For a woman wrapped only in an ancient tapestry (a delightful scene with a unicorn and a suggestively clad maiden), Phryne was nonetheless the most composed person in the room.
“Drop that carpet, miss,” growled the thug.
“You wouldn’t want me to do that,” Phryne said with a demure smile that fooled precisely no one, “I haven’t got a thing underneath — except my gun, of course.” A bulge in the tapestry motioned impatiently for her opponent to drop his own weapon. “So let the nice inspector go, and I’ll consider not shooting you for impertinence.”
The thug shoved Jack into her arms and made his escape. The museum’s alarms rang belatedly, the security gate closing off the avenue of pursuit.
“I think I’ll call your bluff, Miss Fisher,” Jack said. “You lied about having a gun under there.”
“Of course,” she purred, drawing him inside the folds of the tapestry draped around her bare shoulders, “but the good part is true.”
Fill: Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries
“Drop that carpet, miss,” growled the thug.
“You wouldn’t want me to do that,” Phryne said with a demure smile that fooled precisely no one, “I haven’t got a thing underneath — except my gun, of course.” A bulge in the tapestry motioned impatiently for her opponent to drop his own weapon. “So let the nice inspector go, and I’ll consider not shooting you for impertinence.”
The thug shoved Jack into her arms and made his escape. The museum’s alarms rang belatedly, the security gate closing off the avenue of pursuit.
“I think I’ll call your bluff, Miss Fisher,” Jack said. “You lied about having a gun under there.”
“Of course,” she purred, drawing him inside the folds of the tapestry draped around her bare shoulders, “but the good part is true.”