Chapter One
Senior Detective Inspector Jack Robinson swung the Honourable Miss Phryne Fisher through a neat half-turn as they reached the end of the ballroom and thanked his stars once again for … well, more or less everything, really.
First and foremost, he hadn't yet fallen over.
Second, he had in his arms the person who was unarguably the most beautiful, charming and exciting woman in the room.
Third, she was his lover. Had now been for some months, and they appeared to be succeeding in keeping their relationship secret from most of the population of the planet (apart from one English racehorse trainer, the second housemaid of an English country house, one senior member of Scotland Yard, a captain of the Peninsular and Oriental Steam Navigation Company and the population and adherents of 221B The Esplanade, Melbourne). In 1920s Melbourne society, that mattered.
The music drew to a close at that lucky point immediately before his smile went from the dignified to the fatuous, and he walked Phryne off the dance floor back to their table.
She looked around the room, and back at Jack questioningly.
"Did you see what happened to Gervase? He promised me a foxtrot, and that's the next thing on the card."
He shrugged. "No, but why don't we go and look for him? I could do with a drink, and he can't have gone far. His rooms are just across the quad, though I can't believe he'd have retired already."
She readily agreed, collecting her bag, and they wandered out of the University ball into the sultry evening air. Passing along the terrace outside the bar, they couldn't see their host, but Jack took the opportunity to secure a cold beer, though Phryne eschewed the Sauvignon.
Gaining the bottom of the stairs, Phryne turned to him.
"You hang on here and finish your drink. I'll go and look for him – it won't take long."
He was more than happy to prop himself against one of the cool stone pillars, and she was back within minutes.
"The poor love's sound asleep! I knew he'd been working overtime on his book, so I suppose it's hardly surprising. Still … how's your foxtrot, Jack?"
"A lot more slow, slow than quick, quick, to be honest – could we take a break?"
She graciously agreed to a break. By the time they had done almost a complete circuit of the quadrangle, she'd suggested a fireside whisky. He agreed that the fireside might be a better place to carry out the suggestion she'd made immediately before that; Cec was only mildly surprised to be taking them home so early.