Archive of Our Own

On an otherwise unremarkable Saturday morning in November 1929, Jack walked into the hospital morgue, hat in hand, frown on face.

Mac looked up from the body on her table in surprise. As far as she knew the Inspector wasn’t even working this weekend, let alone this inquiry. She frowned briefly, wondering what had brought him to her door today and how likely it was to cause her grief.

“Inspector,” she greeted him, “I wasn’t expecting you today.”

“Uh, no, no, I’m not on this one.”

“I wouldn’t think so.” Mac looked down at the older woman on her table. She was at least 70 years old and the inquest was entirely a formality as far as the Constable who had found her was concerned. “Mrs Leah Gibson. Accidental death. Forgot to take her heart medicine, or so they say.”

Jack’s mouth twisted slightly in a grimace at her words.

“And you would concur with that assessment, Doctor?” he asked.

“I’ve yet to make my official ruling,” she said. “However….”

“Yes?”

“I think there’s cause for doubt.”

Jack perked up at that.

“Do you? Why?”

“Well,” she began, “do you see this?” She indicated the older woman’s mouth which she had been examining before Jack walked in. “Her frenulum is torn. You’re far more likely to see that if someone’s been fitting than, say, dying peacefully in their sleep. But,” she continued pointedly, “it’s also sometimes torn during manual strangulation, such as when something, particularly a hand, is held tight over the mouth. The frenulum is ground against the teeth. Of course, a torn frenulum doesn’t always indicate foul play, but it’s one of those things that gets my attention immediately. And, as I said, I’ve yet to make my official ruling. I’ve really only begun the examination.”

Jack nodded and frowned again.

“So,” Mac said, standing back and crossing her arms, “are you going to tell me what your interest is in this death?”

“Oh, uh, yes. Yes, of course. I was catching up on some paperwork this morning and the death notice came across my desk, along with the responding Constable’s report.”

“Which you found curious enough to come all the way down to my morgue on your day off?”

“Well…” Jack began, “I interviewed her.”

“You interviewed the corpse? Blimey, you're thorough, Inspector.”

Jack rolled his eyes and opened his mouth slightly in a look of mild annoyance tinged with humor.

Mac decided then that that was why the man hung around her best friend so much - he clearly liked being exasperated.

“Not for this case, obviously,” Jack clarified. “A year or so ago. Separate matter. But I remember her. She was... funny. Spry. I know people can suddenly age quickly, but at the time Mrs Gibson didn’t strike me as the kind of woman that would forget anything, least of all the medication keeping her alive.”

“So you came down here to see for yourself?”

“And it appears I may be right,” he defended.

“Perhaps,” Mac said, unwilling to be led into a conclusion. “I haven’t finished my autopsy yet.” She noted his downcast expression and continued. “Why don’t you come back tomorrow? I can tell you what I’ve found and you can bring me a pastry for my troubles.”

Jack raised an eyebrow and smiled ever so slightly.

“The troubles of doing your job?” he asked.

“My job is to report my findings to Constable…” she looked at the paperwork briefly, “Higgins. I’ll need something to keep up my strength for anything more than that, I’m afraid.”

Jack smiled ever so slightly more.

“Noted,” he said. “Half nine alright?”

“Fine.”

Jack nodded and Mac narrowed her eyes a bit at him.

“I have to say, I’m a little relieved, Inspector. I thought maybe you were here to discuss another matter. Of a more... personal nature? One that’s been gone about two months, perhaps?”

Jack dipped his chin and shook his head at her.

“If you’re referring to a certain lady detective of our mutual acquaintance, you needn’t worry; I’ve no plans to involve you in… well, whatever that is. You are an excellent coroner, Doctor, but I doubt psychotherapy of any kind is covered in your job description. I think, perhaps, we should just keep it professional, don’t you?”

“Fine by me, Inspector. And I appreciate the frankness.”

“I thought you might,” Jack said, putting his hat on.

“Come back tomorrow and I’ll have the full report.”

Jack nodded once more and turned to leave.

“Oh and Inspector? I like lemon.”

---------------------

The next day at half nine sharp, Jack walked into the morgue with a box of lemon pastries.

“Your bribe, Doctor,” he said, handing her the box.

“Bribe is such an ugly word, Inspector. I prefer kickback - sounds more athletic don’t you think?”

Jack gave a wry chuckle at that and hung his hat and coat on the rack by the door.

“So,” he began, “your findings?”

She handed him a report, a duplicate of the one she had already sent to Constable Higgins.

“It was a convincing job; if your suspicions hadn’t kept me wary I might have missed some of the other clues. But it was definitely murder. Someone wanted this old woman dead.”

Jack continued reading the report, frowning as he went.

“Damn,” he said softly. “I was rather hoping to be wrong.”

Mac took a bite of the pastry and shot him a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry, Inspector.”

“No, no, I appreciate the report,” he assured her. “And now,” he said with a sigh, “I get to go pull rank and take over this case.”

“Well then you’ll need her effects. They’re on my desk,” Mac said, gesturing through to the office. Jack put down the report and walked inside. When he returned, he was carrying a small paper bag and a book.

“Was this the victim’s as well?” Jack asked.

Mac looked up. “Oh no, no that’s mine. Sorry, shouldn’t have left it there.”

Jack examined the cover. “Are you learning mahjong, Doctor?”

“Trying to improve, actually. A colleague taught me to play and we have a weekly game going.”

“I never took you for someone up on the latest fads.”

“The game is well over a hundred years old, Inspector, I’d hardly call it a fad.”

Jack nodded his head and gave a small downturned smile, conceding her point. Mac studied him closely. He was looking at the book again, not in idle curiosity, but more skimming it for its contents, and an idea struck her.

“Do you play, Inspector?” she asked.

“I dabble,” Jack said. “It’s an interesting game.”

“It is. That colleague I mentioned is a visiting professor from Sydney and it’s extremely popular there.” Jack nodded again, but he was still looking through the book.

“You know,” Mac continued, “he’s actually returning home at the end of the term and as of right now we could use a new fourth. Any interest?”

Jack did look up at that. “Oh I don’t know. I’ve only been playing a short time. I might not be up to your group’s standards.”

“Oh, you’ll do fine,” Mac assured him. “Skill, strategy, calculation, a bit of chance - it’s just like keeping up with that lady detective we’re not talking about.”

Jack snorted at that and Mac smiled.

“Tell you what - come to the next game and see what you think. Worst thing that happens is you hate it and never come back.”

Jack tilted his head, considering. It was an intriguing offer, if only to improve his game. And he had found himself with quite a bit more free time of late.

“Alright,” he agreed. “Why not?”

“Excellent,” Mac said. She walked over to her desk and scribbled down an address. “Next game is here, Thursday night. 7pm.”

“I’ll see you there.” Jack nodded and walked over to put his coat and hat back on. Then he picked up the report and parcel and turned to go. As he did he caught sight of the box he had brought in with him.

“Are you going to eat that second pastry?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said. “But nice try.”

