Murder on a Midsummer Night (23 page)

BOOK: Murder on a Midsummer Night
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Phryne began to giggle, leaning on Lin Chung’s beautifully tailored middle. Two women conversing over the shoulders of the men they were dancing with paused near them.

‘Oh, yes, dear, you have to persuade her to sell things to you,’ said one. ‘It’s frightfully exciting, just like Paris!’

‘They say she was an artist’s model,’ said the other. ‘Perhaps I’ll look in at Manifold’s tomorrow. I want to match that Royal Doulton cup, they don’t make that design anymore. And they say she has a little man who can glue anything together, no matter how frightfully shattered . . .’

The Bonnetti family were dancing, mostly with each other. Julia, resplendant in a teal-blue gown, sat decorously by the wall, sipping champagne cup. Bernadette sat with her, already seeming to be more awake.

There was a good showing of Melbourne’s best and brightest, though Miss Fisher’s parties were always thought to be a bit—well, mixed. One could find oneself dancing with a well set-up young policeman, perhaps, or a Chinese, or an artist. Which was, of course, what one liked about them.

Professor Rowlands, escorting a beautiful, plump woman with long red hair, had already found a University Fellow who would love to lease his Queenscliff house and staff to Miss Fisher for as long as she wanted. He was going to Arnhem Land to investigate song cycles and was expecting to be away for three months.

Phryne surveyed the dancing throng. ‘They’re very decorative,’ she said idly.

‘The thing I want to know,’ said Lin, not attending, ‘is, where did Augustine get those forty pre-Roman shekels that Mr Rosenberg just bought?’

‘Some things we are not meant to know,’ said Phryne solemnly. ‘You could go and ask Gerald’s new physical medium, of course,’ she added.

‘No,’ said Lin. ‘I am giving up magic for the present. What were you saying about the crowd?’

‘They’re very decorative,’ Phryne repeated. She wreathed her arms around his neck.

‘I am a very lucky woman,’ she said.

‘You sure about this bloke, Curly?’

‘Sure. He’s ryebuck on a straight wire. And we got to sell ’em to someone straight. You need to buy a van, Vern needs to buy a house, I got to have something to live on and Jim’s wife’s sick. I melted the pitch off all of ’em and I reckon the boss’ll give us a good price. Are we on?’

‘We’re on,’ the others agreed.

Cedric Yates, called Curly because of his straight hair, left his mates and went into the shop to show Augustine Manifold the coins, which had been glued into bandoliers and carried out of the Holy Land into Australia, to wait for a time when they needed the money.

Because Augustine was a good bloke, they told him where the coins came from.

AFTERWORD

This book has left me feeling a bit like a Dr Who casualty; time-sick. Fortunately I can vouch for all of my facts. The crinoline was more comfortable than five petticoats: contemporary women said so. The Light Horsemen did see a ghost (and didn’t know it for a crusader because they thought crusaders wore plate armour, which in fact didn’t come in for another four hundred years). And antique shops continue to weave magic for people who like the past. This book is in loving memory of my Great Uncle Donald (‘Doody’) McKenzie, who was in the charge to Beersheba with his brothers. His bandolier was sitting on my desk as I wrote.

Please feel free to email me on
[email protected]
if you would like to talk to me.

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