Chapter One
The Honourable Phryne Fisher was, the Polite World (apart from one or two of the stuffier elements with whom we won't concern ourselves) agreed, Absolutely Fascinating; and few people agreed with that judgement so heartily as Senior Detective Inspector Jack Robinson. Just lately, though, his fascination had been focused on one particular aspect of Miss Fisher (or, to give her her alternative title, Mrs Robinson), to a degree that might justifiably be described as Obsessive.
It was not her bewitching eyes, or her glorious cap of smooth black hair; it was not her quick wit or equally quick draw with a pearl-handled revolver.
It was her abdomen.
Most mornings, before leaving for work, he would examine it so closely that she generally succumbed to a fit of the giggles – unless she slept through the whole process, which was not at all unknown. The examination was generally of an amorous rather than a clinical nature, and occasionally resulted in a gentle-but-firm talking-to for the individual contained therein.
She generally bore the experience patiently, because after all, the palpable joy (on the part of one to whom solemnity was Standard Operating Procedure) that she had not only agreed to essay the minor miracle of childbirth but had also magically engineered – with a degree of assistance from him – the necessary stage in the whole palaver (her word) of becoming pregnant, was making life an awful lot of fun and very nearly made up for her loss of interest in the taste of gin.
Once he had left, though, it was her habit to get up and go swimming. 221B The Esplanade being handily placed for the beach, the chance to swim in the sea was one that the whole household would avail themselves of regularly; Jane, her adopted daughter liked the afternoons when the sun had been on the shallows for a little while, and Jack would simply take any opportunity when free time presented itself. Mr Butler may have been a swimmer, but there were no witnesses; and if Phryne's new maid, Lin Soo, decided to go swimming, she would decide personally who would be permitted to watch.
Miss Fisher liked the mornings.
If she was awake early enough, she would find she had the beach to herself, and so there was no-one around to be shocked by the revealing lines of her preferred bathing-suit.
People being shocked about things was so tedious, requiring as it did the energy of actively ignoring them.
One otherwise blameless Wednesday, the barely-there New Life having been sternly adjured to behave itself and the Inspector having left, whistling, to attend City South Police Station, she got up, donned her costume, a loose-fitting cotton shift and sandals and strode out to the beach. It was only with a slight inward sigh that she noticed another figure on the sands, also wandering sea-wards. It was, at least, dressed in a loose-fitting frock like her own, and women were usually less bothersome company.
As she started down on to the beach itself, though, she glanced up again at the woman, and realised that there was something odd about the way she was walking. It was not the idle stroll of the lady of leisure in a pleasant environment; and it was not the purposeful stride of the athlete intent on exercise. It was, instead, a slow but determined walk straight towards the water. Some instinct had Phryne quicken her pace, and as she did so, the woman came to the water's edge. Without pausing, she carried on walking, fully clothed, into the sea.