---------------------

At 6:56 that Thursday night, Jack parked his car outside a lovely bookstore two blocks from Jude’s College. The sign said “closed,” but the lights were on inside so he knocked. Mac appeared at the door, unlocked it, and ushered him inside.

“Good evening, Inspector.”

“Good evening, Doctor,” he said, removing his hat and coat and looking for a place to hang them. “This is a charming shop. Are we allowed to be here or have you picked up someone’s bad habits with regard to break and enter?”

“Well,” came a voice from behind him, “I can’t speak to the second part of your question, but you are most definitely allowed to be here.”

Jack turned to see a very pretty woman about his age walking toward them. Her auburn hair was pulled back in a low chignon, which gave her an air of a neat and no-nonsense personality. She wore a conservative blue dress and a very friendly smile, and as she approached she reached out to shake his hand.

“Inspector Robinson,” Mac said, “may I introduce my neighbor and the proprietor of this fine establishment, Mrs Kathleen Morgan.”

“Please,” the woman said, taking his coat and hat and hanging them on a nearby hook, “call me Katie.”

“Jack,” Jack offered in response. “This is a wonderful bookstore.” And it really was. Rows and rows of books, both new and secondhand, stood before him. It had a warm, homey feel but everything was also clearly in its place. This shop was obviously a labor of love.

“Thank you,” Katie said. “I’ve spent the better part of a decade building it up to what you see now, so that’s very nice to hear.”

“Well, the effort shows,” Jack said with a small smile. “Are you just loaning us the space or are you playing tonight as well?”

“Oh, yes, I’m in the game,” she said. “I’m sorry, do you not know the players?”

“Just Mac, I’m afraid.”

“That’s not quite true,” Mac said, from where she had perched herself on a shelf.

“Oh?” Jack asked. “I had rather assumed you were all doctors.”

“No, actually, with my colleague from Sydney gone, I’m the only doctor left. So try not to get sick, alright? I’m here to have fun.”

Jack rolled his eyes and Katie laughed. Then there was a knock at the door and Mac popped up to answer it.

“Hello, Mr B!” she said, throwing the door wide and letting the fourth player in.

Tobias Butler entered the shop with a smile. Additionally, he had a small leather case tucked under his arm.

“Mr Butler,” Jack said in surprise. “I… hello. I wasn’t aware you were joining us.”

“Yes, sir. Dr MacMillan kindly invited me into the game a few months ago and I was delighted to have the opportunity to play again.”

“Well, his game set is so much nicer than mine,” Mac said with a wink.

“That’s actually true,” Katie whispered conspiratorially to Jack. “So,” she said louder, “as we’re all assembled, shall we begin?”

Following Katie, everyone moved into a larger open area in the center of the shop. There they found a card table, and a sideboard with sandwiches, tea, and whisky.

Katie turned to Jack. “Since Mac has clearly been neglectful in properly informing you of the rules, allow me. We alternate locations each week. Host provides a space, light supper, and tea. Also whisky if you don’t want to hear Mac complain.” Mac opened her mouth to do just that, but a knowing look from Katie stopped her. “If you decide to join us,” Katie continued, “you’ll have to host every fourth week. Will that be a problem?”

“Uh, no, no I don’t think so.”

“Ohhhh,” Mac said, eyes bright, “spending time at the Inspector's house... I’ll finally have something interesting to write England about.”

“Well I rather thought I’d host you in the City South cells, Doctor, though you’re still welcome to write about it,” Jack parried with a smirk.

Mac laughed at that and took a seat, the other three following in kind. Mr Butler placed all the tiles on the table face down before going to pour tea for everyone, over the objections of the rest of the group. After rolling to see who would deal - Katie - the four of them then shuffled the tiles in silence, and then waited for Katie to deal them each 13. Seated to her right, Mac went first. They played for a few minutes in silence until Katie finally spoke.

“So, Jack, where did you learn to play?”

“Uh, my mother, actually.”

Mac looked at him in surprise. She’d never heard him mention any family member that didn’t start with the word “ex.”

Jack continued, not having noticed her expression. “She has a group she plays with and sometimes they need an alternate so, as the poor, lonely bachelor of the family, I was called up. But I found I rather enjoyed it.”

“Perhaps it appeals to the detective in you - having to watch what everybody throws off and keep it all in your head,” Mac suggested.

Jack nodded. “That’s very probably true. It’s also very close to rummy, which my mother also made me learn when I was younger. Though I find this to be more... calming, for some reason.”

“It’s the tiles,” Mr Butler said, not looking up from the table. “At least, I’ve found it so. The sound is rhythmic. I find it soothing.”

“Well Dr MacMillan was definitely right, this is a lovely set. Where did you get it?” Jack asked.

“A dear friend in Shanghai sent it to me for my birthday a couple of years ago.”

“An acquaintance from your AIF days?” Jack asked, frowning at his tiles.

“Le Cordon Bleu, actually. He had an idea to fuse traditional Chinese and French dishes. I’m afraid our instructors were not impressed, though I certainly was. Before he left, he taught me a number of Chinese dishes and I helped him perfect his meringue and souffle.”

“And you’re still in touch?” Katie asked.

“Oh yes. He’s opened an extremely successful restaurant in Shanghai. Apparently, it very much appeals to the international crowd there. Perhaps someday I’ll visit and see firsthand.”

“Well, I have it on good authority that your employer is a pushover, so whenever you’re ready, just tell her you’re leaving and go,” Mac said, and Jack tried hard not to read into her certainty of said employer’s return.

“Very good, Doctor,” Mr Butler responded with a smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“And you, Mrs Morgan, how did you come to play?” Jack asked.

“Oh, how do I come to anything?” she asked, gesturing vaguely with her hand in the air. “Books.”

“And this game in particular?”

“Books,” Mac repeated with a smile. “I was buying that one you found on my desk, and Katie mentioned how much she enjoys the game. Bit of luck, that. We only knew each other to say hello before then, but with Katie as our fourth, that book’s actually how our little group started. And, by serendipity of you finding it in my office, how it will continue now that Sydney has once again claimed Dr Carney.”

“If I decide to stay,” Jack reminded her, still frowning at his tiles.

“Oh you will. You’re already hooked, I can tell. Plus, next week Mr Butler’s making the sandwiches.”

At that, Jack’s frown immediately disappeared, and he mentally cleared his Thursday nights for the foreseeable future.

---------------------

That first night had been fun. Mac had been the ultimate victor, but Jack had won enough hands to feel confident in his playing skills, and the conversation had been easy and enjoyable. Mrs Morgan was smart and well-read, and there seemed to be no limit to Mr Butler’s insights. When Jack got home at half eleven that night, he was surprised by the late hour and looking forward to the following Thursday.

Which is how, seven days later, he found himself back at Wardlow for the first time in over two months.

He hadn’t been avoiding it, exactly, but it was... strange, being here. Without her. He reminded himself sternly that it was just a house and walked swiftly up to the front door. He knocked before he could change his mind and Mr Butler let him in, smiling as he took Jack’s hat and coat.

