13

Saturday evening, Phryne twirled in front of her mirror. Madame Fleuri's moss green dress with magenta sequined flowers swirled around her calves in a decadent whirl of satin and silk. "What do you think?"

She didn't usually care what any man thought of her clothing, but tonight she was dressing not only for herself, but also as Jack's date for the Fireman and Policeman's Ball. The level of dress there was likely to be lower than the society gatherings of Ladies Day or the Oaks, and she wanted to be only one or two steps above the other ladies rather than in a completely different stratosphere.

Jack affixed the last of his ebony buttons into his tuxedo shirt and looked up. A soft smile eased across his lips. "Beautiful. As always."

"It's not too much for your crowd?"

"The tuxedo itself is too much, Phryne. Usually only the highest ranks of the constabulary don them for the event. The rest of we plebeians wear simple day suits."

Phryne smoothed her hands over his chest, admiring the play of the ebony under the lamplight. "I couldn't resist."

She met his gaze from under half-lidded eyes, tempting him with unspoken promises of how their night would end. "I knew you would look both divine and delicious in it." She flicked her tongue against his neck, then whispered, "And I was right."

Jack's pulse jumped and his hands reflexively closed around her waist. Phryne twisted out of his grip with a teasing smile. "Later, darling. For now, I have a surprise for you."

Jack released a low groan. Whether it was out of frustration or dread, she opted to ignore it and instead pulled a small black velvet box out of a drawer in her makeup table. She held it in her palm, a soft smile tickling her lips. "The finishing touch."

He glanced up then, at her encouraging nod, opened the box. His lips parted on a soft inhale. The ebony cufflinks, engraved with a masculine JR, lay waiting in the white satin for their new owner's use.

When he continued to stare at them, Phryne picked one up and slipped it into the button holes at his wrist. She turned his arm so he could see it in place. "Perfect." She grinned.

Jack shook his head, then pulled her into a sweet kiss of thanks. She held the caress for a long moment, nibbling at his lips, before pulling back to sneak the other cuff link into its home.

"What have you worn the last few years?"

"Nothing."

Phryne smirked as she played with his lapels. "My, that would make quite a statement. Pity I missed it."

Jack's lips thinned with amusement. "I meant, I haven't attended." He glanced away. "With Rosie living at her sister's, there didn't seem to be much point in going."

She leaned up and gave him a quick kiss, soothing the past hurt. "Well, now you have double reason. A date, and an investigation to resolve. Shall we go?"

They met Dot greeting Hugh in the foyer. Hugh's cheeks pinked at the sight of his superior descending the stairs from Phryne's bedroom. "Ah, sir. Good evening."

Jack dipped his head as he lifted Phryne's fox fur wrap from the foyer coat rack. "Evening, Collins."

She slipped her arms inside the soft fur, sparing a warm glance of thanks for Jack. "Hugh, you are looking quite dapper tonight."

Dot blushed, but nodded her agreement.

Phryne glanced between the two. "How will you be getting to St. Kilda Town Hall?"

Hugh straightened, taking Dot's hand in his. "Ah, it's a lovely evening. I thought we'd walk."

Phryne grabbed her purse from the counter, shaking her head. "Nonsense. We'll all go in the Hispano. Be there in a blink."

Jack squeezed her hand. "Do remember we're going to a policeman's ball, Phryne."

She rolled her eyes. "Fine, two blinks, then."

St. Kilda Town Hall glowed in the night like a beacon of festivity. Cars lined the street, but Phryne swung into an empty spot a few yards down from the entrance. Couples chatted as they walked along the sidewalk on their way to the ball. Phryne and Jack and Dot and Hugh followed their trail.

As they gained the entry, Dot and Hugh joined a group of other young constables and their ladies. Jack scanned the room, finding only a handful of men wearing tuxedos—and, as he told Phryne, they were all from the upper echelons of the police association. He squirmed a bit, reaching to fiddle with his bow tie.

She slid her hand around his arm and flashed a bright smile. "You look incredible, darling. Just relax and enjoy being the center of attention."

He grimaced. "Like you do?"

She leaned in close enough to kiss him, but only whispered, "Always."

He chuckled as his worry eased.

Pleased with her efforts, she asked, "Now, who do we start with?"

Jack tilted his head toward a handsome older couple in close conversation with the Lord Mayor. "Pay our respects to Lord Mayor Luxton and Gerald Turner and his wife. Turner is the president of the Police Association and the host of the event."

She squeezed his arm. "Lead on, then."

They melded into the small group surrounding the mayor and the Turners, Jack extending his hand readily to Mr. Turner. "Gerald, Cynthia may I introduce The Honorable Miss Phryne Fisher."

