Chapter Text
Dr. Elizabeth MacMillan was enjoying working alongside Senior Detective Inspector Jack Robinson, in the absence of the Honourable Miss Phryne Fisher. Mac loved her old friend, of course; but when she was around, the Inspector had largely been a shadow to the bright light that was Phryne. With Phryne gone, Mac was able to learn more about how the DI’s mind worked. She had realized early in the game that he was very intelligent (she refused to add “for a police officer”). He didn’t engage in as many hunches or flights of intuition as Phryne did: Mac soon discovered that he had schooled his mind to follow each piece of evidence in a logical, methodical fashion. It fit very well with the way she approached her medical work, whether at the Women’s Hospital or now at the morgue.
She had seen flashes before of his wry sense of humour, but again it was usually only as a reaction to Phryne that she had seen it in the past. Now that it was just the two of them, she and the Inspector found that they had a similar approach to difficult situations, and both sometimes engaged in “gallows humour” to get through the worst times in their respective jobs.
Mac’s respect for the Inspector grew as she learned to know him better. It seemed he might be there for the long haul in a way no man had ever been for Phryne, and for that, Mac appreciated him; especially since it seemed as if, for the first time in a very long time, that was something Phryne wanted.
Many weeks had passed since Phryne Fisher had flown out of their lives. Mac was seeing the signs of strain in Inspector Robinson: he was quieter, more formal than ever, less accessible. It was uncomfortable to watch him wall himself off.
He finished with the body he had come to examine. “Not quite as obvious as a guillotined head, but still fairly cut-and-dried,” he observed dryly as he pulled the sheet respectfully over the face of the deceased. As if talking to himself, he mused, “I’ll have Collins finish up with this one. He can use a new challenge.”
Mac smiled approvingly. Her regard for the Inspector led her to take a risk. “Are you done for the day, then?” she asked as a preamble.
He gave her half of a smile. “I’m done here. I don’t need to hold you up any longer. I’m sure you’d like to be on your way home.”
“And what about you?”
“Me?” The Inspector seemed surprised at her question, but answered gamely, “Oh, there’s always paperwork to be done…” He laughed at himself. “Although I procrastinate as much as possible.”
“Inspector,” Mac said baldly, “I think you should have dinner with me.”
“I—dinner?”
“You’ve heard of it. A meal, eaten in the evening.”
He scowled at her, and it gave her license to grin even more broadly. “Well?”
“Dinner? I do seem to have heard of it.”
“That may be,” Mac continued, “but do you actually partake of it? A mutual friend may have mentioned to me that you don’t always remember to eat.”
Jack thought uncomfortably of having had to tighten his belt another notch that very morning. He couldn’t help being busy, could he? Just then the penny dropped. To Mac’s great amusement, it seemed to be occurring to the Inspector for the first time that Phryne and Mac might speak of him when he wasn’t present. “Phryne said that? What else do the two of you—”
“Oh, you don’t really want to know,” Mac interrupted with a smirk.
He blinked. “No, perhaps I don’t,” he said, trying to imagine what else Phryne could possibly have to say about him to Mac.
“But you do want to eat,” Mac reminded him, grabbing the trilby she had worn that day, “and so do I; and if we hurry, we can get there in time to enjoy some good whiskey with our meal.”
“And beat the six o’clock swill?” he laughed. He made his decision. “All right, you’re on. Where are we headed?”
“I know a lovely pub not far from here.”
“Can I give you a ride, then?”
“Certainly.” She made a face. “They’ll be so delighted to see me show up with a man!” The Inspector only shook his head and said nothing.