“Good evening, Inspector.”

“Good evening, Mr Butler.” Jack tried not to, but his eyes immediately flew to the parlour doors. In a house full of memories, the parlour held almost too many, and Jack didn’t relish the idea of being tossed in the deep end as he learned to navigate these seas alone. However, when he looked he found the doors closed, which was definitely unusual.

“I thought we might play in the kitchen tonight, sir, if you don’t mind. I haven’t had a chance to tidy the parlour.”

Bless Mr B and his insights.

“Not at all, Mr Butler,” Jack said, following him into the kitchen. “Did Dr MacMillan say there were sandwiches?”

---------------------

Mac hosted next and Jack would be a liar if he didn’t admit he was a bit curious to see her flat for the first time. He arrived just before seven, and discovered that when she’d called Katie her neighbor, she wasn’t kidding. There were three flats above the bookstore - Katie had the first, closest to the shop, and Mac had the third, with access to the roof.

The flat itself reminded him of the woman who lived there - smart, no nonsense, but with a very definite style. There was more artwork than he’d imagined, and fewer damned cravats lying about, but otherwise it was very close to what he’d pictured. The kitchen seemed to be rarely used, but the desk almost groaned under the weight of books and papers. There was a wireless, which he thought was probably an indulgence for her, and several plants, which surprised him as little as well. Then again, she was a doctor and saved lives - no reason that should only apply to people.

She also had a cat, which quite frankly shocked him. He had assumed that, like himself, the doctor was too busy for pets, and not home enough to care for one properly. But this cat seemed well loved and immaculately groomed. It walked right over to Jack and rubbed itself on his trouser leg. Jack bent down to pet it, and it purred in response.

“I see you’ve met HippoCATes,” Katie said from the kitchen, where she was assembling a plate of food.

Jack snorted and looked up at her.

“That is terrible,” he said.

“I didn’t name her,” Katie said, holding her hands up in defence. “I just help take care of her for Mac. And we call her Hippa for short.”

“That’s kind of you,” Jack said, standing and moving into the kitchen to make himself a plate as well.

“The cat-sitting or the nickname?” she asked with a grin.

“Both,” he said, returning the expression.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” she shrugged off, still smiling. “Mac works all these long hours, and I’m usually off work with nothing to do by suppertime. Plus, I have a fairly easy commute.”

“That is lucky,” he agreed. “How did you come by it, if you don’t mind my asking.”

“My late husband,” Katie said, her smile transforming into a more neutral expression. “He acquired both the shop and the flat around the turn of the century, but he never really knew what to do with either. But I had all these dreams of turning it into a first-rate bookstore and he let me run with them. We’d only been married about six months before he left for the War. He… he never came back, I’m afraid. He died at Gallipoli.”

“I’m sorry,” Jack said, memories of his own time there rushing forward, unwelcome and unwanted. He shook them off as best he could and returned his focus to the woman in front of him. “You must miss him terribly.”

“Thank you,” she said with a tight smile. “He was a very kind man. He did so much for me and… he deserved so much more than what he got.”

She excused herself then, and Jack puzzled slightly at her response, but ultimately let it go. People grieved in their own way, and it had been a long time after all.

The foursome played that night on a card table in Mac’s sitting room. Once the tiles had been dealt and the game begun in earnest, the conversation started.

“Oh, Doctor,” Jack said, looking at his tiles and not particularly liking what he saw, “I’ve been meaning to ask you - if I sent you over some autopsy reports, would you take a look at them for me?”

“Something wrong with the original findings, Inspector?” she asked, only briefly taking her eyes off the game to answer.

“I don’t know yet, but I think maybe something was overlooked. It’s in relation to the Leah Gibson inquiry.”

Mac looked up fully at that. She knew Jack had been investigating, was getting nowhere, and was taking it harder than he’d admit.

“Of course,” she said. “Just have them sent over to the morgue. I’ll look first thing tomorrow.”

“I thought you were off tomorrow,” Jack said.

“I am. Send them over anyway.”

---------------------

Friday morning three autopsy files arrived at Mac’s office, along with half a dozen lemon pastries.

---------------------

The first time Jack hosted, he actually took the day off work and cleaned his house from top to bottom to prepare. It’s not that he never had guests, he did. It’s just that his guests were usually his immediate family or his mates, and, frankly, the combination of Dr MacMillan and Mr Butler had a very “in-law” feeling to it, which was both silly and terrifying, and he decided over-prepared was better than under.

Mrs Morgan was the first to arrive, her general geniality putting him at ease, as it so often did.

“Oh, I like your house, Jack.”

“Thank you. The table is all set up in the sitting room.”

“Do you have a library?” she asked.

“I do.”

“Would you mind if I perused it while we wait for the others? I’m always interested in the books with which someone chooses to surround themselves.”

“Be my guest,” he said, showing her through to the study which he also used as a library, though the small desk and cabinet had long ago been overwhelmed by the books.

By coincidence, Mac and Mr Butler arrived together about ten minutes later, and while they were setting up the tiles Katie rejoined the group.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been by this week to go over those three new reports yet,” Mac said to Jack as they rolled to see who would deal. “Between classes and the morgue, I’ve been swamped all week. But I noticed a few things you’ll want to follow up on.”

“Oh?” Jack asked.

“Yes, all three were ruled natural causes, but two of them have quite a few red flags if you know to look. In the Squires report, for instance, the body was found with crossed limbs, which is odd because most people who die a natural death never realize what’s happening, so their limbs are relaxed. If they’re being strangled, however, the body tenses and the limbs cross. So if you include Mrs Gibson - and I’m assuming you do because you said these three were related to that case - I think you’re looking at three murders cleverly disguised to look like natural causes and one who actually did die that way.” She handed him a small stack of files out of her bag. “Here. I made some notes. Let me know if you want me to follow up with the coroners who ruled on the first three.”

“Thank you, Doctor, this is most helpful.”

“So do you want to tell me now what the connection is between these people? I assume you didn’t just choose three elderly people at random to have me look into.”

Jack shook his head. “No. No, Jeffrey Lucas, Lillie Squires, Clyde Myers and Leah Gibson are all cousins, all over the age of 70, and all died within the last four months.”

“Well that’s not so unusual, is it? Given their ages?”

“Indeed. It is unlikely anyone would have looked twice if you hadn’t declared Mrs Gibson’s death a homicide, especially as Jeffrey Lucas - the first death - seems to have actually been from natural causes. I’d almost certainly have gotten nowhere with my inquiries. But as it stands, I have one murder, two possible murders, and a very strong connection. So thank you again.”

Mac nodded and went to pour herself a whisky from the cart Jack had placed near the table. When she returned, she took her seat and joined the others to shuffle the tiles.

Soon after they’d begun playing, Katie brought up her favorite subject - books.

“Your library is very impressive, Jack.”

“Thank you. Not quite a full bookstore, but I do my best.”

“So what’s your favorite book?” she asked, elbow on table, hand on chin.

Jack tapped one of his tiles against the table as he contemplated her question. “Probably my collected Shakespeare.”

