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    Ruddy Gore
    Ruddy Gore
    Ruddy Gore
    Ebook259 pages4 hours

    Ruddy Gore

    By Kerry Greenwood

    3.5/5

    ()

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    About this ebook

    From the author of the bestselling Phryne Fisher Series comes Ruddy Gore, the next historical mystery featuring the unstoppable, elegant amateur sleuth. Can Miss Fisher use her theater ties to take care of a phantasm haunting a Gilbert and Sullivan show?

    "The appeal of this story is the glimpse it provides into the 1920s theater world and the opportunity it affords to observe Phryne and Lin Chung's romance from its inception."—Booklist

    • Perfect for Fans of Rhys Bowen and Jacqueline Winspear
    • Inspired the Netflix show Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
    • Movie Miss Fisher and the Crypt of Tears Currently Streaming on Acorn TV
    • One of the top-selling, best murder mystery books of 2018

    Running late to the Hinkler gala performance of Gilbert and Sullivan's Ruddigore, Phryne Fisher meets some thugs in a dark alley and handles them convincingly before they can ruin her silver dress. Phryne then finds that she has rescued the handsome Lin Chung and his grandmother and is briefly mistaken for a deity.

    Denying divinity but accepting cognac, she later continues safely to the theatre. But it seems the lead is dressed for death, as the performance is interrupted by a most bizarre death onstage. What links can Phryne possibly find between the ridiculously entertaining plot of Ruddigore, the Chinese community of Little Bourke Street, and the actors treading the boards of His Majesty's Theatre?

    Drawn backstage and onstage, Phryne must solve an old murder, find a new murderer and of course, banish the theatre's ghost—who seems likely to kill again.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherOpen Road Integrated Media
    Release dateApr 4, 2017
    ISBN9781464207655
    Ruddy Gore
    Author

    Kerry Greenwood

    Kerry Greenwood was born in the Melbourne suburb of Footscray and after wandering far and wide, she returned to live there. She has degrees in English and Law from Melbourne University and was admitted to the legal profession on the 1st April 1982, a day which she finds both soothing and significant. Kerry has written three series, a number of plays, including The Troubadours with Stephen D’Arcy, is an award-winning children’s writer and has edited and contributed to several anthologies. The Phryne Fisher series (pronounced Fry-knee, to rhyme with briny) began in 1989 with Cocaine Blues which was a great success. Kerry has written twenty books in this series with no sign yet of Miss Fisher hanging up her pearl-handled pistol. Kerry says that as long as people want to read them, she can keep writing them. In 2003 Kerry won the Lifetime Achievement Award from the Australian Association.

