I have a thing for female aviators. Who doesn’t? Especially those from the 1920s. I met Phryne Fisher in Cocaine BLues long ago, so when I saw another installment of her adventures, with her dressed up in aviator togs on the cover, I just had to read it.
Phryne Fisher is her usual self. Fearless, carefree, and quite the femme fatale. She’s dancing the night away in a Melbourne hotel when someone drops dead at her feet. Phryne suspects the jazz band that’s playing. She hooks up with one of them and there’s some jazz history thrown in for lovers of the jazz and blues era. Phryne unofficially investigates and also takes on another case, that of her missing date, and then yet another missing person.
The Australian setting, and Victoria in the 1920s is different and enchanting. Purists might be shocked by what she gets up to in her spare time. So this book is Victorian, sans Victorian hangups. And that’s a poor pun if there ever was one. I enjoyed reading about Phryne’s airplane, and the way she soars into the sky. Fuel is sent on ahead a few days before her trip so that she will have it when she lands at a certain place to refuel. The whole village comes to greet her when she lands, and they offer her tea. Now how cute is that? Can you see that happening today?
I had no idea there were Australian Alps. But it seems there is such a mountain range and there was even a Gold Rush over there. One of the reasons I love reading is to find out new things. I found out a fair number in the Green Mill Murder.
If you like a good mystery and a heroine who has a flair for adventure with a devil may care attitude, this book is a must read for you.