“Oh, a Shakespeare man. Very interesting,” Katie said. “Were you a Shakespeare boy as well?”

“No. Actually, I didn’t really start to appreciate the Bard until I returned from France.”

Katie nodded, her expression sypthathic but not pitying, and for the first time Jack realized how very much he liked the woman. “So what was your favorite book as a boy?” she asked, subtly shifting the conversation.

“Hmmmm. Well the first book I really remember loving was Moby Dick.”

“Really?” Mac asked. “Awfully dense, that. More murder weapon than reading material.”

“Oh no,” Jack said. “It’s actually a very funny book. Ishmael is… well he’s a bit like one of Shakespeare's clowns actually - equal parts philosopher and jester. And of course as a teenaged boy I appreciated all the, uh,” Jack coughed and looked around the table, “the more ribald humor as well.”

“Oh you mean the phallic jokes,” Mac said, to which Jack offered a slightly embarrassed nod. “Never had much use for those myself,” she added with a wink, which for some odd reason made him feel less embarrassed, not more. Katie just laughed at the exchange and Mr Butler hid a smile behind his tea cup.

“What about you, Doctor?” Jack asked. “What was your favorite book growing up?”

“Little Women,” she responded without hesitation. Jack raised his eyebrows in surprise, but Mac just shrugged. “I liked the sisterly bond. And I knew a girl who reminded me of Beth who also left us too early.” At that her eyes flew to Jack’s almost of their own accord and the two shared a private moment of understanding. “Anyway, in the book I always thought if Beth had had a better doctor she might have made it. It’s what first made me want to become a doctor.”

“And Melbourne is the better for it,” Jack said sincerely, raising his whisky in toast.

Both Katie and Mr Butler raised their tea as well.

Mac just rolled her eyes at the compliment and nodded to Mr Butler.

“And what about you, Mr B? Favorite book as a youth?”

“Hmmm, I suppose that would have to be The Swiss Family Robinson. Excitement, adventure, a family tossed into an extraordinary situation - what more could a young man ask for?”

“Too right,” Jack agreed. The book was a favorite of his as well, and not just for the shared family name. “Well, Mrs Morgan, that just leaves you.”

“Oh, you beast, making me choose a favorite book!” she exclaimed in mock horror. “But, I suppose if I must… anything and everything by Jane Austen.”

“Oh no, you don’t,” Jack chastised, “you need to pick one.”

“Hmph,” she grunted. “Fine. Pride and Prejudice then. But I only choose under duress.”

“Noted,” Jack said dryly.

“Why that one?” Mac asked, stopping her play and looking at Katie curiously.

“Miss Elizabeth Bennet,” Katie said with a fond smile. “She was so strong and clever and independent. And the way she stands up to Lady Catherine at the end - oh, I wanted to be that bold!”

“Ah, the ‘obstinate, headstrong girl’ speech, yes?” Jack asked.

“Precisely,” Katie confirmed.

“Well,” Mac said, raising her glass in her own toast, “here’s to obstinate, headstrong girls everywhere.”

The others joined her in the toast, and, just for a moment, Jack thought of England.

---------------------

The next week they were back at the bookstore, Jack having arrived almost 20 minutes early to peruse her shelves in advance. He briefly wondered if perhaps that was rude, but as he fully intended to buy something, decided it was probably fine. He had just settled on a new book by Edna Ferber when he heard Mr Butler arrive.

“Good evening, Mr Butler,” Jack called as he walked to the register where Katie was working on a ledger.

“Good evening, sir, Mrs Morgan,” the older man said affably, taking the tile set over to the table.

Jack handed Katie his book and pulled out his wallet to pay. She tallied it up and told him the price, to which Jack raised his eyebrows.

“That doesn’t seem like enough,” he noted.

“Friends and family discount,” she said. Jack opened his mouth to protest but Katie’s look - which was so effective he wondered briefly if Mac was giving her lessons - stopped him.

“Thank you,” he said instead, paying the small amount she’d quoted him.

They were just joining Mr Butler at the table when Mac entered the shop, locking the door behind her.

“Good evening, all. And how are we tonight?” she inquired, taking a seat.

“Can’t complain, Doctor. And yourself?” Jack asked.

“Stuffed. That pie cart lunch was enormous. Where did you find that place anyway?”

“It’s good, isn’t it?” Jack said. “They always set up behind the courthouse, you just have to know where to look.”

“Did you have court today, Mac?” Katie asked, dealing the tiles to the group.

“Yes, unfortunately. Though the Inspector was there too - it was a case we both worked last summer - and was kind enough to show me the best place for lunch. Which I appreciated right up until now.”

Jack raised an eyebrow in question.

“I’m too full for Katie’s cottage pie,” Mac lamented and Katie laughed.

“It will be just as delicious in two hours when you are hungry,” she assured the doctor.

“But cold,” Mac grumbed.

Katie rolled her eyes. “I’m sure with enough whisky it will feel warm.”

Mac stuck her tongue out and looked at her tiles. The group began playing, drawing and discarding tiles and chatting about their respective days. About three hands into the game, Jack looked up from his tiles and addressed Mac.

“Oh, Doctor, I meant to ask you - could you come to my office around half eleven on Monday? I’m talking to the Sergeants who oversaw the other two inquiries you flagged as possible homicides and I’d like you to be there to go over the reports.”

“Uh, yes, that should work. If you think I’d be helpful. I didn’t actually perform the autopsies.”

“Still, you’ve been an enormous asset to the investigation and I’d appreciate your continued insights.”

“Then I’ll be there.” She paused to draw a tile, her face indicating her annoyance at the selection. “Did you have any questions about that stabbing report I sent over this morning - ”

“Oh, you two and the murders,” Katie exclaimed. “All day! You need a hobby.” When Mac gestured in front of her to the game before them, Katie just rolled her eyes. “Alright I’m making a rule,” she announced. “No more shop talk after… ” she paused and reached over to grab Mac’s arm to look at her watch, “eight.”

“What happened to your watch?” Mac asked.

“Oh, it broke,” Katie said with a sigh. “I keep meaning to get it fixed - ”

“But you can never find the time?” Mac supplied, her tone dry but her eyes dancing with humor.

Katie groaned, and got up to refresh her tea cup, asking if anyone wanted anything. Mac decided to try some of that cottage pie after all, so a break in play was called.

Jack joined Katie by the tea things.

“I apologize, Mrs Morgan, if our discussion was distressing you.”

Katie looked up in surprise. “Oh no, I find it fascinating. But I think it does Mac good to focus on other things every once and while. You too, I suspect. And I get enough of it myself already.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, my shop is so close to the College that students are forever coming in looking for specific medical books. Mac’s been helping me update my reference section.”

“Has she? That’s very thoughtful of her.”

“Oh yes. She’s… well I’m very lucky she’s around.”

“As are we all, Mrs Morgan, as are we all.”