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    Reviews for Ruddy Gore

    3.5/5

    214 ratings13 reviews

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    • 3/5
      Phryne Fisher is a likeable, charming and vibrant individual. She's kind and generous to those she meets, smart and logical when faced with problems or obstacles and adventurous in her dislike of boredom. She is brave and tenacious and brutal when faced with injustice. A few deaths of distant relatives were all that stood between her life of poverty and her ascent into luxury at the age of 12 and she never takes her wealth and social standing for granted. The result of which is a kind and generous soul who is always willing to speak up for the victims, the downtrodden or the underdogs and one who relishes fine food, fine clothes and the myriad of pursuits open to her. Her open mindedness leads to an unique and vibrant cast pulled from all walks of life. Being an Aussie and a proud Melbournian - the Melbourne setting was a highlight. Recognising the street names and places was fun. And Melbournians will understand the delight in recognising how strange our weather is to outsiders. As far as the genre goes, I don't know if I'd really say it was crime or historical. I mean it is a historical period but it felt kind of modern. The crime was good but it was interspersed with character relationships. There was romance but none of it was meaningful or relevant. It was too lowbrow to be literary and too much reality to be chick lit. It's an odd mix that was an enjoyable read but likely not for everyone. It's also fairly different from the tv show (and she's a lot younger in the books) but the main elements are present - like Phryne's love of clothes, her humour, confidence and loveable charming personality. Character wise, I love them all! Phryne, Dot, Dr Elizabeth MacMillan, WPC Jones, Inspector Robinson, Bert and Cec, Mr and Mrs. Butler, they were all fantastic and had me giggling throughout. And I adore the way women are portrayed in this series. I love that all the female characters are strong willed and fierce and able to look after themselves - even when it doesn't always seem like it. I also really like how the cops aren't written as useless or inept - but rather unable to significantly help without someone willing to speak up and testify. This was interesting. I liked the theatre setting and having been to Her Majesty's it was easy to imagine. The characters were dramatic and the plot twisted around. I didn't like the hint of supernatural elements in it - I prefer to keep my crime and fantasy separate and in my crime have the supernatural be firmly shot down if it appears. I was also disappointed, once again, not to see much of Dot, Bert, Cec or the Butlers. Hopefully the next book will rectify that. 3 stars.
    • 4/5
      "Ruddy Gore" by Kerry Greenwood is the seventh book in the Phryne Fisher mystery series. During what should have been a gala performance of Gilbert and Sullivan's Ruddigore, two cast members are poisoned. Phryne must delve deep into the theatre scene and Melbourne's China Town to find the solution to the mystery of the poisonous attacks and mysterious theatre ghosts. Good fun as always.
    • 2/5
      This is not my favorite book of the series so far. Phryne investigates two murders that occur during a performance of Gilbert and Sullivan’s Ruddigore. Much of the play was explained in the story and made the plot felt overly complicated.
    • 5/5
      A new character is introduced to the world of Phryne Fisher - Lin Chung. On her way to the theatre with her friend Bunji, they run into thugs in a dark alley. The two ladies (Bunji is an independent woman) disburse the thugs and help Lin Chung and his grandmother get to safety.Later, while at the theatre, one of the lead actor collapses at the end of the first act of a Gilbert and Sullivan musical. Phryne is called backstage by the theatre troupe owner, Bernard Tarrant (an old friend), to solve the mysterious death. Things are further complicated at the end of the second act when the understudy collapses!Along with solving the cause of the collapses, Phryne is also told of a ghost who is supposedly haunting the theatre. It is thought to be the original actress who had the lead in the play when it was first produced. Various cast members claim they have seen it.The cast of characters is large and the secrets that they each have seems to be many! At times I wasn't sure who was who and had to back track.While Phryne is dealing with the theatre crowd, she is also learning about the world of the Chinese through her new acquaintance Lin Chung. I enjoyed this book and found it hard to put down. I am looking forward to the next adventure of Phryne Fisher, detective!
    • 5/5
      One of my favorites in this series
    • 4/5
      Ruddy Gore by Kerry Greenwood is the seventh book in Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries. Phyrne Fisher is attending a gala performance of Gilbert and Sullivan’s Ruddigore at His Majesty’s Theater. Along the way, Phryne and her aviator friend, Bunji Ross encounter some trouble and must rescue an elderly Chinese woman and her grandson, Lin Chung (good thing Phryne is handy with an axe). Phryne is enjoying the performance until Walter Copland, playing Sir Ruthven, collapses on the stage. The theater’s manager and an old friend of Phryne’s, Sir Bernard Tarrant requests Phryne’s assistance, but the performance must go on first. Robert Craven takes over the part of Sir Ruthven and, near the end of the play, it is obvious that something is wrong with the man. It turns out that both men were poisoned. The production has been plagued with problems and some believe there is a ghost in the theater. Sir Bernard hires Phryne to investigate. When Walter Copland does not last the night, Detective Inspector Jack Robinson is out to find his killer. Jack is glad to have Phryne involved with this case (he dislikes theaters). But the person responsible is not done tormenting the production. Can Phryne and Jack find the culprit before there is another fatality? And Phryne has not seen the last of the fetching Lin Chung.Ruddy Gore is an entertaining novel. It is always delightful to revisit the vivacious Phryne Fisher. The story starts out a little slow while Phryne is enjoying Ruddigore, but the pace picks up after the performance. The book has an overabundance of characters. Readers are introduced to the cast of the play and the people who work behind the scenes at the theater. I do wish there had not been so many characters to weed through and that some of the core characters had been included in Ruddy Gore (Bert, Cec, Dot, Ruth, Jane, the Butlers). In addition, I missed Phryne’s over-the-top personality. She was more subdued in this novel. Lin Chung is a nice addition to the series, and I am sure we will see him again in the future. I give Ruddy Gore 3.5 out of 5 stars. I found the mysteries (there is a thirty-year-old one too) entertaining, but they can be solved (if you pay close attention). It was interesting to see the differences between the book and the show by the same name. Personally, I was more a fan of the show. It had more focus. If you are not a fan of Gilbert and Sullivan, I do not recommend Ruddy Gore. Information about the play and characters are discussed in length. While reading Ruddy Gore, you need to remember that the book is set in 1928. People’s views towards Chinese were very different than they are today. If you are a fan of Miss Fisher and her antics, you will enjoy this seventh installment in the series. Those who have not read the earlier books in the series may not enjoy Ruddy Gore.
