DEATH BEFORE WICKET - Poisoned Pen Press (UK)

Death Before Wicket
John Bretherton looked uncomfortable. ‘I don’t know that
I’m going to enjoy this as much as I thought,’ he confessed.
‘Do you want your papyrus back or not?’ asked Phryne.
‘I want it back,’ he said.
999
The Hotel Australia put on a splendid dinner, and Phryne
intended to enjoy it; investigation made her hungry. She felt
exhilarated. Out of her own milieu, with none of her own helpers,
in a foreign city which became more foreign by the moment,
she was getting somewhere. Or so it appeared.
‘The Dean,’ she suggested, and Professor Bretherton chuckled
into his vichyssoise.
‘Old Gorman? Surely you jest. I’d put the chances of him
escorting a lady to his office for a little dalliance at three hundred
to one. More. He’s very respectable.’
‘And is it your experience—or Juvenal’s—that the very
respectable are also the very virtuous?’ asked Phryne. The cold
soup really was remarkable.
‘No, of course, every man is basically rotten, both Juvenal and I
agree. But the Dean wouldn’t dare. He might want to. I suppose all
men have lusts, disgusting thought when one considers Gorman,
but I admit the possibility. But he wouldn’t put his academic
position in jeopardy for any woman. I don’t think he even likes
women much. One only has to look at his wife. And he would
never put himself in the position where he might be refused. Far
too much of a risk. Actually, more of a certainty, when one considers
Gorman.’ Professor Bretherton shuddered slightly.
‘He might steal the contents of the safe for another reason,’
Phryne suggested.
‘Possibly, but why? He’s independently wealthy, his family
owns half of the Northern Territory, mines and so on. I doubt
he’d want a Book of Hours. He has all the artistic appreciation
of a hog. His own wife’s garnets went and she’s a formidable
woman who would make her lack of appreciation sting. He
wouldn’t take the books, surely, he knew what a state they were