---------------------

In December, the quartet had an unplanned Kris Kringle. Katie had mentioned earlier in the month that she had something for Jack, and when Mac had joked about being left out, Katie had made the group draw names for small Christmas gifts to be given at the next week’s game.

When said evening rolled around, Jack arrived at Mac’s with a large paper bag in one hand, and a bottle of very good whisky in the other.

“For the hostess,” he said, when Mac opened the door.

“Well Happy Christmas to me,” she said, reading the label and letting him in.

Everyone else was there already and Jack shrugged off his coat and hat, hanging them on the stand he remembered from his first visit. The mahjong tiles were still in Mr Butler’s case, and Katie was pouring mulled wine into cups on the table instead.

“Presents first!” she announced, and both Mac and Jack laughed at her excitement. Mr Butler smiled fondly and took a sip of his wine. It was the first time Jack had seen him drink anything besides tea in the seven weeks they’d been playing and he found himself oddly pleased that the older man felt comfortable enough to indulge.

Once everyone was seated, Katie reached under the table and pulled up a small, wrapped rectangular package. She handed it to Jack with a smile. Jack carefully removed the paper and discovered inside a copy of The Hash Knife Outfit by Zane Grey. His mouth opened slightly in surprise.

“How… this was just published, Mrs Morgan. However did you get a copy so quickly?”

“Perks of the trade, Jack. I noticed your extensive Zane Grey collection when we were playing at your house and made some inquiries. I hope you enjoy it.”

“I definitely will. Thank you,” he said sincerely. “This is incredibly kind.”

“It’s nothing,” she said with a wave of her hand, “but I’m glad you like it. Now,” she said, taking a sip of her wine, “Kris Kringle rules - you go next, Jack.”

Jack tore his eyes from the book and nodded, reaching down for the large bag he had brought in with him.

“Mr Butler,” he said, handing the other man the bag. “Happy Christmas.”

Mr Butler opened the bag and took out a small green plant with thick, soft spiked leaves.

“It’s an aloe plant,” Jack said. “Good for burns, or so my mother swears. I thought perhaps with all the baking…”

“An extremely thoughtful gift, sir, thank you,” Mr Butler replied. “Your mother is correct, you know. I used to have one, when I first started out in service, but I haven’t in years. I’m afraid that of the two of us, Mrs Butler always had the greener thumb.”

Jack didn’t think he’d ever heard the man mention his late wife before and realized it was significant, though he didn’t know exactly why.

“Well, I do a bit of gardening myself,” Jack said, “and I’d be happy to check on it for you. Make sure it’s doing well, that sort of thing.”

“I would appreciate that, sir. Thank you.”

“Wonderful!” Katie exclaimed. “Alright, you’re up next Mr B!”

Mr Butler stood up and picked up a parcel off the kitchen counter. Then he returned to the group and handed it to Mac.

Mac opened it to find two boxes, one brimming with traditional Shortbread, the other with a hard, golden, fudge-like concoction Jack quickly recognized as Scottish tablet. For a moment, she looked speechless and almost overcome. But Mac was rarely overcome for long.

“Thank you Mr B, this is… this is lovely,” she said.

“You are quite welcome, Doctor MacMillan,” he replied with a smile.

“Oh Mac,” Katie exclaimed, peering over the doctor’s shoulder and looking in the box, “isn’t that what your nan used to give you?” she asked.

Mac nodded, took a bite of one of the shortbreads and smiled. It was a wide, unguarded smile, the likes of which she rarely shared with a crowd.

Then she offered the boxes to the others; Jack and Mr Butler each took a shortbread, and Katie a piece of tablet. They agreed as a group that Mr B was an angel incarnate.

“Well, Mrs Morgan, that just leaves your gift,” Jack noted.

“So it does,” Mac agreed, standing to retrieve something from her desk. She handed a small box to Katie who eagerly opened it.

She looked inside, a small furrow of confusion on her forehead.

“It’s my watch,” she said.

“It is,” Mac agreed. “And now it works. I had it repaired.”

Katie’s face lit up and she held the watch to her ear to hear it tick.

“So you did! Thank you, Mac. I’d say I’ll never be late again, but we both know that’s not true.”

Mac hesitated for a moment, then pointed to the watch. “I, uh, added an inscription. On the back. I hope that’s alright.”

Katie turned it over and looked at the other side. Then she burst out laughing and turned it to show the group.

‘Property of an obstinate, headstrong girl.’

When Katie finally stopped laughing, she wiped the tears from her eyes, and smiled at her friend. “It’s wonderful, Mac, thank you.”

By the time they were done with the gifts and food - Mac had procured much more than a “light supper” in honor of the occasion - they decided it was too late to start a game, so they each got another glass of wine and headed out to the roof instead.

As the only one with roof access in the building, Mac had turned the space into a private patio, with a small table, two chairs and lights. Katie and Mac opted to sit, while the gentlemen stood at the rail. It was warm, cloudless night, and for a time no one spoke, each lost in their own thoughts and comfortable enough with each other by that point not to worry about the silence. Then Jack saw a shooting star, the first since Collins’ wedding, and briefly felt the most undignified urge to cry. Mac saw the star too, stood, and walked over to him.

“She’s coming back,” she said softly, so the others couldn’t hear.

“Mmmmm,” he said, noncommittally. He kept his eyes skyward, and ironically remembered that he wasn’t a telescope either.

“She is,” Mac said firmly. “And even if I wasn’t sure, which I am, it’s Christmas, Jack. The time for miracles and surprises of all kinds. So keep the faith.”

He had appreciated his gift tonight, more than he could say, but he found himself greedy for one more all the same. He watched the stars, and sipped his wine, and made the same wish he had in September.

He hoped this time it came true.

---------------------

They decided not to meet on Boxing Day, as both Jack and Mac had family commitments to attend, so the next Mahjong Night was held on the second night of 1930.

Early in the game, Jack looked at the clock to be sure it was well before eight, and turned to Mac.

“There’s a fifth cousin,” he announced.

“Really?” she said, pausing her move to look at him fully.

“Yes. There was some confusion because of a typo at Hatch, Match, Dispatch, but we’ve just confirmed it. Mrs Mary Anderson, aged 74. We’ve put her under surveillance for now.”

“Have you come up with a suspect yet?”

“No, but I’ve got a request in for some deed information. If I’m correct, I may finally have a motive.”

“Well, keep me updated,” Mac said.

“I will,” he promised, discarding a particularly unhelpful tile with pleasure.

“So,” Katie said, once it became obvious Mac and Jack were done discussing their case. “New year, new decade even. What are everyone’s resolutions?”

“I thought I might try to win more hands, Mrs Morgan,” Jack said dryly, eyeing another unhelpful tile.

“Well if you can handle two resolutions at once, I have another one for you, Jack. I thought, perhaps, you could try calling me ‘Katie’?”

Jack tilted his head, considering. They were friends, after all, And there was no real reason to keep the formality amongst the four of them.

“Perhaps, if you’re amenable, I could try ‘Kathleen’ to start? Baby step, as it were.”

“Alright,” she agreed with a smile. “Baby steps.”