    • 4/5
      On her way to the theatre for a night of Gilbert and Sullivan, Phryne Fisher manages to foil an attack on a Chinese woman and her son. But that is not the only mystery she will encounter at the theatre. The play, Ruddy Gore, has been plagued by the ghost of an actress who had died mysteriously after starring in the play several decades previously. But when two leading actors of this modern revival are poisoned causing the death of one, Phryne is asked to investigate. Problem is, it seems like almost everyone involved in the production has a motive and then one more death makes it clear that her interference isn’t welcomed.Ruddy Gore by author Kerry Greenwood is the seventh in her Phryne Fisher series of cosy mysteries and it is as just as convoluted as any Gilbert and Sullivan play, something that even Phryne points out herself:Dot, I have the strangest feeling that I’m caught up in a Gilbert and Sullivan plotBut like Gilbert and Sullivan, although the story demands a very hefty suspension of disbelief, that does not mean it isn’t great fun to read and most of what makes this series incredibly addicting is Phyrne herself. Private detective isn’t exactly a typical job for a woman in 1920s Melbourne Australia but then Phryne Fisher isn’t your typical 1920s woman. There’s no way normal early20th c. gender restraints are going to keep her down whether it’s regarding sex, marriage, or mystery. This is the perfect read for that time when you just want a nice enjoyable undemanding hour or two to destress from real life.Thanks to Edelweiss and Poisoned Pen Press for the opportunity to read this book in exchange for an honest review
    • 4/5
      Another fun episode in the Phryne Fisher series. A day in the life of Phryne means getting involved in a street brawl and a murder. I loved the theater backdrop in this one. It allowed for a lot of new and interesting characters to be introduced. The ending wasn't quite what I expected, but it worked well for me. As much as I enjoyed the storyline, I missed the involvement of my two favorites--Bert and Cec.
    • 4/5
      Phryne adds another bright young man to her harem, this one is Chinese, she meets him while rescuing him and his grandmother from thugs while on her way to see a version of Ruddigore by Gilbert and Sullivan, where she has to assure her friend Bunji Ross that it will be fun. And it is, to start with, until actors start falling ill and she's drawn into the investigation, finding many different threads of story and messy lives that keep her on her toes, while she also enjoys the company of Lin Chung.I love Phryne, particularly the TV series and I can see how Greenwood uses the tropes of the inter-war era to great result here. The mystery is in fact mysteries and they interlink in interesting ways.
    • 4/5
      One of the books on the 2016 Reading Challenge list was a 'book that’s guaranteed to bring you joy'. I'm always a bit skeptical about books that are labeled as such by reviewers, so I decided to see what serendipity would provide. In general, Kerry Greenwood's sleuth, Phryne Fisher, is amusing and the endings are positive so it was a good bet that I'd enjoy one of her mysteries.Synopsis: On their way to a Gilbert and Sullivan musical, Phryne and her friend, Bunji, see an elderly Chinese woman being attacked. They rush to help her and find themselves enmeshed in a squabble caused by the conflict between duty and love. During the musical, Phryne notices that one of the actors is playing a fainting scene a little too well. The manager of the troupe calls on her detecting talents to find out who is poisoning his cast and to determine if there really is a ghost haunting the playhouse.Review: Well written, and with a wicked sense of humor, this story transforms from straight detective fiction into a Gilbert and Sullivan style tale. The dialog is interesting, as are the characters. The treatment of minorities, particularly those successful in business, is one of the themes as is romantic relationships between ethnicity. The ending made me smile.
    • 5/5
      Miss Fisher, and Gilbert and Sullivan! What a great combination!Phryne's night at the operetta gets complicated- both by a mysterious attempted abduction in which she intervenes before the show, and by the mysterious collapses of 2 of the leading men in G&S's "Ruddigore". She looks into the first out of curiosity- especially since it seems she's being watched as a result- and the theater producer asks her to look into the second, even before one of the victims dies.Most of the series regulars have only brief moments in this one, but that's made up for by all the characters involved with the theater. As always, Greenwood does a superb job of bringing even very minor characters alive and making them distinct individuals. I am especially impressed with the way several of the actors were, in real life, at least as petty and venal as the characters they portrayed. (For all the pretty music and clever lyrics, Gilbert in particular had a very cynical view of human nature.) I especially liked some of the G&S trivia included... and I would love to see a production of "Ruddigore"!While most of the book depicts the theater mysteries and complications, there's also a fascinating look at a Chinese community and some of the struggles they had after moving to Australia.Very recommended for fans! And this one could probably be a place to start if you don't want to start from the beginning; it's not based as much on past events as several of the others.
    • 3/5
      This one is all based around a Gilbert & Sullivan opera company, which was fun. Reminds me of college.
    • 4/5
      This is the 7th book in Kerry Greenwood’s Phryne Fisher (pronounced FRY-nee Fisher) mystery series. It is the first one that I have read.The books are set in Australia during the 1920s. Phryne Fisher is a private investigator who gets involved in a case when the lead of the operetta she is attending collapses. Soon after, during the same show, the stand-in for the character Sir Ruthven also falls ill. When one of the Sir Ruthvens dies as a result and when a stage “accident” kills another company member, Phryne and the investigating police know that there is definitely a criminal that needs to be stopped.The mystery is set in the playhouse of the Melbourne Gilbert and Sullivan company. The show they are putting up is Ruddigore, and Kerry Greenwood manages to work lines and events from the operetta into the plot of her book. Since all the suspects and witnesses are among the actors, dressers, and stagehands, most interactions are necessarily very dramatic and emotional. Not knowing much about that world, I can’t speak of its accurate portrayal, but it was entertaining. It was also interesting to be able to explore the relationships between the dressers and their actors, a topic which I never really thought about. The fact that she could work in clever references to Gilbert and Sullivan and Ruddigore throughout the book was just an added bonus. But overall, the best part was the character Phryne Fisher. She is an unflappable woman with a good sense of humor, but she is also very much a lady. The mystery was light—not much suspense and no gore as the title might lead you to believe. But it was a good amusement, and sometimes that is exactly what I am looking for in a book.

