"Oh, for-" Jack fought back the urge to curse when he found he couldn't reach the stack of papers on his desk without lifting his leg from its comfortable resting place, stretched out on a small side table.

The knee was still giving him trouble, though the scrapes had healed nicely. But he really needed to get back to training if he didn't want to blow his cover. The race was only six weeks from now, and if he didn't put in some effort, there was no way he would make it across the finish line before cut-off time. A distance of 165 miles was nothing to sneeze at, after all.

Before he'd managed to extricate himself from his position, the door flew open and Phryne swanned in, smiling brightly. When she noticed his predicament, she handed him the papers with a dramatic flourish.

"Were you looking for these, Jack, dear?" She was positively purring. "You know, I was wondering if I could have a look at your notes on the Cycling Club case?"

He hesitated only for a moment. Sure, this was highly irregular, but experience had taught him that Phryne was bound to spot details that even his experienced eye had overlooked. And even if she didn't, it would be helpful to discuss the case with her.

With a sigh, he dug the thick manila folder out from the pile to his left. "Here you go. There's a summary on the first page."

Phryne hummed happily to herself while she quickly scanned the file. "Let me see… First victim, a Mr Sidney O'Connell, also known as 'Speedy Sid'. Died from a heart attack in the club's smoking room." She frowned. "Even I have heard of Speedy Sid. Wasn't he a cycling legend?"

"You could say that." Jack nodded. "He held several long distance records in his time. And he was known for never giving up. There was this one time when he won a race despite suffering three punctures and a broken ankle. The younger members worshipped him like a hero."

"Uh-huh." Phryne was clearly unimpressed. "Second victim. Sheila Wendells, the club's charwoman. Run over by a tram at the end of her shift. Ugh. What a nasty way to go."

"She used to take the train at Batman Station, just around the corner from the club's premises." Jack sighed. "It was a foggy night, and no one saw it happen."

"What a pity." Phryne glanced down at the file again. "Third victim. Robbie MacPherson, mechanic. Died after an accidental fall when he slipped in a puddle of oil on the stairs. He broke his neck, I take it?"

"His neck and several other appendages," Jack confirmed. "Poor kid. He had only just turned twenty."

Phryne shook her head. "A puddle of oil on the stairs that he just failed to notice? Honestly? That doesn't sound particularly plausible to me."

Jack shrugged. "The coroner could find no evidence of foul play at the time. Maybe he really just slipped and fell."

"Hmm. There's an awful lot of falling going on, don't you think?" Phryne didn't look convinced. "Any connection between the three? A possible motive?"

"Apart from the fact that they were all connected to the club, nothing so far. We've done a thorough background search on all three of them as well as on the club regulars, but so far we've come up empty. No dark secrets, no prior convictions, no possible motives." Jack glared at his knee. "I hope I'll be well enough to go back in a few days. Maybe I'll be able to find out more then."

"I'm sure you will," Phryne agreed blithely. "And in the meantime, I'll be having tea at Aunt Prudence's house this afternoon. She kindly agreed to invite Edith and her brother Randall, so hopefully I'll have a chance to get the inside scoop on the club members."

"Would that be Randall Bassington?" Jack frowned. "I think I've met him once or twice at the club."

"Bassington-Smythe," Phryne corrected him. "Yes. Aunt P has known the family for ages. Edith is a bit of a bore, but I can put up with her for the sake of our case." She sighed deeply, every inch the long-suffering martyr.

"Your sacrifice is very much appreciated." Our case. Jack felt his lips twitch. "Will I see you tonight?"

"If you want. Mr Butler mentioned something about steak pie for dinner. How does that sound?" Phryne's smile was bordering on smug. She clearly didn't expect him to say no, and for a moment Jack was tempted to decline, just because.

Just for a moment, though. "How could I possibly resist." He smiled back. "I'll try to be there at eight."

"I shall be looking forward to it." And there it was, a flash of unexpected sincerity in her smile that made his throat contract almost painfully. She meant it. And that made all the difference.

"Me, too." His heart beat faster. "Very much so."

Phryne was happy to run into Hugh in the anteroom on her way out. "Hugh, my dearest! How is Dottie doing?"

