I love early mornings. They mean I have the first shift at the telephone exchange. Not that I mind working extra hours, or doing the late shift, because we need every penny. But then who doesn’t in 1931, where millions of Australians are unemployed? I usually walk. The tram costs tuppence, and it’s less than half an hour for me. My job as a switchboard operator and a little extra income from our lodger, a police detective, is what keeps a roof over our head, us being my mom, my godfather Uncle Sal, and me. It’s a good enough job and when I come home shortly after four o’clock, I switch the wireless on and help with the chores for an hour or so before the fun starts.
Because – drum roll, please, at six o’clock I stop being Frances Palmer, dutiful daughter (don’t get me wrong, I love my mom), and become Signorina Francesca, dazzling assistant of Salvatore the Magnificent. That used to be Uncle Sal’s stage name when he performed in every important vaudeville theatre in the world until a grogged-up driver ended his career in an accident.
My transformation takes me from our modest home to the Top Note, Adelaide’s best night club. Everything about it is bonzer. It’s owned by Jack Sullivan, my boyfriend and the most wonderful man in the world, apart from Uncle Sal and my brother. People call him Captain Jack, if they served with him during the war, like most of the staff, or “White Jack”, because the only law he breaks is the six o’clock alcohol ban. My uncle in Melbourne is a policeman, and even he says it’s a stupid law. At least at the Top Note you don’t have to be afraid you’ll be served snake poison. Jack only serves the best whiskey, gin and champagne. The “Frances Palmer Special” is reserved for me – on my first night at the club I asked for lemonade because I didn’t want to get into trouble with the police, and Jack named it after me as a private joke.
As Signorina Francesca I wear a blonde wig and a spiffing shimmery dress, and I can’t stop smiling whenever we rehearse our act. Uncle Sal and I are part of a charity show at the Top Note. The money will go to soup kitchens and an orphanage, which is one reason to be happy. The other reason is that I’ve dreamed of performing with Uncle Sal ever since he came to live with us, a few years ago.
We rehearse for an hour or so, and then we eat with our friends at the Top Note, before everything is made ready for the party crowd. The fanciest people in Adelaide come here to dance, to drink and to listen to Dolores Barden, the star of the Top Note and the best singer in Australia.
I’m doubly lucky, because my best friend works at the Top Note as Dolores’s dresser and cloak room attendant. We always find time for a giggle and a chinwag. And then there’s Jack, dancing with me to “Stardust” and “Dream A Little Dream Of Me”. Uncle Sal and I leave around ten when I’m on the early at the switchboard. I swap my high-heeled dance shoes for my everyday shoes, and we stroll to the tram.
On our way, we normally encounter two or three men with begging bowls. I keep a few pennies in my pockets for them, but that’s all I can do. It’s hard to leave an enchanted place like the Top Note and come face to face with these half-starved men. But I still feel safe with Uncle Sal by my side. If you want to try your luck with somebody, all I’m saying is, don’t choose two people used to juggling and knife-throwing. . . Just because I look like Frances Palmer again on my way home, I still possess all the skills of Signorina Francesca. . .
Murder at the Races is the second book in the “Jack and Frances” historical mystery series, released June 1, 2020.
Nothing is a dead-cert in a race against a cold-blooded killer . . .
1931. Frances Palmer is overjoyed when her brother Rob returns to Adelaide as a racecourse veterinarian. But all is not well on the turf, and when a man is murdered, there is only one suspect – Rob.
Frances and her boyfriend, charming night club owner Jack Sullivan, along with ex-vaudevillian Uncle Sal and their friends have only one chance to unmask he real murderer, by infiltrating the racecourse. The odds are against them, but luckily putting on a dazzling show where everything depends on sleight of hand is what they do best. But with time running out for Rob, the race is on . . .
If you love sparkling dialogue, glamorous settings and the charm of the Golden Age mysteries, you’ll enjoy Carmen Radtke’s cozy whodunnits, perfect for fans of Agatha Christie, Ngaio Marsh, Rhys Bowen and Carola Dunn.
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Meet the author
Carmen Radtke has spent most of her life with ink on her fingers and a dangerously high pile of books by her side. She has worked as a newspaper reporter on two continents and always dreamt of becoming a novelist.
When she found herself crouched under her dining table, typing away on what was to become Walking in the Shadow between two earthquakes in Christchurch, New Zealand, she realised she was hooked for life.
She’s the author of the cozy historical mysteries The Case of the Missing Bride, Glittering Death, both featuring Alyssa Chalmers, the Jack Sullivan quick read False Play at the Christmas Party and the Jack and Frances historical cozies, A Matter of Love and Death and Murder at the Races. She’s busy writing the next Jack and Frances adventure.
When Carmen is not writing, reading or dreaming of travel, she is busy acting as resident cat servant or tap-dancing (badly). Follow Carmen on BookBub, or on Twitter and her website (very much a work in progress) is carmenradtke.com.