    Book preview

    Ruddy Gore - Kerry Greenwood

    Ruddy Gore

    A Phryne Fisher Mystery

    Kerry Greenwood

    www.PhryneFisher.com

    Poisoned Pen Press

    29375.png

    Copyright

    Copyright © 1995 by Kerry Greenwood

    First U.S. Ebook Edition 2012

    Reprinted 2017

    ISBN: 9781464207655 ebook

    All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in, or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher of this book.

    The historical characters and events portrayed in this book are inventions of the author or used fictitiously.

    Poisoned Pen Press

    6962 E. First Ave., Ste. 103

    Scottsdale, AZ 85251

    www.poisonedpenpress.com

    [email protected]

    Contents

    Ruddy Gore

    Copyright

    Contents

    Dedication

    Acknowledgments

    Epigraph

    Author Note

    Chapter One

    Chapter Two

    Chapter Three

    Chapter Four

    Chapter Five

    Chapter Six

    Chapter Seven

    Chapter Eight

    Chapter Nine

    Chapter Ten

    Chapter Eleven

    Chapter Twelve

    Chapter Thirteen

    Chapter Fourteen

    Chapter Fifteen

    More from this Author

    Contact Us

    Dedication

    To my sister Janet Greenwood,

    for her courage and her delightful spirit.

    Acknowledgments

    With thanks to Jean Greenwood of the tireless feet, Foong Ling Kong, Jenny Pausacker, Richard Revill, David Greagg, Themmy Garner (ol’ pal, ol’ buddy), Laurie (cariad) Horner, Matthew Gordon-Clark and the inimitable Jan Gordon-Clark, Tim Daly, Dr Andrea Walker, Brian Di Caffa, Sarah Jane Reeh, Stuart Reeh, Arnold Pears, the memory of my great-uncle Gwilym Davies, the Chinese Museum, the Performing Arts Museum, the management of Her Majesty’s Theatre and the archives of the Victoria Police.

