DEATH BEFORE WICKET - Poisoned Pen Press (UK)

11 Kerry Greenwood
At the mention of Marrin’s name, Ayers flushed red.
‘That scoundrel,’ he snarled.
‘Indeed. You have had dealings with Marrin?’
‘He wanted to buy the papyrus from Bretherton, as if it was
his to sell. I’d burn it myself rather than let Marrin get his filthy
hands on it for his disgusting magic.’
‘You think that Marrin brought this snake bite about?’
‘Who else could? I saw no snake.’
‘Do you believe in magic?’
‘No one who has any acquaintance with the East disbelieves
in magic, Miss Fisher.’
‘Have you got the papyrus?’
‘No,’ said Professor Ayers.
‘Do you know where it is?’ asked Phryne. Ayers leaned forward
and grabbed her by the shoulder, shouting into her face.
‘If I knew where the bloody thing was, would I be so worried?
Would I be asking Bretherton to ask you to find it? Use your
bloody brains, Miss Fisher!’
‘Take your bloody hands off me or I’ll break your bloody
arm,’ said Phryne with calculated violence, and he released her
immediately with an expression of loathing, as though he had
found himself clutching a snake.
‘Yes, you don’t like women, do you? In the parlance of my
own milieu, Dr. Ayers, I’d say you were stone butch.’
He staggered to his chair and sat down again, putting his
head in his hands.
‘You bitch,’ he muttered.
‘The original bitch,’ said Phryne with some pride. ‘But I’m
not out to get you, if you didn’t poison Joss. Nor am I interested
in blackmail. You are clearly being blackmailed by someone who
knows about your proclivities. Who has you over—excuse the
metaphor—a barrel, Dr. Ayers?’
‘I can’t tell you,’ he groaned. ‘I really can’t.’
‘Will you let Bretherton tell me, then? You can release him
from his word,’ insinuated Phryne. Ayers removed his hands
and stared at her.