DEATH BEFORE WICKET - Poisoned Pen Press (UK)

Death Before Wicket
‘Dot, wouldn’t you like to take the children into the garden?’
asked Phryne. ‘It seems a pity to waste all this sun.’
‘Yes, take the little darlings to see the chooks,’ said Mrs.
Ryan. Dot went out obediently, shooing six toddlers out onto
the back steps.
‘Now, tell me what you didn’t want Joan’s sister to hear,’
said Phryne, laying a pound note on the table. Mrs. Ryan
scanned Phryne’s face. The widow laid a workworn hand over
the money.
‘God love you, you’re fast on the uptake for all you’re a highborn
lady. I think Mrs. Thompson took the bad path. I saw her
collected from here every night for a week by Tillie Devine’s
motor car, and she came home God knows how late. Her husband
knew, too. Pleased to take the money, maybe, though he
beat her for being a whore. Where she is now I don’t know, but
you could always ask Tillie, though she’s a wicked strong brawling
woman. Hush! They’re coming back. She’s lucky to have a
devoted sister who is a good girl, anyone can see that,’ added
Mrs. Ryan. ‘But I don’t know that she wants to be found.’
That was Phryne’s fear, also. But she said nothing to Dot: she
would find out soon enough. If twenty pounds was the price
for a man’s life in Sydney, what could a woman possibly hope
to realise on her own virtue?