    Epigraph

    ‘They do it with mirrors, my boy.’

    Colonel Pewter in Ironicus, Arthur Hormer

    Author Note

    Please note that all Chinese names in this book are derived from the sixteenth-century classic Outlaws of the Marsh. The 1928 cast of Ruddigore did not include any murderers. No identification with any persons alive or dead is intended or should be inferred.

    Chapter One

    ‘How’s Bloodygore?’

    ‘It’s Ruddigore.’

    ‘Same thing, isn’t it?’

    ‘Does that mean when I say I admire your ruddy

    countenance, it means I like your bloody cheek?’

    Conversation with W. S. Gilbert (attrib.)

    The hatchet flicked past, end over end, and struck a wooden shutter with a hollow thud. Light gleamed along the polished blade.

    Phryne Fisher closed a leather-gloved hand on the handle and extracted it with one strong pull. She hefted it. An admirable weapon, well balanced, not too heavy, wickedly sharp.

    ‘Were you trying to attract my attention?’ she asked politely.

    An Asian face turned to her out of the mass of struggling bodies. He saw the black hair and pale face, the body shining silver like a Taoist goddess, and screamed at her, ‘Jau!’

    This meant nothing to Phryne, who had seen an old woman go down without a cry under three attackers clad in dark blue. Little Bourke Street was chill, empty and dark. Sodium glare from the widely spaced street lights turned every puddle on the slick cobbles into a mirror and left black velvet pools of night in between.

    In one of these some sort of street fight was occurring. Phryne was on her way to a gala performance of Ruddigore at His Majesty’s in celebration of Ron Hinkler’s triumphant flight. She was beginning to wonder whether taking a short cut had been such a good idea as it had seemed ten minutes before.

    Bunji Ross gasped, ‘There’s an old lady in that crowd of Chink blighters!’ She ran toward the fight and vanished into it like a fly in a frog’s mouth. Something would have to be done.

    Phryne stepped lightly to a corner, yelled, ‘The cops!’ and watched as two blue-clad toughs scrambled up and ran away. The other one stopped to kick the recumbent old woman again, and Phryne could not allow that. He had had his chance. She walked quickly up behind him, waited until his head was in the right position, and clipped him neatly with the hatchet, considerately using the back. She was clad in an outrageously expensive dress and did not want to get blood on it.

    He collapsed with a satisfactory moan. A returning blue-clad person grabbed him and dragged him off. The soft scrabbling footsteps died away and Phryne hauled Bunji up by the arm. She was much disarrayed but seemed uninjured.

    Phryne brushed Bunji down, found her hat, and said, ‘I wish you weren’t so hasty, Bunji dear. This looks like a private fight, you know. And that is—it was—a rather nice new dress.’

    ‘Yes, yes, and I’m sorry about the dress old thing, but we can’t allow old ladies to be attacked. It might start a fashion,’ panted Bunji, rubbing her midsection. ‘Ooh, drat, that hurts! One of those thugs punched me in the stomach. Don’t they know you aren’t supposed to hit a woman? I got him a good one, though. He’ll know how I feel about this sort of thing.’

    ‘Unchivalrous in the extreme,’ agreed Phryne, sighing. Bunji Ross, who was a good friend and a brave and determined flyer, was very hard on clothes. Since everything that Phryne had ever lent her had come back ruined, Phryne had paid for a new dress for her short plump companion. It had been a flowing but restrained dark plum velvet sacque with matching hat and shoes, but a roll in the gutters of Little Bourke Street had not improved it. Bunji was wet and muddy and had holed both her stockings.

    The young man got to his feet, supporting the old woman. She straightened slowly, wiping a shaking hand over her bruised face, then fastened her eyes on Phryne.

    She saw a small woman dressed in silver; a brocade dress which fitted close to her slim body, a cap of the same material with wings at each side, and on her small feet silver kid boots with wings at the ankle. Over the dress, she was draped in a flowing velvet coat with a yoke of brocade. She had a pale face and startling green eyes, and black hair barely longer than the cap. The hatchet swung loosely in her gloved hand. The old woman, creaking in all her joints, bowed. It was possible, she considered, that she had been rescued by a spirit, doubtless sent by the ancestors.

    The young man, who knew that there were no spirits, saw through his one functioning eye a woman of surpassing otherness, immensely attractive, supremely alive and shining from head to heel.