"She is fine, Miss Fisher. The morning sickness is getting better. Oh, and I've been meaning to ask you a favour – if it's not too much of an imposition, that is?" Hugh looked adorably flustered, as usual.

"Nonsense, Hugh. What's the matter?" Phryne carefully adjusted her hat and checked her lipstick with the help of a small pocket mirror.

"Well, I have a late shift on Wednesday, and Dottie gets lonely in the evenings, and she mentioned that she was worried that the new maid is not doing a good job of mending your stockings, so I wondered if-"

"Of course she can come over! I'll gladly keep her company." Phryne couldn't have been happier about his question. "But I won't hear of her doing any mending."

"I don't know, miss. She might actually be happier if she has something to do." Hugh smiled. "You know my Dottie."

"I do indeed." Phryne considered for a moment. "All right. But I will pay her for it. Yes, I will." She brushed aside his protests. "Dot is nothing short of a miracle worker where torn stockings are concerned, and a talent like hers deserves its just reward. You can set the money aside for the baby, if you wish."

"Yes, Miss Fisher." Hugh had clearly decided that this was a fight he couldn't win. Which was true enough.

"Lovely." Phryne rewarded him with her most ravishing smile. "I'll send Cec and Bert over to pick her up at seven. And, Hugh…"

He nervously adjusted his collar. "Yes, miss?"

"Just a word of warning." She lowered her voice, pointing her thumb toward the closed door to Jack's office. "He won't admit it, but I think he's in pain, and it makes him cranky. You'd better be on your toes, constable. Obviously, I'll do my best to cheer him up tonight, but...

Hugh blushed furiously. "Right. Yes. Thanks for the heads-up, Miss Fisher."

"My pleasure." Another smile, and she was on her way out. Darling Hugh. He was in for a trying day.

"Phryne. There you are, finally. Edith has been waiting for your arrival most impatiently." Aunt Prudence helped Phryne out of her fur stole, accepting her greeting with a disdainful sniffle.

"Good afternoon, Aunt P." Phryne smiled brightly. "Is Randy here, too?" she mouthed at her aunt.

Aunt Prudence nodded, her voice dropping to a whisper. "As you requested. I had to lure him here with the promise of my special tuna sandwiches. He used to be so fond of them as a boy."

And no doubt he's well-bred enough to know that he had to make an appearance when you insinuated that you'd made them expressly for him. Well played. Phryne followed her aunt to the parlour, where a generous tea table was set for the four of them.

Edith embraced Phryne with a happy sigh. "Phryne, darling. I've missed our little chats so much. It's a shame you're always so busy."

"Ah, my dear, you know how it is." Phryne hugged her back. Edith was one of her oldest friends in Melbourne, and it wasn't her fault that she was a bit bland. Rather unfortunately plain-looking, too, and she really needed some advice on how to dress.

Randall got to his feet as well, greeting her with an immaculate bow. "Phryne Fisher. How is it possible that you have become even more beautiful since we last met?"

"I sincerely doubt that." Phryne graciously allowed him to kiss her hand. "If I remember correctly, you were still at school then. And you have certainly grown up in the meantime." She let her gaze wander appreciatively over his whole body.

Grown up was an understatement. The Randall she remembered had been a lanky, narrow-chested boy with acne and a slight stutter. The man before her now was tall and muscular, charming and self-assured. He was very well-dressed, too, and he smelled of an expensive cologne. French, if I'm not very much mistaken. Phryne appreciated a man taking good care of his appearance.

Randall cleared his throat, a hint of the old bashfulness surfacing behind the confident veneer. "Yeah, well, it's been a long time. And I do like to keep in shape."

"Are you a sportsman then?" It was a perfect opening, Phryne realized. A lovely, innocuous way to lead up to her intended topic of conversation.

"I'm a member of the Coburg Cycling Club." He sounded proud. "Last year I came in third in one of their endurance races."

Which would explain those amazing thighs. Phryne raised a flirty eyebrow at him. "Congratulations. That sounds like quite an achievement. I take it that the other club members are no slouches either?"