“Speaking of names,” Mac said. “I keep meaning to ask; Robinson - is that Scottish?”

“It is,” Jack confirmed. “Proud Scots on my father’s side.”

“And on your mother’s?” she asked.

“Even prouder Scots.”

Mac laughed, understanding all too well what he meant.

“So,” Jack continued with a twinkle in his eye. “MacMillan? Spanish, I assume?

“Olé,” she replied with a wink.

Katie giggled, and turned to the fourth member of their group.

“And what about you, Mr B? What do you say - could you consider calling me by my first name too? New decade after all.”

Mr Butler smiled. “Perhaps try me again in the new millennium,” he responded, and promptly won the hand.

---------------------

“Well no mystery here, he died of a knife wound.”

Mac stood over the body in her morgue as Jack looked over the victim with her.

“No mystery on my end either - argument in a pub taken to a tragic end.”

Mac nodded and then looked at the clock. It was later than she’d realized and she began preparing to leave for the day.

“Oh, Inspector, I was wondering how that deed search went on the Gibson case?”

“It was very illuminating,” Jack said. “There is a piece of land, by all accounts worthless, that Jeffrey Lucas owned. When he died it went to the next oldest cousin - Lillie Squires. Apparently it will pass to all the cousins before any of their children.”

“Do any of the victims have children?” Mac asked.

“Yes, though not all are still living. Of the ones that are, Jeffrey Lucas had a son, Lillie Squires had two daughters and Leah Gibson one son and one daughter.”

“Five suspects, then.”

“Perhaps. If that’s even the motive. I’m trying to figure out why this particular piece of land would be worth three murders.”

“And why now,” Mac said, putting on her suit coat. “I mean, why did they even need to be killed? The victims were all pretty elderly. They were all likely to die in the next five years anyway. Clyde Myers wouldn’t have even made it the year, as far as I can tell from his autopsy notes. So why the rush?”

“An excellent question, Doctor.”

“And one I am sure you’ll answer soon enough. In the meantime, I am off to find sustenance and whisky. In that order. Probably.”

Jack considered for a moment, tapping his finger on the table.

“I was actually just headed to dinner myself, if you’d care to join me.”

Mac made a thoughtful expression, before nodding. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned, Jack, it’s that you know all the best places to eat.”

Jack smiled. “Every gentleman needs a hobby.”

Mac gestured to the door. “Lead on then,” she said, before putting on her hat and tossing him his.

Jack held open the door and together they made their way to dinner.

---------------------

Mac burst into the bookshop, nearly knocking over a display in her haste to get to Jack.

“You got him?” she asked, addressing Jack, who was already seated at the card table.

“We did.”

“How?”

“The officer we had posted at Mrs Anderson’s spotted our suspect there and called it in. We caught him in the act.”

“And Mrs Anderson?”

“She’s fine,” Jack assured her. “Checked over and released from the hospital already.”

“How did you know it was him?” Mac asked, pulling up a chair and leaning in.

“Well,” Jack began, realizing as he spoke that both Katie and Mr Butler were now also listening. “Of all the suspects, Matthew Lucas - Jeffrey Lucas’ son - was the only one whose parent actually died of natural causes. So I looked into him. He works for Victorian Railways as a clerk. I spoke to a contact there, and it looks like that worthless piece of land is right where they are looking to build a new line; as such, it will likely become very profitable in the near future. The next month or so, actually.”

“Hence the hurry…” Mac said.

“Exactly. And once he realized I was looking into him, Mr Lucas seems to have panicked and gone after Mrs Anderson immediately.” Jack looked a little pleased at the next part. “He’s made a full confession.”

“Well done, Jack. Mrs Gibson gets justice after all,” Mac said squeezing his hand in support.

“Thank you, Mac,” he replied sincerely. “And thank you for all your help.”

“Well,” Katie announced, “I think this calls for something stronger than tea, don’t you, Mr B?”

“Absolutely,” he agreed, opening a bottle of champagne - and Jack would wonder where that had come from but he’d long ago realized Mr Butler was magic - and pouring it into tea cups.

Katie picked up two cups and brought them over to the table, handing one to Jack and one to Mac. As she did so, she rolled her eyes at the doctor and reached over to remove the hat from Mac’s head.

“Perhaps you’d like to stay a while?” she asked with a smile, taking the hat over to the rack before returning to the table where Mr Butler had placed her own cup as well as his.

“To justice,” Katie said, raising her cup.

Jack looked around the table, raised his glass, and smiled.

---------------------

“Where is he?” Katie said, storming into Mac’s flat like a cyclone. “Where’s Jack?”

“Good evening to you too, Kathleen,” Jack said placidly from the kitchen where he was making a plate of food.

“Is it true?” she asked without preamble.

“Is what true?”

“Did the Victorian Constabulary petition the Chief Commissioner to dismiss Mac?”

Jack raised an eyebrow at the question. He hadn’t realized that was common knowledge.

“I’m not sure what you’ve heard, but - ”

“Just answer the damn question, Jack. Is it true?”

“Yes. But - ”

“You ungrateful galah! Do you realize what an asset Mac is to your investigations? Are you really that insecure that you’d rather have an incompetent male coroner than a brilliant woman? Who the hell - ”

“Katie,” Mac said from the doorway where she had appeared during the other woman’s rant, “it’s alright.”

“It absolutely is not!” Katie exclaimed.

“May I explain?” Jack said, looking between the two women.

Katie crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. “You can try.”

“Thank you.” Jack put down his sandwiches and gave Katie his full attention. “Thirty,” he said simply.

“What?” she asked, confused.

“Thirty members of the Victorian Constabulary - including one Detective Inspector and five Senior Sergeants - signed and delivered a petition just after the new year to have Mac dismissed, for, from what I can tell, reasons that boiled down to ‘but she’s a woman.’ I assume they thought they spoke for the majority of the force. They did not.”

“No?” Katie asked, arms still crossed.

“No. As of yesterday, I delivered a petition to the Chief Commissioner signed by over 250 members - including three Senior Detective Inspectors, fifteen Detective Inspectors and over fifty Senior Sergeants - that stated in no uncertain terms that Dr MacMillan’s insight, professionalism and competence was second to none. I believe the matter is closed now, but should more signatures be necessary, I am fully prepared to collect them.”

Katie’s mouth hung open and, for once, she seemed speechless.

“I trust I am forgiven?” Jack added, a slight smirk hiding in the corners of his mouth.

“Katie,” Mac said quietly, “I very much appreciate the support, but I’m fine.”

Katie turned from Mac to Jack, an embarrassed expression on her face.

“I… I’m sorry, Jack. I heard… well, it doesn’t matter what I heard. I shouldn’t have doubted you.”

“It’s fine, Kathleen. I appreciate your loyalty to the good Doctor. It just so happens that I share it.”

Katie nodded, a tremulous smile on her face.

“Yes,” Mac said, leaning against the counter and helping herself to a biscuit. “As it turns out, Jack’s rather good at rallying the troops.”