    Phryne abandoned the attempt to make Bunji elegant and decided that she would be acceptable if most of the mud was removed. Someone spoke to her and she turned.

    ‘Ngo zhang lei koh yan cheng,’ said the old woman, speaking to Phryne’s knees in a soft, cultured voice.

    ‘My grandmother thanks you,’ said the young man. ‘She says that we are deeply in your debt, Madame.’

    ‘Not at all,’ said Phryne. ‘Is your grandmother hurt?’

    ‘She says it is nothing to signify,’ the young man bowed in turn. ‘I am Lin Chung; it is the Lin family you have rescued in so timely a fashion.’

    His accent, to her astonishment, was pure Eton and Oxford. Phryne took the offered hand and looked appreciatively at him. She could not tell if he was handsome, as the recent altercation had split his lip and blackened his eye. However, he was not much taller than herself, beautifully compact and sleek, the hand in her own strong but gentle. She was intrigued.

    ‘Mr Lin, I have an engagement at the theatre. I really must restore my friend to respectability—can you provide us with a wash and brush up?’ He nodded and walked to a nearby door. It opened to his tap and the old woman hobbled inside.

    ‘I say, Phryne, is this safe?’ whispered Bunji. ‘They aren’t white slavers or something, are they?’

    It was too dark for Phryne’s withering glare to have any effect, so she settled for saying, ‘Don’t be so silly, Bunji. Besides, I’ve still got this hatchet.’

    They were in an anteroom to a warehouse, piled with bundles which oozed such pungent and alien scents that Phryne sniffed with delight. Saffron, she was sure; but what was that strange antiseptic reek, and what on earth could anyone use those evil-looking dried eels for?

    ‘In here, if you please, Madame,’ said Lin Chung. ‘I will send someone to attend you.’

    He conducted Phryne and Bunji into a small room of such elegance that Bunji exclaimed, ‘By Jove!’ and Phryne gasped.

    The walls were hung with red silk—bolts of it must have gone into the decoration. It was figured with small medallions of thread which, from the soft gleam, Phryne decided must be pure gold. Bunji stood on a priceless silk carpet carved with phoenixes and did not dare to move.

    ‘I say,’ she whispered, ‘what have we got ourselves into?’

    ‘I don’t know, but it’s very pretty.’

    A door opened in the silk-clad wall and a young woman as distant and aloof as a porcelain doll entered. With her came a stout elderly woman in a print dress and apron.

    Unspeaking, the woman and the girl laid a sheet on the floor, poured hot water into a huge T’ang bowl decorated with horses, and produced fluffy towels and soap. They divested Bunji of her dress, which was taken by an unseen person outside the door, and then dabbed gently at the mud stains and a small graze on Bunji’s knuckles.

    Bunji stood in exquisite embarrassment, not wishing to interrupt what appeared to be a ritual, as she was cleansed, dried, and provided with new stockings and wrapped in a padded silk gown. While the old woman took the washing things away, the girl produced a decanter and poured a stiff brandy for each woman, still mute. She looked about sixteen and had evidently been in bed, for her waist length hair was still in its nighttime plait. Phryne accepted the glass and said, ‘Hello.’

    The girl looked at her for the first time.

    ‘Hello,’ she replied sulkily. ‘Is this the sort of thing you drink? Only Grandmother said to look after you because you rescued her and I’ll get into trouble if it isn’t right.’

    ‘It’s just what we wanted. Thank you. What’s your name?’

    ‘Here they call me Annie. I’ll go and get the dress. Po Po’s maid is cleaning it.’

    ‘Annie, what did we interfere in?’

    ‘I can’t tell you.’ The composure broke and Annie’s black eyes flashed. ‘I’m not going to tell you. Why did you have to come along just then?’

    ‘Fate,’ said Phryne, nettled. ‘Can you find a safe place for this?’ She handed over the hatchet. Annie took it.

    ‘Grandmother wants her address,’ she pointed to Bunji.

    ‘Oh, why?’ Bunji’s thoughts had clearly turned to white slaving again.

    ‘So that she can send you a present. To thank you for rescuing her.’

    ‘Very well,’ said Bunji, writing down her name and address in a silk-covered notebook which the girl held out. ‘But it was my pleasure, really,’ she said doubtfully. Closing the book, Annie reverted to her doll-like stillness, bowed to an exact degree and left.

