Chapter 30: Moonstone

The afternoon slipped by in a haze of champagne and happiness, with chatter and music thrown in and topped off with rather lovely canapés. People laughed dutifully as Dot fed Hugh the cake with so much force, that he looked like a kid at Christmas time and watched their wedding walz in awe, even though he stepped on his bride's foot, which cut it a little short and challenged Dot's ability to not swear in front of nun's and priests somewhat.

Phryne Fisher felt a certain restlessness that she couldn't explain and slipped out into the garden for a breath and a smoke. As she wandered along the rock lined path, searching for inner peace in the fresh air and a cigarette in her handbag, she found a white-haired man sitting on a bench, his back turned to her. Phryne briefly considered thanking Father Grogan for the ceremony, but he didn't look like he really wanted company, especially her's. Just when she turned to leave quietly, her fingers closed around something that she had almost forgotten about and she stopped. After a moments thought, she silently stepped beside the priest and sat down.

"Before you bite my head off, Father, I have no intention of disturbing you. Your dislike of my person is quite clear, but I would like to return something to you that I don't think the police will need any longer."

She held out the relict to him that the priest took after a moment's hesitation.

"It was hidden behind a picture in Miss Wentworth's room. A beautiful photograph of a garden party." Phryne said, rising to her feet. When she walked away, the gravel crunching under her shoes, she felt like she heard the faint sound of someone trying not to cry. She kept walking. Those tears had been coming on a long time too, but they were not hers to share.

When she returned to the terrace, there was a familiar frame leaning against the balustrade, a cigarette in hand and a smirk on his face. Phryne hopped onto the railing beside him and plucked the glowing stick from his fingers, fondly remembering the first one they had ever shared. It seemed like a long time ago now.

"Are you enjoying yourself then, Jack?" She asked teasingly.

"Not as much as those two, it seems." His chin nodded towards a pergola, where Riya, dressed in a shimmering green something, that should have made her look like a distraught frog, but didn't, was currently laughing at something obviously very funny, Tobias Butler had whispered to her. The golden jewellery draped all over her jingled as her shoulder's shook in amusement and the Butler looked incredibly proud of himself.

"She does remind me a little of a Christmas tree." Phryne laughed, with a hint of envy in her voice.

"I think your Butler currently wishes it was Christmas." The Inspector smirked, taking his cigarette back from her unresisting hands.

"Good on him."

A soft breeze shook the trees and rained the lovely couple in the distance with a shower of flower petals. A hand of very fine artistic fingers lifted to a well shaven cheek and Miss Fisher averted her eyes following the sudden feeling that she was intruding into something that was as much private as it was beautiful.

On a wooden park bench somewhat further away, Father Grogan was holding onto a single sheet of paper as though it tied him to the universe, being as still as he could, while fighting for control over his emotions. The wind took an unsuspecting moment to curiously flick up the edge, revealing to the world the last verse of a poem:

"So we must keep apart,

You there, I here,

With just the door ajar

That oceans are,

And prayer,

And that pale sustenance,

Despair!"

On this beautiful December afternoon, sitting alone in the garden with the soft breeze wafting over the smell of lavender and faint music, Father Dominic Grogan, for the first time in many years, lost his battle.

X

It must have been some time during dinner, when the conversation finally turned to the elephant in the room: The string of death that had lately haunted the parish.

"So, Miss Fisher, how did you and the Inspector find out that it was Father Rafael?" Hugh Collins, who had drunk a little bit too much champagne at this stage, asked. "He seemed nice, when I met him."

"Actually, Hugh," Phryne said, sipping on her glass of wine, "That's what raised my suspicion in the first place. He was just too nice for a Catholic priest. No offence, Father Grogan."

"None taken." The priest threw back calmly, to the amusement of the whole table. It was accompanied by something that could have almost been a smile.

"The vase to his head threw me a little bit of his trail." Phryne admitted. "But I rather suspect, that that was Richard Rivett."

"That is a fact, Miss Fisher." A deep voice cut in. The Inspector smiled, slightly embarrassed as the attentions turned to him. "I was on the phone to the station earlier. My secret weapon worked."

When eyes kept being glued to him, he set his glass down to explain.

"Inspector Morgan. A man so boring, that the wall-paper rolls up in his presence. After two hours with him, Rivett was begging to confess everything. Funnily he seems to remember that he already found an intruder in Miss Wentworth's room, when he tried to rob it. So I guess Father Rafael was looking for the paper she had confronted him with, rather than a strange sound that night."

Phryne snuck a look at the priest sitting not far from her, wondering how he felt about his friend's betrayal. But to her surprise, Father Grogan looked rather like he was enjoying himself, chatting animatedly with Sister Magdalene who also seemed to have taken things quite well. So they would be all right. That was something.

