler curved through the door, carrying a silver tray laden with breakfast. He set it at the foot of the bed, his bland expression either absorbing or ignoring the clothing that littered the floor. "Is everything to your liking, Miss? Inspector?"
Phryne beamed. "It's perfect. Thank you, Mr. B."
Jack murmured his agreement, and Mr. Butler nodded with a slight approving smile. The door shut softly behind him, and Jack took in a deep, appreciative breath. His stomach rumbled at the lovely scents of omelets and fresh coffee.
Phryne's soft hand slipped up his arm, drawing his gaze. She pressed a lingering kiss to his lips. "Don't tell me Mr. B's culinary skills have pre-empted my attraction."
Jack snagged another kiss before pulling away. "Never. But I believe a retrenching is needed at this time." He chuckled and dropped his eyes to her chest. "To prepare for my next campaign."
"I must concede to your logic, Inspector. I'm rather more than peckish myself after last night." She flashed him a teasing smile, but focused on buttering a piece of toast. She took a bite, then offered the rest to him.
Jack munched as he studied their tray, laden with two omelets, toast, a carafe of café au lait, and the morning newspaper. "I should write this in my journal." Jack mumbled around his mouthful.
Her eyes widened in delight. "Oh, do tell. I should love to be an entry in your journal."
"I assure you, you already have more than one."
"As it should be." Phryne grinned, forked off a hefty serving of her omelet, and tucked the bite between her lips. The next bite she offered to him. He took it, trading her a turn at his toast. They fed each other in silence until only crumbs remained on her porcelain plates.
Settling back against the headboard, café au lait in hand, peace like he'd never known with Rosie slipped through him. The coming days, months, and dare-he-hoped lifetime spread out, a dream within reach and one he readily grasped.
Phryne must have read his mind as she leaned into him for a lingering, loving kiss. Her eyes lit with their own peace and promise.
He would do everything in his power to ensure their future was never a cage to her. "Love you," he murmured against her lips.
"Mmmm, yes." She pulled away, her smile soft, and tucked her head against his shoulder. "I still believe you should take the day off. Certainly, the Melbourne underworld can behave just a little while longer."
He took a sip of his coffee, then opened the paper, spreading it out over both of their laps.
CONSTABLE MURDERED IN COLLINGWOOD ALLEY
The headline glared at them above a formal photo of the constable in question. Phryne gasped and grabbed Jack's hand.
"And it would seem not." He returned the grip, lifting their joined hands to his chest as he began to read aloud. "Constable Ryan Carlisle was found stabbed to death behind the Fairwinds Pub."
Phryne traced the photo and shook her head. "He looks so young. Younger than Hugh even."
Jack grimaced. "Fresh from the police academy I'd say. I don't recognize the name or the face." He read further down the article, finding the pertinent details among the sensation. "According to DI Lawrence at Melbourne City Central Police Department, Carlisle had been pursuing a possible thief from a string of burglaries."
"Burglaries? Since when do thieves resort to murder?"
"When someone gets too close? But, I agree, it is unusual." Beyond the bedroom door, the muted tone of the phone's ring signaled like a warning bell.
She sat forward, the sheet dropping to her waist unnoticed as her gaze and tone sharpened with curiosity. "Perhaps the two crimes aren't connected?"
Jack's lips thinned with dry amusement. "I thought you were more interested in keeping me here than sending me off to work."
Phryne huffed. "Well, it is a murder, Jack."
He opened his mouth to reply, but was silenced by a light knock followed by Dot's quiet, "Miss?"
Jack grabbed the other edge of the newspaper from Phryne's lax grip and flapped it fully open over his bare chest then gave her a pointed look.
Phryne tugged the sheet back to her shoulders. "Yes, Dot, come in."
Dot glanced from Phryne to Jack then back, her cheeks pinking, but she forged on. "There's a telephone call for you, Inspector. From the commissioner of police."
"And my plans are officially out the window."
Phryne's cultured, wry tones lifted his lips. "Ah, thank you, Dot. Please tell them, I'll be right down to take it."