Cynthia took Phryne's hand and gave it an enthusiastic squeeze. "Miss Fisher, we're delighted. I follow you regularly in the society pages. Your adventures and work with the unfortunates in our community are inspiring." She gave Phryne's length a long look. "And that dress … simply amazing."

Phryne grinned at Cynthia's sincere gushing. "It is a pleasure to meet you. Please you must come 'round for tea sometime." She pulled a business card from her purse, and Cynthia took it readily.

Beside them, Jack and Gerald easily chatted about constabulary matters, although both steered elegantly around Jack's current investigation. Gerald seemed quite informed about Jack's career, so it appeared his plans for the evening were to be focused on pleasure.

Phryne grinned to herself. As it should be.

As the conversations wrapped up, they paid their respects to the Lord Mayor. Phryne offered her cheek for Harold Luxton's perfunctory kiss. "Harold, so good to see you. Is Doris not here this evening?"

Jack's head whipped toward her at her familiarity, but Phryne simply patted his arm.

Luxton hmphed. "Dori has the sniffles. Said she couldn't possibly come tonight. But I know she'll be shattered to have missed seeing you, Phryne. You must come to dinner sometime."

"I'd be delighted." She turned to Jack with a smile. "As long as I can bring a date. Lord Mayor, have you met Detective Inspector Jack Robinson?"

Harold's eyes widened a fraction. But a moment later, he simply nodded. "Of course, we'd love to have you both." He held out his hand, which Jack shook. "Inspector Robinson, it's good to see you this evening. You aren't a regular attendee."

Jack released the grip with a glance to Phryne. "I haven't had the pleasure of escorting such charming company."

Harold guffawed a deep belly laugh. "Charming is certainly one word for Phryne Fisher."

Phryne flashed him a devilish grin. "And I'm certain you can think of many other descriptors, Harold, given your years of acquaintance with my Aunt Prudence."

Gerald and Cynthia joined his genial chuckle. Phryne stroked her hand along Jack's arm. "But I'm afraid we're monopolizing you from your other guests." She looked to Cynthia. "And please, do call sometime, Cynthia."

With ready agreements for later social engagements, Jack steered Phryne away. "You didn't tell me you were old friends with the mayor."

She pinched his arm. "Not old friends, Jack. Goodness, he's been married since he was twenty-one. But yes, his wife, Doris, and Aunt Prudence have toured the same social circles for years. One can't help but have more than a passing acquaintance."

She scanned the room, now knowing no one else. "Who's next?"

Jack was about to answer when a thin reed of a man, also clad in a tuxedo, approached them. A half-full tumbler of an amber liquid filled one hand and a cigar, the other. Jack's smile warmed with recognition.

Curious, Phryne waited for the introductions.

Jack gestured toward her. "The Honorable Miss Phryne Fisher, I'd like you to meet Conrad Williams, the governor of the city gaol."

"A pleasure to meet you, miss." He lifted both his filled hands, but smiled. "Jack here is one of the best investigators in the state. Can't tell you how many of my residents are keeping me company due to his work."

Conrad paused and shook his head as if trying to place her. "Fisher, you said? You were involved in the Murdoch Foyle business, that right? Bad luck that whole thing—his escape and murdering his former colleagues. But it all came right in the end. What say you, Miss Fisher?"

Phryne sighed, grateful to have that chapter of her life over. "Very right, Mr. Williams. I assume his time with the noose is scheduled?"

Conrad lifted his tumbler in a silent toast. "In the next few months as it happens. Have to get through all of the appeals, but not to worry. He's not escaping his date with the hangman. You have my word."

His serious gaze turned fond as he looked at Jack. "Glad to see you here, Jack. It's been ages since you've graced us with your presence."

They chatted on unimportant topics until the orchestra put bow to string, and Jack pulled her toward the dance floor. Phryne melted into his embrace as they stepped into a waltz.

She grinned up at him, teasing but true delight wrapping her words. "Darling, in the right environment, you are quite the social butterfly. I never would have guessed."

Jack's lips twitched in a small smile. "You wanted a man of mystery …"

"And I'm exceedingly happy to have him."

He laughed as he swooped her into a turn, the joyous, warm sound drawing more than one set of eyes and smiles.

As he stepped around her and into a promenade, she caught his gaze. His brows lifted at her silent question and she nodded.

"You never did tell me where you learned to dance. Did the police academy extend beyond instruction in sport and into social niceties?"

Jack's cheeks surprisingly reddened.

This will be a good and interesting story.

"Ah, no that blame or praise should be laid at my cousin Marjorie's door."

Phryne blinked. Of course, Jack hadn't sprung out of the ether—though sometimes she did wonder. He had mentioned his uncle Ted with reference to his first coin collection. But never a word about his parents or any other family. "Oh do tell?"