    Phryne looked at Bunji, who shrugged.

    ‘They’re Chinks, they’re aliens, what did you expect?’

    ‘Bunji, do stop calling them Chinks, it’s not polite.’

    ‘What else can I call them?’ asked Bunji reasonably. ‘That’s what they are. This is a nice robe, though.’ She smoothed the decorated material with a hard hand.

    The elderly woman returned with the dress, invisibly mended and cleaned of stains, and Bunji pulled it on and shoved her hat back onto her head, hiding her short hair.

    ‘Well, let’s go, it has been an exciting evening but I don’t want to miss seeing Ron again, though I don’t know about this opera, Phryne, I’ve never been a culture shark like you. Is it all fat ladies bellowing at each other?’

    ‘No, it’s very funny and you’ll like it,’ said Phryne firmly. She finished the cognac and put down the glass, wondering if they should just walk out. Bunji settled this by striding through the antechamber and into Little Bourke Street and Phryne followed. She had reached the door when the young man appeared, touched her arm and said, ‘Madame, we are in your debt. Can we know who you are?’

    ‘Why do you want to know?’ asked Phryne, pausing at the door. ‘It was all my friend’s idea, I just cleaned up after her. She’s the valiant one.’ He smiled at her, an action which must have hurt.

    ‘I wish to come and express our family’s gratitude in some tangible form.’ The sensual suggestion was strong and Phryne was attracted. She found her card and held it up.

    ‘What will you give me, then, Mr Lin, to express your gratitude?’

    ‘I will sit at your feet and sing your praise all night, Silver Lady.’ The voice was soft and Phryne felt an answering smile curving the corners of her mouth. ‘Most beautiful lady,’ said Lin Chung, ‘I will do whatever would most please you.’

    Phryne felt that this offer was agreeably unconditional. She allowed him to take the card, swept her velvet coat around her, and said, ‘Come on Thursday night, Mr Lin. To dinner at eight o’clock. I will think of something that you can do for me by then.’

    By then, she reflected as she walked quickly away behind Bunji, his face will have healed. And she calculated that she would at least get a length of that absolutely exquisite silk for the trouble of hitting an assailant over the head with a hatchet.

    Lin Chung gazed after the twinkle of her winged heels as the Honourable Phryne Fisher receded into the night.

    ***

    His Majesty’s Theatre was ablaze with light as they walked up to the corner and turned into the main street. Expensive cars were stopping to allow expensive by-invitation-only patrons to alight. There was a scent of French perfume so strong as to be almost a stench, and a flurry of coats and cloaks and glossy top hats.

    ‘There—’ Bunji dragged Phryne through the ranks. ‘There’s Bill, and Captain Larkin—come on, Phryne.’

    It was easy to find the flyers. They were gathered into a tight little group in one corner of the foyer, looking uncomfortable among the most shrill and glamorous of Melbourne Society.

    ‘What ho, Cap’n,’ Bunji hailed. ‘Is Ron here yet?’

    ‘No, he’s being smuggled in through the back. I say, Miss Fisher, you look spiffing! Mercury, ain’t you, like the Greek god? Remarkable, even down to the winged shoes.’ Phryne, who had been keeping her ensemble for just such an occasion, smiled warmly at the captain. Bunji nudged him.

    ‘Well, how’s poor Ron bearing up? He must be a nervous wreck by now.’

    ‘Oh, yes, the hero of the hour, poor chap,’ observed Captain Larkin, smoothing his moustache complacently. ‘Can’t bear publicity. I bet he’s wishing he was back up in the sky.’

    ‘Oh, why?’ asked Phryne, who had preserved her cloak uncrushed in her passage through the multitude by following exactly in the stouter Bunji’s wake.

    ‘Simple, it’s all predictable up in the air.’

    ‘Predictable?’ Phryne could not think of a less predictable pastime than flying.

    ‘Yes, only a certain number of things can go wrong, and only a few of those will kill you. Pity about Chubbie Miller and old Bill Lancaster breaking a wing, though. Otherwise they might have made it in before Hustlin’ Hinkler.’

    ‘Why is he called hustling?’ Phryne was shoved against Captain Larkin, who smelt delightfully of Floris’s stephanotis.