“Thank you, but you should know Hugh was extremely helpful as well. You know, I think he was even more angry than me,” Jack said, picking his plate back up and continuing to stack it high with sandwiches. “Though I suspect that particular fire was being stoked by Mrs Collins as well.”

“You know what they say, ‘righteous indignation begins at home.’” Mac quipped and Jack laughed.

“I think I need to meet these two,” Katie said, watching the exchange fondly. “To thank them myself.”

“Yes,” Mac said, “I really think you do.”

Which is how, almost two weeks later, Jack hosted his first ever dinner party for the Wardlow family.

He thought he would feel sad at her absence, but looking around the room, he realized she wasn't.

---------------------

The next time they played at Mac’s, Jack lost handily. He decided to drown his sorrows in Mr Butler’s Victoria sponge (despite being told repeatedly that he didn’t need to, Mr Butler always brought extra food) which was, as always, delicious. And as Jack returned to the table he told the older man as much.

“Thank you, sir, I’m most pleased you enjoy it.”

“You know, Mr Butler, I don’t know why you insist on calling me ‘sir’ when you’ve no trouble trouncing me each week,” Jack said with a wry chuckle.

“Yes, I don’t suppose you’re ready for those baby steps yet?” Katie added. Jack knew she was hoping the man would address her by her first name someday.

Mr Butler smiled at them and then looked down at his tiles.

“Did I ever tell you all about my Uncle William?” he asked.

“Uh, no, Mr Butler, I don’t believe you have.” Jack said, slightly confused by the non sequitur.

“Uncle William was a butler in Sydney for a very important member of government. He was, by all accounts, the best at what he did - Uncle William, that is, not the government official. Uncle William loved his work, and he was very fond of the family he served. And he would, if he saw me today, be absolutely horrified.”

At that, the other three players stopped what they doing, but Mr Butler calmly continued on.

“Uncle William, like every member of service and every person who employed them, appreciated and upheld certain boundaries and distinctions between the two.” Mr Butler picked up a tile, examined it, and then continued speaking. “When I took this post, I imagined a quiet prelude to retirement.”

Mac couldn’t help an involuntary snort at that, to which Mr Butler only smiled wide.

“Quite right, Doctor. Instead, I was tossed into an extraordinary household the likes of which would almost certainly have given my Uncle William an apoplexy. What I got from it though, was... excitement. And adventure. And family.” As he glanced up from his tiles, he looked at each player in turn before continuing. “I find I quite like progress. It’s a new decade after all. But, I assure you, this is already much more than a baby step; this quite a giant leap.”

There were all quiet for a moment after that.

“Well, Mr B,” Mac said finally, her voice surprisingly emotional even to her, “from one castaway to another - we’re very glad you made the leap.”

“Thank you, Doctor. So am I.”

Shortly after, Mr Butler won the night, said his goodbyes and left to return home to Wardlow.

“I think that’s my cue too,” Katie said and Jack looked at her in surprise. Katie usually stayed later than him when they played at Mac’s. “Early morning,” she explained. “Meeting with an author about a reading.” She lay a hand on Mac’s forearm and mock pleaded, “if you have any extra coffee in the morning, please bring it my way.”

“Of course,” Mac replied. “Good luck.”

Jack turned to leave himself when he noticed that Mac was getting out the bottle of whisky he’d given her at Christmas.

“Fancy a nightcap, Jack?” she asked.

Jack considered. It was getting late, but as it happened, he wasn’t due in until noon the next day.

“Why not?” he said.

By unspoken mutual agreement they headed out to the roof, each taking a seat in one of the chairs and sipping their whisky quietly. The sky was remarkably clear, and Jack watched the stars and appreciated the whisky and enjoyed the companionable silence. A silence which was broken a moment later by Mac humming the opening bars of "Roamin' in the Gloamin.”

Jack nearly snorted out his whisky.

“Really?” he asked. “Harry Lauder?”

Mac looked almost offended.

“You’re Scottish, Jack. Surely you’re a fan of Sir Harry Lauder.”

“Well my father certainly is,” Jack said. “I’ve been subjected to Lauder’s recording of ‘I Love a Lassie’ more times than I care to remember. And I have ‘Roamin' in the Gloamin’ well and truly memorized by this point. Against my will, I might add,” he said, pointing a finger at her to emphasise the point.

Mac grinned and began her song again, this time with the lyrics. “One nicht in the gloamin' we were trippin' side by side. I kissed her twice, and asked her once if she would be my bride; She was shy, and so was I, we were baith the same…” Mac trailed off and looked up at the stars, quiet once again.

“Are you alright, Mac?” Jack asked. Admittedly, this wasn’t his first whisky of the evening, but he could still sense a change in her demeanor. This silence felt more contemplative than companionable.

“Fine, Jack. Just appreciating Sir Harry’s genius.”

“I thought, perhaps, you were thinking of someone else.”

Mac looked at him sharply.

“Why would you think that?”

After a moment’s hesitation, Jack sang the line she had left off. “But I got brave and braver on the journey comin' hame.’” When he was done, he cleared his throat and spoke once more, but softly this time, “I thought maybe you were thinking of being brave?”

“I’m already brave,” she said, turning away from him. “I regularly ride with someone in their Hispano-Suiza.”

Jack opened his mouth, a sarcastic retort on his lips, but stopped himself before he could say it. Maybe it was the clear skies, or Mr Butler’s giant leap, or just the copious amounts of whisky, but Jack decided that tonight sincerity was called for instead.

“Mac… I don’t know if what I’m about to say will be appreciated or even welcome. And, if you’ll forgive the game terminology, I know I can’t begin to understand how difficult it must be for you to form a pair - lord knows it’s difficult enough when you’re just overcoming a person’s serial break and enter record.”

Mac snorted at that.

“But you’re a woman of intellect, heart and courage, and you deserve happiness. And I might not have your specific insights in this...matter, but I am a detective and what I can tell you is this - Mrs Morgan doesn’t like mahjong.”

“What?” Mac said with obvious surprise.

“She doesn’t like the game. Oh she knows how to play, certainly, but she doesn’t actually like it. Trust me, I’m both a professional investigator and extremely familiar with women who find all these types of games tedious. Which begs the question, why did she tell you how much she enjoys it? And why does she spend every Thursday night playing?”

“The company,” Mac offered, looking at him out of the corner of her eye.

“Almost certainly,” Jack said, and then turned his head to look at her deliberately. “But not me. And not Mr Butler, charming though we both may be.”

Mac didn’t say anything for a moment and Jack didn’t push it.

“She was married,” Mac finally reminded him quietly.

“Yes and she’d absolutely be the first person ever to enter a marriage for reasons other than romantic love.”

Mac looked down at her glass then and stared at its contents in silence.

“Or perhaps I’m wrong,” Jack continued. “Clearly I’m not an expert on any of this. If I were…” he stopped and looked back up at the stars.

Mac raised her head and eyed him suspiciously. “Well, go on, Jack. I think we’ve left ‘keep it professional’ well and truly in the dust by now.”