Miss Williams slipped out as silently as she'd entered. Once the door closed, Jack threw back the covers. His pajamas and Phryne's silk kimono lay strewn across the floor where they'd been discarded last night. He tossed an amused look over his shoulder, then wished he hadn't. Phryne sat with the sheet pooling again around her waist, grinning. Hair tousled, lips full and bruised from their kisses, she was a siren calling.
His mouth suddenly dried. He swallowed hard. Why had he gotten out of bed again?
"There's been a murder, Jack. And a phone call." Her chuckle warmed with desire. "Unless my plans for today are back on the list?"
Oh. Right then. He tugged on the pajama bottoms, trying to ignore the tempting vision she made. Shirt was finally buttoned. But where was his robe? He scanned the room, taking great care not to look at her again. "My robe?"
"Try the armoire?" She paused, and mirth filled her voice. "I could help you look …"
"You'll do no such thing, or I'll never get to the phone."
The armoire revealed a handful of his suits, shirts, and ties brought over from his Richmond bungalow yesterday at her request. Finally, his hand landed on his cotton robe. He yanked it from the hangar and thrust his arms inside. With a feral, teasing grin, he planted a thorough kiss on his temptation and hurried out the door.
Phryne slid back under the sheets, relishing the memory of one Jack Robinson searching for his clothes like evidence at a crime scene. After two nights ranging from wild abandon to tender caresses, she had discovered the missing piece that had left some part of all her dalliances mysteriously unsatisfying.
She closed her eyes as that sensation again warmed her heart. Who knew love in both participants would enhance even the greatest pleasure still more? That it would form a bond from which she could gladly say she needed no other man than Jack? Even the thought of a lifetime together had snuck in on the heels of her surrender to love. It was more than a possibility—it was very likely their ultimate end. But it didn't feel like the cage she'd always feared.
How strange. She had accused Stanley just two days ago of allowing love to make a fool out of him. Had she just done the same? Willingly releasing her string of lovers and total freedom for a possible lifetime in the arms of only one man?
But even if she were acting foolishly, she did quite enjoy the benefits of being a fool for love. The comfort and safety of a man she could trust without question. The adoring light in his eyes every time he looked at her. The mutual respect, testing of wits, and the ultimate meeting of minds. She'd never experienced any of those with any other man. Let alone all in one. And only with Jack.
Shakespeare had written, "The fool doth think he is wise, but the wise man knows himself to be a fool." So if everyone was a fool anyway, wouldn't she much prefer to knowingly be a fool and therein could save herself from rash actions?
Besides a life spent with one person wasn't particularly rash. Was it? People had done it since the beginning of time. So why would it be so foolish for her? Especially if that one person was Jack Robinson. Honorable. Caring. Quick witted. Multi-talented. And appreciatively sympathetic to her history. From Collingwood to London and every place in between, he knew the whole of her. Loved the whole of her. About what other dalliance could she say that despite the freedom they afforded?
No, it would be foolish to not grab hold of him with both hands. Phryne rolled over to his side of the bed and took in a deep breath, inhaling the fading remnants of his spiced cologne and the simple earthiness of parfum de Jacques. Love welled, deep and freeing, in her heart. "Yes, Jack Robinson, I do want an entire life with you."
Jack pushed through Phryne's bedroom door, the commissioner's words still haunting him. Not just one constabulary death but two as of this morning. The case was now his to investigate and close forthwith, preferably lacking in additional bodies.
Phryne sat up in bed and fixed him with a teasing look. "Is the commissioner filing a Morals charge on you since your police car has been parked in front of Wardlow for two days straight?
Jack shrugged off his robe and rehung it in the closet. "No, but that is how he located me."
"Well, it seems police departments are as much a haven for gossip as ladies' salons." Phryne's eyes narrowed as she studied him in the silence. "Is that a problem from the hierarchy's perspective?"
Jack shook his head as he leaned against the armoire, watching her. "Not so it was mentioned. And even if it is, they are hardly ones demonstrating the highest standards."
Her brow furrowed. "Jack, is your position in danger? I don't want you to lose your job over me."