"No, they aren't." He grinned, clearly flattered. "We have a number of cycling celebrities among our ranks. Henry – he's our club president – he is very invested in providing optimal training facilities to attract the top racers."

"Henry who?" Phryne did her best to sound casual. "Do I know him? He sounds fascinating."

"Henry Edgcombe." Randall took another sip of tea. "No, I don't expect you've met him. He must be at least fifty. Very staid, very respectable. He's not actively racing any more, you know. But you might have run across his wife, Mathilda."

"She's a real beauty, Phryne," Edith piped up. "Always featured on the society pages, very elegant and refined."

"I remember when they got married." Aunt Prudence tutted disapprovingly. "She used to be Mathilda Harris, one of the East Malvern Harrises, you know, Phryne? A lovely girl indeed, but she did seem a bit flighty to me. I wonder what she saw in Henry Edgcombe."

Phryne had to hide a smile. It didn't take much to be labelled as 'flighty' by Aunt P. "So, they haven't been married for long?"

"Two or three years, I believe." Edith reached for another scone. "They are an unlikely couple, I agree, but she seems very loving toward her husband."

Randall cleared his throat. "It can't be easy for her. Henry can be a bit-" He broke off. "Well, there's no point in speculating, is there? Would you like to come and see a race some time, Phryne?"

"I just might consider it, now that I know you'll be taking part." She threw him one of her patented smoky-eyed looks. "It sounds hugely exciting."

Jack leaned back in his chair, gratefully patting his stomach. As usual, the meal had been delicious: the pastry light and flaky, baked a perfect golden brown, and the gravy dark and rich and scrumptious, with just the barest hint of ale added, to complement the taste of the tender beef and the mushrooms. Jack appreciated a warm, solid meal as much as the next man, and he'd probably had a little more of the steak pie than he should have. Fortunately, Phryne could be relied on to provide a strong drink after the meal.

Phryne was smiling indulgently at him over the rim of her whisky glass. "Well? Are you ready to move on to business?"

"It seems a waste of a wonderful evening." He sighed. "But yes, of course. Did you find out anything interesting at your tea party?"

Phryne shrugged. "Hard to say. I did hear a lot of gossip, mainly about the club president and his pretty young wife."

"Henry Edgcombe." Jack frowned. "I don't know, Phryne. I've talked to him several times, and the club is his home, his family, his life. Suspicious incidents there are hardly in his best interest. I really can't imagine him involved in any kind of foul play."

"The club is his life." Phryne raised an irritated eyebrow. "That seems a strange thing to say about a man who has a beautiful young wife. One would think-"

"Maybe the marriage hasn't worked out as planned." Jack felt a touch of irritation. He really couldn't see how Edgcombe's family life was playing into this. Still, it wouldn't do to discard the possibility completely. "It happens."

"It certainly does." Phryne's tone was light, and he was relieved, when she didn't pursue the subject further.

"Anything else you've learned from your friend Randall?" He loosened his tie. "Any other leads?"

"Not really." Phryne sighed, but a slight smile was playing around her lips. "Randy was very charming, though. I might see him again, if things go according to plan. Who knows, maybe I can find out more, if I can keep him interested."

Jack was totally unprepared for the hot flash of jealousy that went through him at her words. He'd been so sure they'd moved past this. Phryne was an incurable flirt, as he well knew, but for the past few months, she hadn't really shown any interest in anyone but him. And while she'd never made him any promises, he'd assumed- And there's no reason to assume differently now, he firmly told himself. Just because she's noticed Bassington's charms and is taking advantage of his interest in her, doesn't mean she's going to add him to her list of lovers.

"It's getting late." Phryne reached out to take his hand. "Will you stay the night?"

Should he? Jack hesitated. He wanted to, of course he did. Holding Phryne in his arms was what he'd dreamed of all day. And yet, wouldn't it be better to leave? If she really had another man on her mind… Jack just barely suppressed a sigh. For a moment, just for a moment, he wished things were a little more clear-cut between the two of them. Just a little simpler and easier. But then again, nothing worthwhile was ever easy, right?

"If you'd like me to." He returned the pressure of her long fingers, relieved when she nodded and smiled. "Shall we go to bed, then?"