The country club was as big as one could expect from a floating city with limited space, but it did have a great amount of amenities and Oliver could see the appeal of such a place. He'd gladly take his tea here on occasion, if he weren't a world-famous detective with a hard past and a chip on his shoulder. 

"Oliver," Juliet groaned. "You can't go in there with this detective act if you're to appear with me. Chadwick Mistkettle would never look at me the same again! And I don't even want to know what Cecilia Darling would say behind my back."

"I can't help what I am, Jules," Oliver said as he walked up to the grand brass doors of the Brasslantis Country Club.

"But, Oliver... two hours ago you were-"

"Juliet!" A throaty voice called from a balcony above. The left wing of the club was only one story tall, leaving space for an elaborate rooftop terrace where many socialites were taking afternoon tea.

"Oh wonderful," Juliet muttered. "Speak of the devil and she shall appear."

"Who is that?" Oliver asked, puling one of his goggle lenses down over his eyes for a slightly magnified view of the woman above them.

"That's Cecilia Darling," Juliet grumbled. "Widow to the late Marshall Darling, and inheritor of the Darling Brass Refinery. She's also the queen bee of the country club's tea terrace."

"Interesting," Oliver said. "Is she a suspect?" 

"I don't think so, but let's go see her. Maybe she knows something." Juliet cupped her hands by her mouth, careful not to dislodge any of her steam-powered rings on her delicate hand. "Hello, Cecelia! Save me a seat, will you? I'm on my way up!"

"So what does she want with you?" Oliver asked, pulling a smoking pipe from somewhere in his coat.

"When did you start smoking a pipe?" Juliet asked.

"Oh, sweet Juliet," Oliver chuckled. "All great detectives do it."

"Of course they do," Juliet mumbled. "Come on, let's get up there."

Juliet pushed open the grand doors to the Brasslantis Country Club and the pair were greeted by a line of servants on either side of the grand foyer. It made quite a show. What wasn't trimmed in brass was trimmed in the finest imported leathers. The whole club was a jewel of the finest things Brasslantis had to offer, it was no wonder a woman like Juliet would spend her days here.

"Come on," Juliet said, drawing Oliver's attention away from the details of the foyer. "The tea balcony is this way."

Juliet took an elaborate staircase to the upper floor, and Oliver followed while puffing on his pipe. Windows revealed that the back of the country club included an actual garden, with real grass an everything.

"Well twist my whiskers!" Oliver exclaimed. "Bringing that much soil from the surface must have cost a fortune!" 

"Hush," Juliet said as they reached the top of the stairs. "You're going to make us sound like bumpkins. Just let me do the talking for a while, will you?"

The pair of the walked through a large double doorway to an open air tea parlor. A dozen tables sat around a beautiful brass steam-powered fountain. A sculpture of none other than Luca Cardego, celebrity billionaire and the man who made it possible for Brasslantis to be founded. There were other notable figures as well in the form of sculptures and art that lined the terrace. Wait staff pushed carts of tea and snacks around, offering their goods to the tables of country club elite.

"Juliet!" Cecelia called. Oliver looked to the woman making a scene with his renowned detective skills. She sat at a table near the railing, which was how she must have spotted Juliet in the first place. Her hair was in an elaborate bun, with the tiniest top had Oliver had ever seen right on top but artfully tilted to the side. She had a number of steam-powered pieces on her person. Several pocket watches, brass goggles with at least a dozen lenses, and what would appear to be a clockwork corset, tightening and loosening as she tried to breathe. Around the table, Cecelia was surrounded by three friends of equal apparent wealth.

"Cecelia!" Juliet walked to the woman with open arms, accepting the patronizing air-hug that Cecelia brought to her.

"You look healthy, especially around the middle. Eating well I suppose?" Cecelia winked.

"I only aspire to be half as... healthy as you, Cecelia dear," Juliet quipped back.

Cecelia's mouth twitched, but she didn't drop her smile. "Why don't you join us? We were just sitting down to tea."

"That would be lovely, Cecelia." Juliet smiled sweetly at her, then walked over to where one of Cecelia's companions had already pulled out a chair for her. Oliver joined as well, and tucked away his pipe. Pretty soon it was Juliet, Cecelia, Oliver, two gentlemen that Oliver didn't know the name of, and the quiet Emily Goldpedal, whom Oliver recognized as an editor for the Brasslantis Times and writer for their gossip column. 

"I'll call for more tea, dears," Cecelia said sweetly, raising a hand and signaling a waiter with a cart.

"Thank you, Mrs. Darling," Oliver said as he unclipped his tea cup from the leather holster at his side.

"So, Juliet," One of the men caught her attention. "Who is your friend here?" 

Juliet eyed Oliver and pursed her lips. "This is Oliver Ambrose. He is-"

"The sharpest detective in Brasslantis, lovely to meet you." Oliver shook hands while Juliet roller her eyes.

"Oliver," she said. "This is Harry Wellslingtonford the fourth and Bob Miller."

"A pleasure," the gentlemen all said.

"Ah! The tea is here." Cecelia clapped her hands together while the waiter situated the newcomers with tea and scones. 

"So, what brings you to the club today, Oliver?" Asked Harry.

"A bit of work," Oliver said, really bringing out his moody nature with a forlorn look in the distance. "Are any of you familiar with a Miss Phoebe Lushington?"

"Of the First Bank of Brasslantis Lushingtons?" Cecelia clarified. "Of course! A dear girl. A bit of an odd duck, but she means well I'm sure."

"Why do you ask?" Bob asked.

"Oliver, I think that information is classif-"

"Because, Phoebe Lushington has been found dead. Murdered," Oliver whispered, dramatically.

"No!" Cecelia covered her mouth. Emily looked like she was about to feint, and Harry and Bob exchanged surprised looks. 

"But... she was fine just yesterday," Harry said. "She was here at tea time with the rest of the usual crowd."

"Who could want a ditz like Phoebe dead?" Emily said, weakly. "She wouldn't hurt a fly."

The table sat in quiet contemplation for a long moment. Laughter and background chatter from other tables on the terrace snapped Cecelia out of it first. "Well, she had been associating with that mysterious character of hers lately."

Murmurs of agreement swept around the table. 

"Wait, who was she been seeing?" Oliver asked with a frown. "A mysterious character?" 

The group looked around at each other, and Cecelia cleared her throat. "Well, we don't have a name. She would go around saying 'my friend' this and 'my friend' that. But we all got the feeling she was talking about the same person. What's more strange is that she became more reclusive in the last few weeks. Fired most of her staff and bought an apartment with only one butler to take care of things."

"I can't believe anyone would want to move out of the Lushington estate," Juliet whistled. "That place is gorgeous, and completely steam powered."

"Well something made her move out," Cecelia said in hushed tones. "And just between us, I have suspicions of her 'friend' having something to do with it."

"Can't rule out her family though," Harry said nodding sagely. "Madam Lushington is known to be a real lady dragon of the family. That can't be easy to live under."

"Excellent," Oliver said, standing and draining his tea. "I think you have helped a great deal."

"Oliver, where are you going?" Juliet asked.

"To the Lushington estate and the new apartment!" Oliver said, dashing though the doors and off the terrace. 

"Oliver!" Juliet called after him, lifting her skirts and running to catch up. "You haven't the first clue as to where to find the estate or the apartment!"

But Oliver couldn't her her over the smugness of his detective's ego, and the two of them ran from the club and into Brasslantis.