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“She was there, in the full vigour of her personality, battered but not diminished” Willa Cather, My Antonia
Senior Detective Inspector Jack Robinson, commander of the Victoria Constabulary City South station, lay flat beside the police motorcar, his chin barely above the gravel as he peered cautiously under the rear of the vehicle towards the scene before him. His right hand was slightly raised and held a pistol, pointed at a stack of shipping crates across the courtyard and in front of a set of loading dock doors. He reached out behind him with his left hand to confirm his partner was exactly where she was supposed to be, for once. Of course she wasn't.
Across the driveway from where the Inspector lay and equidistant from the warehouse, was parked another police motorcar. Two constables huddled behind it and caught their breath while they reloaded their weapons. The air was filled with the sharp smell of cordite, the result of a barrage of bullets that had flown between the crates and vehicles. But now it was quiet for a moment, as if the tableau was holding its collective breath.
Jack cursed softly and looked around under his motorcar to see if he could spot her. He saw movement to his distant left that looked suspiciously like her red Mary Janes circling around to approach the building unseen and he grimaced. His head then quickly swivieled over to his right to register his constables still crouched behind the other police motorcar and watching their superior for his next orders.
Jack motioned with one hand for them to stay down and wait. Suddenly there came more shots, fired from above and behind the unprotected constables and to the Inspector's horror saw both jerk forward. One of the thugs had, behind cover, climbed one of the cargo carts that lined the wharf and had found a clear angle to aim at the two men. Jack quickly got to his knees and as the shooter tried to conceal himself behind the cart's hold, felled the villain with one shot.
One of the wounded constables was moving and trying to sit up, the other lay still. Jack yelled at them that help was on the way while quickly calculating the best way he could get to them. There was unfortunately open ground between the vehicles, so the senior officer had to take a moment to look at options that did not involve getting his feet shot out from under him. He looked behind him and yelled to Collins to go call for an ambulance pronto. The Senior Constable backed away from where he was stationed with another officer behind a fence and ran off to do as he was ordered.
Jack swung back around and decided he could not wait for back up. He could not be sure of the condition of the injured men but surmised that both were surely bleeding and there was not a lot of time. He eased upwards onto the balls of his feet. Then aiming several shots of covering fire towards the crates, he bent down and sprinted towards where the injured constable were sheltered. Unseen men returned fire that flew around Jack as he ran and then skidded to his knees to land at his men's side. One constable was holding his arm and gritting his teeth. The other was prone, and the senior officer noticed a small pool of blood spreading under the man's head. He calmly told the one to keep pressure on his arm and to be ready to run. Jack lifted the other's helmet off his head gently to find the source of the blood only to huff a small sigh of relief when he realized it was not a head wound but the constable was bleeding from his shoulder. Jack grabbed a handkerchief from his pocket and stuffed it under the collar of the man's wool tunic, pressing down on the general location of where the blood was seeping through, to help stem it. A very temporary solution at best, not an ideal way to stop the bleeding completely.
Now to get his men out of there quickly. His head swiveled back to the fencing and saw that Collins had returned, giving the Inspector a thumbs up. Jack gave him and the other officers the signal to start firing towards the building on the count of three. His fingers counted down and at the three there came another violent barrage of shots. Jack dragged one of the men back to the safety of his motorcar and the fence beyond, all the while yelling at the other wounded man to run and keep his damn head down.
Collins ceased firing for a moment as he helped the Inspector get the men to safety, but the bullets from the direction of the shed kept pining off the motorcar's surface or splintering the fencing. Suddenly, the shooting began to slow and there came was a yelp of pain from behind the crates in the loading dock, then another. Finally the firing stopped abruptly and as the residual noise echoed around the wharf a scuffle could be heard. Then the sound of wood cracking as crates fell and shouts. A voice called out.
“Jack, Jack....'
He froze at her shout, felt that familiar painful clutch of his heart and then ran without hesitation in the direction she had gone, circling around until he found a narrow door ajar on the side of the building. He grabbed his pistol from the waistband of his trousers and went in cautiously. There was a man out cold on the wooden floor before him, about five feet inside the threshold. Jack gathered up the man's weapon as he passed, making note of how it had been safely kicked away, and followed the trail of a discarded red cloche and then a scarf. As he came up completely behind the crates he finally found her and crouched down, letting out a large breath at the same time.
The Honourable Miss Phryne Fisher, greatly disheveled and sporting an impressive cut on her lip, was resting back on her heels, pointing a pearl handled, gold plated .38 revolver at a man sprawled across the floor. The scenario was rather moot as it appeared this man was unconscious as well. He sported a large welt on his forehead and other injuries that had evidently resulted in sufficient pain to have caused him to fall in a fetal position. Jack's mouth straightened, his brow furrowed as he tried to tamper down his irritated frustration and searched her eyes before standing and holding out his hand to gently help her up.
She got to her feet unsteadily, stumbled back a bit, and then gripped his arm shakily. He bit his lip but did not say a word. Sometimes he wondered if it meant he was more coward than courageous at times like these. She smoothed down her skirt and blouse and tried to neaten her black bobbed hair to some extent. When she looked up at him, her eyes were a little watery and very unnerved, but she stuck her chin up and glared at him defiantly.
He knew better then to do or say anything other then “Are you alright, Miss Fisher. “
“I am quite fine, Jack” she lied. Knowing she was not fine, he just barely nodded and waited for the terror in her eyes to recede. Experiencing trauma in their line of business occurred more than they cared to acknowledge and sometimes it triggered remembered trauma unbidden. Neither of them was immune.
Jack looked away, blinked once, twice and after a time, when he sensed she was ready, cleared his throat and said
“Well done, Miss Fisher.”
