Phryne is attending a dance marathon at a jazz club with 'a tedious but socially acceptable escort', Charles Freeman. Tintagel Stone the band leader leader and banjo player has a delectable pair of blue eyes. The last two marathon couples are exhausted but still dancing. One stumbles and falls--never to rise again. Phryne is flung headlong into murder, blackmail, missing persons, and a brief liaison--or two, although lamenting from time to time her anarchist lover met in Death at Victoria Dock.
The story ranges from St Kilda to the Australian Alps. Flying with Phyrne in her Tiger Moth through that area, up through Mansfield and on to Mount Howitt plains were highlights of the story. Having walked some of this area I was instantly transported back there, to the sights, smells and sounds. Thank you Kerry Greenwood! As Phyrne reflects when walking to a hut, 'this cold wilderness was utterly unfamiliar, but it did not feel hostile, just indifferent to her fate. If she fell off this path and was broken into a hundred pieces nothing up here would be one whit interested.'
Here are places where some find solace and others inspiration. The descriptions of this part of the world and the people, priceless! As Phyne says, 'they did not talk much and therefore liked to give every word its proper weight. She reflected that a writer might find this touching. Words were seldom given the respect they deserved.' (I loved this last sentiment)
The war references--Gallipoli and Pozières, and the effect of these battles on the veterans as always are stark reminders of the costs paid.
Enjoyable as always.
A NetGalley ARC