Jack smiled and joined her on the bed, realizing his preoccupation with the case had led her down a different track. "They will merely have to adjust. I'm not hiding the change in our relationship like a dirty, little secret, love." He placed a kiss on her lips, which she readily returned. A few heartbeats later, he pulled back and leveled a serious look on her. "However, it would prove wise for us to be a bit circumspect in our actions toward each other while at work."
She traced a finger down his pajama top, circling each button in turn. "So no ravishing you at your desk. Pity. I've had so many thoughts on that possibility."
Jack gulped. His memory faithfully replaying the image of her seated on his desk, stockinged legs nearly at his eye level only a few days ago. If it hadn't been for the jarred spider, he had no idea how he would have subverted such temptation. And now that he had full knowledge, experience, and access to those stunning legs … He gulped again. "Ah, yes. I would hate for Collins or another member of the staff to burst in on us in a … shall we say, compromising, position. As rewarding as I'm certain it would be."
Phryne halted her fingers' tour of his buttons and nodded. "Hmmm … yes, I can see your point. Well, I shall keep my hands to myself while we're on the clock." She cocked an eyebrow at him, eyes gleaming. "But after hours?" She let the question hang between them, and again Jack's mind filled in all manner of unhelpful images.
Phryne apparently took pity on him, smoothing his shirt then sitting back on her haunches a safe distance away. "So if it wasn't to call you on the carpet about us, what was the reason?"
Jack sighed, the seriousness of the news sobering him. He pointed to the abandoned newspaper. "The reported death was the first. They found his body after several days—something the department didn't release to the papers. Only a few hours ago a second constable was found murdered in City Central, the Deputy Commissioner's nephew."
Phryne's jaw dropped. "You mean the one who usurped Hugh?"
He nodded. "The very one and a position above Carlisle. Senior Constable."
"Seems our murderer is climbing the ranks, as it were."
"That is the prevailing thought. The commissioner has asked me to take over the case. Give the men at Central a bit of a breather since the murders are in house." He paused and flashed her a fond smile. "Interested in joining me?"
Phryne scooted back to him, kneeling on the bed and draping her arms around his shoulders. "I'm so pleased you asked." She grinned, but cursed a moment later. "Damn and blast, I'm meant to be taking Father back to England."
Jack smiled. "Well then, I guess I'll keep you informed with telegrams."
"And not be on hand? What if you missed clues or didn't put the pieces together right and the murders continued? And this murderer is targeting the constabulary. How can I know you'll be safe? No. I couldn't bear it."
"Being left out of the investigation or not knowing about my safety?"
Phryne fixed him with an exasperated look, but softened it with the sweetest brush of her lips against his. "Your safety is paramount, darling. Especially now." She shook her head. "But yes, you know how much I love an investigation."
She traced his cheek with a finger. "I had actually been contemplating asking you to go with me to England. That would certainly ensure your safety." She paused and wicked light brightened her eyes. "Well, you'd be safe from thieves and murderers, but not from me."
Jack slid an easy caress up and down her back, allowing the past two days' delights to span a six-week sail with little to no interruptions. But he banished the thoughts with a sigh. "Would that I could, but now it's impossible."
Phryne's lips thinned as she hummed her irritation. "I can't trust Father any further than I could toss him off the nearest cliff." A sly smile wrapped her lips. "Unless of course I had the assistance of a strong male …"
Jack squeezed her, chuckling. "Not even for you, love, would I dispose of someone in that manner."
Irritation pursed her lips, but she shrugged. "Yes, I suppose that's not my best idea. You would definitely lose your job then."
"And of course, there would always be the threat of hanging," came his dry reply.
She studied his neck, then lowered her mouth to tease its hard cords. "That would be such a shame. I have always been particularly partial to your neck." She licked the underside of his jaw and chuckled when his pulse jumped.
Jack tightened his hold on her for a moment, then pushed her back, again soothing the long muscles of her back with his fingers. "So?"
Phryne shifted back further, eyes alight with ideas. Ideas that usually spelled harebrained antics. Jack braced himself for her next words. "Just because Father needs a nursemaid, it doesn't perforce mean me. Stay right here."