Miss Fisher acknowledged his words with a tight smile and looked away as the area began to fill up with other officers and the crime scene was secured.
Sometime later, after the Inspector had ascertained all the villains were accounted for and his constables were out of danger, he wandered over to the red Hispano Suisa parked off in a side street and eyed the woman sitting in the drivers seat looking at her fattening lip in a compact mirror. She pretended to not notice him, inwardly steeling herself for lecture she was sure was imminent.
“I'd offer to kiss it better, but well... you know... , not in front of the men .....”
“Don't make me laugh, Jack. It hurts... and my ribs... “ Phryne placed a hand to her tender side and tried not to guffaw out loud, grateful that her partner had decided to sooth instead of storm at her this time.
“Hrmph!” was his immediate comment to that, then he added, “Why don't you go home, have a good soak, a glass of whiskey and if... if you do as you are told just this once I might be by later. Unless you are sleeping. You can give your statement tomorrow.”
“I believe I will Inspector. Although don't let my sleeping discourage you. “ She batted her lashes with her usual exaggerated cheekiness. Jack just hung his head, shook it, and looked back up at her. "Don't! I'm angry with you." He was trying so hard to look stern but the slight quirk to the side of his mouth betrayed him. Impossible Woman, especially when she simpered like that. He really needed some time alone to process this day but knew there was no way he could resist seeing her safely ensconced at home.
Phryne put the car in gear and looked at him once more, her expression now serious, devoid of any coyness. She conveyed silently that perhaps she might really need her steadfast Inspector tonight and he understood.
“See you later, I hope.”
Death Of Me, he thought as he turned back to the crowd milling around the situation on the wharf.
*********************
It was a few months later and Phryne Fisher and her companion Dorothy Williams were seated in a large hall containing a podium and dozens of rows of chairs. VIP'S, bedecked in black wool with shiny braid and bold coloured ribbons dripping with gold and silver, filled the front few rows. Behind those sat several rows of dress uniformed officers and behind them were rows of friends and family.
It was a celebratory atmosphere. Newly graduated cadets were receiving their badges, some officers had earned new stripes or credentials and a further few were having awards bestowed upon them. Miss Fisher was her usual understated self, resplendent in feathered cloche, faux fox and red wool. Dot had donned one of her pretty day dresses, charcoal with delicate white lace trim. Even Dr. Elizabeth (Mac) Macmillan was on hand to cheer on some of the men she worked with. She had initially grouched at the lack of women representation at the ceremony, however had been mollified a tad when Jack confirmed he was working on it and then had the audacity to wink at her, cheeky sod.
Mac was begrudgingly starting to like the 'dour' Inspector, even though he was part of the establishment status quo; however if Jack could work towards convincing the powers-that-be that change was needed, he wholeheartedly had her support. And she smirked slightly as she wondered, not for the first time, how on earth he was ever going to survive working with her insufferable best friend. She glanced over at Phryne who was beaming and rolled her eyes. The bruises and cuts on the lady detective's face and body had healed for the most part; the blow to her psyche would perhaps take a little more time but she was tough and resilient. She had had a lot of practice.
Various persons droned on as the evening progressed. Family and friends clapped enthusiastically as new members of the Victorian Constabulary were welcomed into the fold and others were congratulated for various promotions. Dot followed suit when Hugh Collins was awarded a commendation for his actions in the field.
Finally came the moment that Phryne Fisher was most interested in.
Four officers were called to the front to stand just to the left of the podium. They were in turn called by name and their brave deeds highlighted to the audience. One by one they stepped forward to have a medal pinned to the breast pocket of their uniform and shake the Commissioner's hand.
Phryne smiled to herself at how well she could read Jack by now. His face was very stoic but she just knew he was probably hating all this fuss and bother and she chuckled at the shade of red his cheeks and ears had turned. There was more appreciative applause and the master of ceremonies drew the festivities to a close by inviting all attending to stay for a light lunch.
As the crowd began to surge forward to congratulate the various honourees, Phryne, Dot and Mac stood off to the side and waited for Jack and Hugh to find them. Hugh blushed at the great hug and kiss Dot gave him when he appeared, then proudly showed her the commendation he held in his hand. Mac shook his hand, then shrugged and gave him a hug as well.
Jack hung back a little, standing there awkwardly in his black dress uniform and peaked hat. He looked very, very handsome, something that Phryne could not let go unnoticed or unacknowledged. When Phryne nodded her head at him in admiration he just rolled his eyes and went to stand beside her. She turned towards him, smiled and reached up to brush his lapel and the medal beside it.
“Looks good on you Jack.” she said proudly.
Then Jack did something very surprising, he brought his hands up and grasped hers very tenderly in front of the crowd, some of whom raised eyebrows in amazement or furrowed in disapproval. He ran a thumb over the back of her hand, caressing it softly so that her eyes widened. More people began to notice and turned their way, including some of the brass.
Jack gently let go of her hand, reached both of his to his breast and his long fingers fought with the clasp of the ribbon holding the medal. He undid it, slid it off his jacket pocket and proceeded to pin it to the left breast of her wool suit. She looked down and then looked up, eyes glistening. His eyes unexpectedly got a little shiny in return and he looked down, ostensibly to finish fastening it properly. He straightened it with one finger, looked pleased with the result and looked back at her.
There was a lump in her throat when his smile tilted up at the side and he said,
“Looks better on you, Miss Fisher. The bravest person I know, God help me.”
They stood there together, oblivious to the stares and whispers, lost in each other and leaning closer then was proper before Mac appeared with flutes of champagne and pushed them into their hands. The good Doctor raised a glass and toasted to them and the room.
“To the brave.”