He swung her back to facing him. "Yes, Aunt Martha, Uncle Ted's wife, decided Marjorie should have dance lessons, and, since we were both only children, I became the conscripted male partner. I must admit I did develop a fondness for it after the first few weeks. We danced together until she married."

He glanced away, sadness flaring in his eyes. "Rosie never wanted to dance, so my first return to the floor since my cousin was with you, at The Grand."

Touched by his words and the pleasure in his gaze, Phryne longed to kiss him, but had to settle for stroking his shoulder. "And you dance so well, Jack. You put kings and princes to shame. I must confess both stepped on my toes at least twice when we dance. And you have never done so once."

Delighted by her praise, Jack's smile warmed. "Then we'll have to dance more often."

Phryne's eyes closed in a long, affirming blink. She might yet get him to the Green Mill for an evening.

As the song ended, Jack's expression sobered. He tilted his head toward a bespeckled man with a long drooping mustache and a tall, heavily built man beside him wearing a police uniform of sorts. "Commissioner Bollinger. He has given me until Sunday morning at nine a.m. to bring in a suspect or he'll sack me."

The commissioner stared at Jack, a warning reminder darkening his eyes.

Phryne's eyes widened. "We'd best get to work." She scanned the dancers and the wallflowers, then looked to Jack. "See any likely targets?"

He nodded and escorted her toward the bar. Ordering her a champagne and himself a whiskey, sent a pointed a look toward an older gentleman seated at table nursing his drink and watching the dancers. "Barnaby Parker. Retired detective inspector from City North. He would have been there when the group was transferred."

"Will he talk?"

"He never was enamored with Lawrence. Thought he was little more than a political placement, though I'm not sure of the whole of the reason behind it."

They made their way toward Parker's table, greeting other attendees, pausing to chat when needed. Finally, they sat and Jack made the introductions.

Parker coughed hard into his kerchief and took a long swallow of his whiskey. "Heard you were handling the constabulary murders. Bad break, for all of them."

Jack nodded. "Lawrence has erected a blue wall around their records, and we need details. Care to share what you remember?"

"Lawrence, bah. He would rather hide the truth than ferret it out for the good of the constabulary."

He took another large swig, then lowered his voice. "Crossley and Carlisle got caught up in a gambling raid. They were at the Dark Rose one night playing Two-Up when the force came busting in. Crossley tried to make it look like they were part of the raid, but Carlisle called him out. Guess he wouldn't stand for lying to his boss and brethren."

Phryne leaned forward. "So their transfers were to cover up the gambling. What about O'Shaughnessy? What sent him to City South?"

"O'Shaughnessy was a good Catholic. Wouldn't be caught dead gambling. Maybe his move was just to fill out the ranks down there?"

Jack nodded. "That makes sense. Jamie Markwell had just retired."

Phryne's lips thinned. "And Bradford Edwards, the Deputy Commissioner's nephew? Could he have been caught in the gambling ring?"

Parker waved off the idea. "Not that kid. He kept his nose cleaner than a June bride. Of course, his uncle made sure of that, too. He had big plans for the lad, though I'm not sure he had the brains for them."

Jack turned to Phryne. "So maybe Bradford's transfer was for his career rather than related to the dock worker murder."

"Dock worker murder, you say? You wouldn't mean the Davy O'Rourke case?"

Phryne's eyes widened at Parker's question. "Yes, exactly that one. What do you know about it?"

He scratched his chin and stared off for a moment. "Odd one it was. O'Shaughnessy was assigned it, so I only heard bits and pieces of it. But what I did hear just didn't add up. And yet he and his crew railroaded it through to the courts and got the conviction they needed."

Jack leaned forward. "'The conviction they needed'? Was someone pushing for it?"

Parker nodded. "After a fashion. Now, you didn't hear this from me."

Phryne's lips spread in a wide innocent smile as she blithely looked around the room. "Hear what? We've just been chatting about the weather as near as I can recall."

Parker chuckled and punched Jack on the arm. "I like this one, Robinson. You need to keep her around."

"I plan on it." A smile teased Jack's cheeks as he met Phryne's gaze, his eyes lighting with love. "Now, who was pushing for the O'Rourke case to be wrapped up?"

Parker jerked his head toward the newest arrival at the ball. Deputy Commissioner Edwards.

Jack shook his head as he watched Edwards shake hands with Luxton and Turner. "Why?"

"He'd just been promoted to Commander in Police Personnel. His first assignment was to clean up a right mess in the ranks. Gambling and extortion of the businessmen for protection from the gangs."

Jack's gaze unfocused as he searched his memory. "I remember that."

Parker glanced around the room, then lowered his voice. "He pushed O'Shaughnessy to wrap up the case before the public started rioting and the press started calling for inquiries into police corruption."

Parker crossed himself, then shook his head. "Hate to speak ill of the dead, but O'Shaughnessy was the perfect man for the push. Didn't care how evidence came to being as long as he got to cart someone off to the gaol."