She planted a long, thorough kiss on his lips, wrecking any thoughts or questions he might have had, then leapt from the bed, fingers crossed. "For luck." Grabbing her silk Chinese robe, she dashed through the bedroom door.
Jack shook his head and opted to begin his morning ablutions. He preferred to be dressed and ready when she returned with whatever her solution might be.
Phryne sailed down the stairs, pausing just outside the kitchen door. It would be best for this conversation to be face to face, but a phone call might prove necessary. Voices rumbled into the living room. Dot's sweet pitch. Mr. B's elegant baritone. But then … just the people.
She breezed into the kitchen with a wide, welcoming smile. She nodded to Mr. B. thanking him for a lovely breakfast, then turned to her resident red raggers, manfully disappearing a plate of scones. "Ah Bert, Cec. Good morning. The inspector has a case, and I need your help."
Cec perked up. "Fists of steel, Miss Fisher?" he asked around a mouthful of scone.
Phryne sighed. "Well, I do hope it doesn't come to that, but keep it as an option." She looked to both men. "I need you to pick Father up from Lilydale and escort him back to London. All expenses paid, I assure you."
Half of a scone fell from Bert's hand to the floor. Cec stood, mouth agape, crumbs spilling from his lips. She ignored their stunned faces and glanced to Dot. "Bert can have my ticket, and Dot, you can arrange an extra for Cec."
"Yes, miss."
Bert shook his head like a dog getting water out of his ears. "But … but … what about the cab? Can't leave it idle for three months while we go jaunting off nursing your bloody father."
Cec swiped his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes lighting as the full extent of the opportunity seemed to interest him. He punched Bert's shoulder. "Come on, Bert. We only went as far as Paris after the War. It'd be a right treat to set eyes on London. Besides, my nephew can take it over. He's been looking for a job."
Bert scratched his cheek, irritation and reluctance wrinkling his forehead. Phryne simply waited. He wasn't likely to refuse her, even if he sometimes did need time to think things through. His agreement finally came out in a grudging sigh. "All right then. We'll head home, pack some things, and pick up Jimmy. He can ride us out to Lilydale and back to the docks. Give him time to practice."
Phryne beamed her approval. "Thank you, gentlemen. Dot will square away all the details. Just make sure my father gets to the London house and back into mother's arms. What she does with him from there is her business. Personally, I hope she locks him in a room and tosses the key."
She swirled around, leaving the quartet to talk and plan, and hurried back upstairs, satisfaction whirling through her. Father safely packed off, Jack waiting in her bedroom, and a murder case to solve. Could the day possibly get any better?
Jack stood in front of Phryne's boudoir mirror and tucked his tie under his vest as the bedroom door opened and their gazes met. Her eyes brightened by success, cheeks pinked by her hurried returned, and her smile full of love, she nearly stopped his heart. "I take it your endeavor was successful?"
She crawled to him across the bed, then stood on her knees, pulling him around to face her. "Yes, I have relinquished my nursemaid duties into the capable hands of Bert and Cec, and I am free to assist you with your latest murder."
Jack cupped her cheeks, searching her eyes, a deep love washing through him. His voice low, and filled with care, he said, "You didn't have to do that. I know getting your father back to your mother was important to you, love."
Phryne's delight softened. Her fingers played with his lapels as she glanced to his tie. "It is. The old dear is besotted, I'm afraid, though I certainly don't see the reasons for it." She caught his gaze again, and her customary impish smile returned. "But we are the best investigative team in Melbourne. With us working together, the murderer can be caught much sooner, and the remaining ranks of the constabulary will survive intact."
Jack grimaced at her choice of words, but nodded. "Then I look forward to our investigation, Miss Fisher."
"As do I, dear Inspector." She leaned up and place a soft kiss against his lips. "Now, shall we ride together? I can drive."
Jack groaned and pulled away, a smile flitting about his lips. "Thank you, but no. You're hardly dressed, and I need to leave right away. I'm late enough as it is."
"Hmmph. I'll see you at the morgue then."