DEATH BEFORE WICKET - Poisoned Pen Press (UK)

Death Before Wicket
‘But you did it.’
‘Oh, yes. My field is languages but I’m quite good at figures.
We’d finished when the Dean started on Mr. Sykes about his
inefficiency; he is inefficient but the Dean makes him more
so, he bellows at him and flusters him and then he makes silly
mistakes. Finally the Dean went away and we stored the ledgers
in the safe. Mr. Sykes was so upset that he dropped the Book of
Hours, and that made Bisset yell at him. Professor Kirkpatrick
reproved Bisset for being unmannerly and they nearly quarrelled,
too. They don’t see eye to eye with each other on Old
Norse borrowings, either. It was one of those prickly days. Mr.
Sykes wanted to get away to his garden club meeting, so we just
shoved everything into the safe and went out. I heard the safe
clunk shut, so I’m sure it was locked. And Mr. Sykes locked the
faculty office, too.’
‘Have you a good memory for figures as well as a good head
for them?’ asked Phryne.
‘Yes, pretty good,’ agreed Harcourt.
‘Then you could probably reconstruct the ledger in all essentials,’
she continued.
‘Yes, but they wouldn’t trust me now,’ said Harcourt sadly.
‘Another point in your favour,’ commented Phryne. ‘You
could have looked at those exam papers at any time. How long
had they been in the safe?’
‘Oh, they’ve been there for weeks,’ said Harcourt. ‘I wouldn’t
do that. I’m good. I want…I wanted…to prove to them all that
I’m good.’
‘So you shall,’ said Phryne. ‘Is there anything else you would
like to confess? Here come our friends with a bottle.’
‘Nothing more. But do be careful, Miss Fisher. These people
are dangerous.’
‘So am I,’ Phryne replied. ‘Watch.’
She accepted some of Joss’ red wine, took her cup over to
Madame Sosostris and sat down uninvited, looking at the array
of tarot cards.