Dancing was picking up again, as well as drinking and Miss Fisher soon found herself in Jack's arms, waltzing over the dance-floor. Despite their little courting dance that they had drawn out over almost two years, Phryne realised that they had never yet actually swayed. He usually was reluctant to join into open displays of their relationship, but not today. Still it felt natural, like they had never done anything else and she noticed a hint of regret in her heart, when the music trailed off. Jack bowed lightly with a twinkle in his eye and made room for Bert, who was eager to swing his employer over the dance-floor. Leaning against the wall, Jack Robinson watched her every move, when a hand touched his arm.

"Would you care to dance with me, Inspector?" Amber Walters asked, tilting her head. He understood and little later they were turning with the other couples.

"So how did it work out?" The girl asked after a few twirls. The Inspector tore his eyes from Phryne for long enough to smile a content smile.

"She is quite fond of the necklace, it seems."

"That was not really what I was asking, Inspector."

The big brown eyes sparkled up at him in amusement. She really was quite pretty, Jack realised with some confusion, wondering if that was something he should be worrying about.

"It worked. I don't think she suspects anything." He said vaguely, returning his gaze to where Phryne had moved on to Mr. Butler's arms, the couple blowing people away with their adventurous moves, as Dot watched on with some envy. He completely missed the other redhead that swayed by them just this very moment in Cec's firm grasp and the confused wrinkles appearing between her eyes.

And so Jack didn't see it coming, as little later, while trying to retrieve a drink for himself, a very urgent Doctor MacMillan appeared in front of him like a Medusa and dragged him into a quiet corner without a word of explanation.

"What is all this about?" He asked, watching the furious expression on her face unfold with some confusion. Her voice shook in anger, when she answered.

"I just wanted to remind you, Inspector, that I am in fact a doctor. I do know a lot about scalpels and needles and even bedpans. And I will make use of every single one of my abilities, if you should ever chose to betray Phryne. Are we clear?"

Jack's mouth fell open, his eyes widening in shock. His throat was so tight, that he struggled to even press the one sentence out.

"Whatever makes you think that I would?"

"I overheard what you whispered with Amber. And she might be young and impressionble, even though I did think she was cleverer than this..."

He grabbed Elisabeth by the shoulders rather roughly, shaking his head urgently, which had the desired effect of bringing her to a stop.

"You have got it completely, absolutely, utterly wrong, Doctor."

He pulled something out of his pocket, flicking it open. This time it was Mac's turn to be shocked.

X

A bright moon hung in the black sky, when Jack Robinson stepped out into the garden. He sucked the warm night air into his lungs and wondered if the celebrations would be over soon. He had loved the wedding and being the best man had filled him with more pride than he cared to admit. But nevertheless, he longed to go home. It had been a long week. His hand played with a little box in his trouser-pocket. It was tempting, but he resisted. There was too much danger attached to opening it here, as much as he wanted to have another look at the sparkling black stone.

"Penny for your thoughts." He heard a humorous voice behind himself, before a warm arm slipped around his chest.

"I fear, Miss Fisher, they were way more precious than that."

In fact, said thoughts had cost him two days to hunt down across Melbourne and most of his savings to purchase, including the necklace as a beautiful and heartfelt distraction. Somehow he knew that it would take a lot more time for him to also save up enough courage to offer a proposition that would most likely be denied. Currently her body was making a very different one, as she snuggled against his back, leaning her hot cheek to his shoulder.

"You know, Jack, getting you to share your secrets can be like drawing blood from a stone." She murmured, her softness revealing no real annoyance.

"I shall try harder to be more predictable for you, Miss Fisher." He promised, smiling up at the silvery globe that was hanging in the branches of a tree. Without tearing his eyes from the night sky, he wrapped his fingers around her wrist, where he could feel her warm pulse beat against his skin in a calm, steady rhythm. He would share everything with her - but maybe not tonight.

X

Author's note:

Before anyone asks - and I know someone will: Yes, this is actually the end of this fic. It is long enough. In fact, if you have read up to this point you are braver than I've given you credit for – and you have my gratitude. There might be a fourth installment of this series, mostly because I seem to be unable to stop for any amount of time. But then again, you never know where writing takes you, so I'll stay away from promises. I will however take the opportunity to say "Thanks" again to my beta Changedstripes, (who took it upon herself to fill the big shoes Duskbutterfly has left behind on flapping away to attend to her life). She was a rock througout writing this – pun fully intended.

It occurred to me at some point, that I might be stepping on toes, as you usually tend to do with religious subjects, so I probably should apologise. Possibly to the priests out there, who I'm quite sure are mostly rather friendly and not murderous at all, the parishers of St. Ignatius, who really just ended up in my fiction because their church is so beautiful that I couldn't resist making it my backdrop - even though to my knowledge, there is neither rubies nor corpses to be found in it - and likely also to the many Catholics (myself included) and faithful (myself excluded) of this world. But then again – I won't.

Because in the end there are, as Oscar Wilde put it, no immoral stories. Only well written or badly written ones. And chosing which category this one belongs to, is up to you.