Jack's outburst to Sanderson that "O'Shaughnessy's an incompetent" rang in Phryne's ears. "So it's possible Sully Murphy wasn't guilty at all?"

Parker tapped his now-empty tumbler against the table. "Oh, he was left holding the knife when the dust-up was over, but I was never convinced he actually did the stabbing. But O'Shaughnessy, Crossley, and young Edwards didn't look at any other suspects after Carlisle admitted to what he saw."

He scratched his chin, pondering everything they'd discussed. "But who would want revenge for O'Rourke's death?"

Phryne shrugged and took a sip of her champagne. "Family would be the most likely."

Jack shook his head, taking a draw on his own drink. "Except he was from Ireland. Never set foot in Australia until the ship docked that day."

Phryne caught Jack's eye as an idea suddenly formed. "What if these murders aren't payback for not catching the right killer of O'Rourke, but for railroading Murphy into a conviction? Didn't you say he died in a prison riot?"

"Yes, a few months ago."

Phryne's brow wrinkled as she organized all of the new information with their earlier conjecture. "So why wait months for retribution?"

Jack leaned back in his chair, twirling his own whiskey tumbler. "Maybe our murderer didn't know the officers' names until now?"

Her eyes widened. "Or maybe he himself was occupied … possibly his own time in the gaol? Did Murphy have any family here?"

Jack slowly nodded. "We'll need to check."

A loud throat clear cut off the remainder of the conversation. Jack and Phryne swiveled in their seats and Jack rose. "Ah, Commissioner Bollinger." He offered Phryne his hand, and she stood. Jack made the introduction, ignoring Bollinger's dark stare at Phryne, and shot a questioning look toward the uniformed man with Bollinger.

Bollinger seemed to recall his courtesies and gestured to his companion. "This is Roger Goodall, Assistant Director of the Criminal Investigation Department of the Shanghai Municipal Police."

"Assistant Director. What brings you to our fair country?"

"It's my country as well, Inspector. I joined the Shanghai Municipal Police after the Egyptian Expeditionary Force was disbanded. Wanted to continue the adventure I suppose."

Jack rolled Goodall's name around in his head, trying to latch the vague familiarity onto something more concrete and failing.

"He's here on an official visit from the SMP. And I'm pushing hard for him to return to his home country. His extensive skills and experience would be a tremendous asset to the Victorian constabulary."

The vague familiarity solidified. Goodall's name had been on the passenger manifests he and Collins had reviewed. "Ah, just arrived a few days ago?"

Goodall looked surprised.

"Your name came up as part of an ongoing investigation."

Bollinger guffawed. "Surely the Assistant Director isn't a suspect in one of your cases."

Jack shook his head and explained, smoothing over the misunderstanding. "So you were in Shanghai during the 1927 demonstrations."

Goodall grimaced. "Yes. Bloody work. And unnecessary had the police commissioner paid more attention to his work than the ponies."

Bollinger's gaze settled on Phryne, who had been admirably silent during the exchange. "Miss Fisher, I know Inspector Robinson was hoping to glean some evidence for his current investigation during the ball, but I do hope you aren't assisting with that." He fixed Jack with a warning glare. "I'm sure I don't need to remind you that you were ordered not to investigate with a civilian."

Phryne's smile bristled with irritation, ready to jump to Jack's defense. But she seemed to smother the instinct and instead leaned up and kissed Jack's cheek. "As it turns out, I'm much more than a civilian to Jack."

Jack stared Bollinger down. "She is here as my date, Commissioner. It is a ball, after all. If she happens to ask a few pertinent questions to help reveal the truth, what is the harm in that?"

Bollinger's face reddened. His words blustered from him on spurts and hitches as he tried and failed to rein in his ire. "If I don't want you investigating with a civilian, I certainly don't approve of you doing so with your … your … paramour."

Beside Jack, Phryne practically vibrated with anger. Certain she would step in, Jack placed a staying hand on her arm, willing calm into her. "Miss Fisher is a first-rate detective who has proven her worth over dozens of investigations. As you know the entire state's number of female constables can be counted on one hand, minus a thumb. And there have been several instances where cases would not have progressed as quickly because female witnesses would not share important details with a male investigator."

But Bollinger wouldn't be persuaded. "Hear me, Robinson. You are not to investigate with a civilian—any civilian. Now, if you'll excuse us, Roger and I need to speak further about what I envision for him with the Victorian constabulary."

The men stalked off, leaving Jack, Phryne, and Parker in silence.

Phryne pierced Bollinger's shoulder blades with a lethal glare. "Looks like you need to reinstate my special constable privileges, Jack."

He nodded. "They are hereby reinstated. Right now, we need to get to the station and find out about Sully Murphy's relatives."