    ‘He leaves on time—every time. He arrives on time though Hell should bar the way. Most amazin’ chap. And he made the flight from Croydon to Darwin across all those islands and countries in fifteen and a half days. Remarkable man. But he’ll be deeply embarrassed by all this adulation. Not one for the populace, Hinkler.’

    ‘No? Dislikes his fellow man?’

    ‘Hates crowds and doesn’t trust enthusiasm any more than a Presbyterian,’ rejoined Bunji. ‘Unsentimental, perhaps that’s it. He really only likes a few people, his co-pilot and some flyers and his Mum. He hasn’t even given his plane a name.’

    ‘Now that is interesting,’ Phryne said, ‘I thought all planes had names.’

    Bunji agreed. ‘Yes, well, there’s Red Rose, that’s the Miller/Lancaster Avro, and your Rigel and my Tiger Cat and Bill’s Moonraker and Lindbergh’s Spirit of St Louis and Kingsford Smith’s Southern Cross. Yes. We all give the planes names—but he just calls his GE BOV, the call sign. Either he doesn’t want it to develop a personality, or…’

    ‘He just doesn’t think like that,’ concluded Captain Larkin. ‘By the way, Bunji old girl—someone took up a Tiger Moth and did some very pretty stuntin’ to welcome Hinkler. You wouldn’t happen to know who it was, would you?’

    ‘No,’ said Bunji, blushing the colour of her dress. ‘No, really? I can’t imagine how I missed it.’

    ‘I can’t imagine either,’ said Captain Larkin drily.

    Bunji, desperate for a distraction, asked, ‘Phryne, who is that woman in the red dress? She’s been staring at us.’

    ‘Oh, that’s Diana Ffoulkes,’ said Phryne, returning the gaze of bright blue eyes with interest. ‘Terribly rich, terribly bored, with a penchant for celebrities. Her last affair was with a flyer, I believe; her lovers never last. I wonder if she’s prospecting for a new one?’ She caught a glimpse of spun-silk hair and cupid’s bow mouth as Miss Ffoulkes bent her regard elsewhere. Phryne caught Captain Larkin smoothing his moustache complacently, a movement just short of preening, and grinned at him. He coughed and said quickly, ‘Come along, ladies, let’s go inside. There’s a surprise in the theatre.’

    Phryne, who considered that she had had enough surprises for one night, took his arm and followed him up the steps into the dress circle.

    Red plush was the dominant motif in His Majesty’s Theatre. That and gilt equal to the output of the Ballarat goldfields for at least three months. Everything glittered and shone which wasn’t draped and soft. Phryne sat down and looked at the stage.

    Over the proscenium was a large map of Hinkler’s epic journey, with the fuel stops picked out in red lamps. There were a lot of them, dotted across Europe and Asia.

    ‘Look up,’ invited Captain Larkin.

    Phryne leaned back and stared up into the blue dome with gold stars which dominated the theatre and gasped.

    There, circling on a hidden line, was a scale model of Hinkler’s Avro Avian, its propeller revolving slowly in the hot air.

    ‘I say!’ said Phryne. ‘That is impressive.’

    ‘It’s mine,’ said the captain modestly, ‘made it this winter. Luckily both the contending flyers were in Avros. Brought it into the theatre this morning and spent most of the day riggin’ it up, to the groans of the stage hand chappies, by the way. Said it couldn’t be done without ruining the sight-lines, whatever they are. Said it would cast shadows on the stage—apparently there are banks of lights on the dress circle, can’t say I’ve ever noticed ’em. They insisted on hauling it up that high, don’t know why. But it looks good, don’t it?’

    ‘It does indeed.’ Phryne was impressed. ‘Very nice work, Captain. And the map over the stage, that’s Hinkler’s journey?’

    ‘Yes. Started at Croydon, see, then stopped for fuel all the way across. Through Lyons and Dijon to Rome and Naples, then Catania, Tripoli, Benghazi, Sollum, Cairo, then Baghdad, Ur, Bushire, Bandar Abbas, Char, Karachi, Jodhpur, across India to Kuala Lumpur, Singapore, Muntok—that’s where Miller and Lancaster came to grief—then Surabaja, Bima, Atambua and Darwin. Amazin’ journey. All on his own. Have to admire him.’

    ‘Yes, I do,’ said Phryne. The model

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