A gorgeous man lies cradled in Phryne's arms - but this isn't seduction; it's death . . .

The Honourable Phryne Fisher has just had her windscreen shot out, but worse is the fate of the pale young man lying in the road in front of her car, his body riddled with bullets, who draws his final breath with Phryne at his side.

Outraged by his murder, Phryne promises to find out who is responsible . . . though she doesn't know yet just how deeply into the mire she will have to go - bank robbery, tattoo parlours, spiritualist halls . . . and then there are the Anarchists! But when her beloved maid Dot disappears there is nothing Phryne won't do to get her back . . .


'Phryne Fisher . . . an investigator with all the charm, wit and intelligence of James Bond, and as many lovers.' Sunday Sun