DEATH BEFORE WICKET - Poisoned Pen Press (UK)

Chapter Eight
Here bowled by Death’s unerring ball
A cricketer renowned. By name John Small.
—Epitaph on John Small from Carr’s Illustrated
Dictionary of Extraordinary Cricketers,
J.L. Carr, Quarter Books London 1983
It was never easy to ambush Phryne, and she was in such a state
of high arousal that she reacted like a cat. She slid through the
headlock. How such a small, light sheila had done it Sharkbait
Kennedy could never afterwards explain. She put her back
against a wall and flicked open her purse.
Sharkbait Kennedy looked into the hollow eye of a small
pistol and gulped. Born and bred in the ’Loo, working for a
female boss with all the delicacy of a conger eel, he entertained
no comfortable illusions about the threats posed by the Weaker
Sex. This lady—he hastily redefined her as a lady—was holding
her pistol very steadily and he was in trouble.
‘I think you should tell me,’ said a voice so blackly furious
that it stung his ears, ‘why you grabbed me. If you are just a
common thief I’ll let you go. But if you’ve got anything to do
with Madame and Marrin I’m going to shoot you in the belly
and it will take you days to die and every moment will be agony.