“It’s nothing. I haven’t received a letter in a while is all.” Mac opened her mouth to speak, but Jack cut her off before she could say anything. “But that’s not the issue at hand.”

“Which is?” Mac asked.

“Whether or not you’re going to be brave,” Jack replied.

“Katie’s friendship is very important to me, Jack. What if I… what if she doesn’t feel the same? What if I ruin what we have now?”

“Believe me, that’s a concern I am well acquainted with,” Jack assured her. “And I can’t even tell you it all worked out for me because I still don’t know if it will. But I can tell you three things: one is that, after a few missteps of my own, I do believe the risk is worth it. Two, our friendly bookstore proprietor is a genuinely good person who also deserves to be happy.” He stood then, and put his empty glass down on the table. Then he turned and looked at Mac directly. “And three, Mrs Morgan doesn’t like mahjong.”

Then he walked, a bit wobbly, back to the small door that led inside. As he was reentering the flat, he noticed Mac had turned her attention back to the sky.

“Forgive me if I’ve overstepped, Doctor,” he said, “it just felt important to say.” Then he left her to her thoughts and the company of stars.

---------------------

The following Tuesday, Mac barged into Jack’s office, ignoring the constable who tried to stop her and quieting him with a pointed look before shutting the door behind her. She tossed her hat on the desk and took a seat, putting her feet up on some reports.

Jack looked up from his paperwork.

“Good afternoon, Mac, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I just wanted to let you know we’re going to have to postpone this week’s game. I’ve already sent word to Mr Butler.”

“Oh?” Jack asked. “Do you have… other plans?”

“As it happens, I do. Katie and I are attending a concert.”

“Are you then? Sounds… musical.”

“Mmm hmmm.”

“And, is it... just the concert?”

“We might get a bite to eat beforehand,” she said, far too casually for it to actually be casual.

Jack nodded and looked back down at his paperwork, a smile lurking in the corners of his mouth.

“Oh, shut up,” she said.

“I didn’t say anything,” he protested.

“No, but you were thinking it loudly and that’s just as annoying.”

Jack leaned back in his seat, placed his hands over his stomach and smiled fully.

“I’m happy for you, Mac. And Mrs Morgan. You’re… well suited.”

Mac gave him what could only be called an epic eye roll before responding. “One, no more mahjong analogies, and two, we’ll just see how this goes, alright? Baby steps,” she said.

“Of course,” he agreed.

“But, thank you,” she said in a tone of such sincerity it actually caught Jack off guard. “I perhaps needed the kick in the pants, and for a man you have surprisingly good aim.”

“Well then, perhaps my dreams of playing for Abbotsford can be resurrected yet,” he responded dryly, but the look he gave her revealed his affection and appreciation for her sentiment.

“I wouldn’t count on it, Jack,” she said, “you’re still extremely old.”

Jack laughed at that and Mac winked, standing and putting her hat back on as she did. Then she pulled something from her suit pocket.

“I’m afraid you wouldn’t be able to make the game this Thursday in any case,” she said.

“Oh?” he asked. “And where will I be?”

Mac reached across the desk to hand him a piece of paper.

“Name and docking information for a ship arriving from England this Thursday. Probably why you haven’t received a letter in a while.”

At Jack’s shocked expression, Mac just shrugged.

“You know her. Wanted to surprise you. But I think, perhaps, it would be good for you both if you surprised her for a change. And good luck with that. I mean it.”

“I know you do. And thank you.” He looked at the paper again before folding it up. “Mac, it says here the ship docks in the morning,” he said, tucking the paper in his own suit coat pocket. “I’d still have been able to make the game.”

“Somehow I doubt that very much,” Mac said walking over to the door. “Just remember - hydrate. And you’re old, so for god’s sake, stretch. Physician's orders.”

And with that she was gone, leaving an exasperated and delighted Jack behind in her wake.

---------------------

On an otherwise unremarkable Thursday evening in November 1930, Phryne Fisher swept into the parlour at Wardlow dressed to the nines.

“Hello, darlings!” she called out as she entered. Jack tried to school his smile at the term of endearment, even if this time if was more of a group greeting. So many months later, it still gave him a thrill every time. She looked at the card table and sighed in mock consternation. “I see Mahjong Night is once again at my house.”

“It’s not our fault half the players live here,” Mac said, not looking up from her job placing the tiles on the table.

“Are you going out for the night, then, Miss?” Mr. Butler asked, as he poured drinks for Jack and Mac from the sideboard. They’d long ago stopped asking him not to.

“Yes, Mr. B. You have a lovely evening. I’m off to go dancing at The Green Mill with some friends,” she said to him, then turned her attention back to the table. “So where is Katie tonight, Mac? Not providing commentary from the gallery this evening?”

“She’s at the bookstore doing inventory. Said she wanted a little break from watching us all get trounced by The Shark every week.”

“Yes, in retrospect the lessons were really rather foolish of us, weren’t they?” Jack said, shaking his head and sighing. Mac nodded in agreement, though they both smiled secretly under their frowns.

“Are you sure Katie wouldn’t rather go out with me?” Phryne asked. “I’d show her a much better time than inventory.” Phryne wrinkled her nose at just the idea, and Jack and Mac shared a brief conspiratorial look that spoke of their shared agreement never to tell her how adorable she was when she did that.

“No thank you,” Mac said. “The last time she went out with you, she came home so blotto she tried to enter the wrong flat. And when her key wouldn’t work she just started knocking. Loudly.” Mac snorted at the memory. “We had to tell Mrs Yates she’d been sleep walking.”

“Fine, fine,” Phryne said, letting it go reluctantly. “Jack, a word?”

Jack nodded and walked over to where she stood near the parlour doors.

He didn’t stop moving until they were mere inches apart.

“You’ll be here when I get back?” she asked quietly.

“I had no plans to go home tonight, Miss Fisher. Though I’ll almost certainly be fast asleep when you return.”

“Liar. I’ll probably find you and Mac drunk again, belting out I Love A Lassie at the piano.”

“That happened once,” he said, with look of pure indignation. She laughed at his umbrage and kissed the tip of his nose.

“Well if you are asleep when I get back, do I have permission to wake you?” she asked.

“You’d better,” he said, tucking her hair behind her ear and promising all sorts of things with his eyes.

“Have fun then, darling.”

Jack didn’t school his smile that time and she returned his expression in kind. Then she gave him a quick kiss, waved to the rest of the room, and sashayed out the door.

“Well if you’re quite done being besotted, Jack,” Mac tossed over her shoulder, “perhaps you’d like to join us.”

Jack rolled his eyes and made his way back to the table. “I fail to see the rush. The Shark’s not even here yet,” he complained.

“Not true, Inspector,” came a voice from behind him. “I just needed to finish my homework.”

“Glad you could join us, Miss Ross,” Jack said, pulling out her chair for her.

“Me too,” Jane said smiling, accepting a lemonade from Mr Butler and setting up her tiles.

“So,” Mac said, once everyone was seated. “Shall we begin?”