Raisins and almonds - Poisoned Pen Press (UK)

Raisins and Almonds 18
She thought about Miss Lee, another remarkable woman.
Straight out of bondage, she had handled the press with
resource. The screaming headlines in The Herald with a female
by-line—who would have thought it?—were evidence of her
wisdom. ‘Bookshop owner cleared of murder charges’, it had
said. ‘Police apologize.’ In much smaller letters which seemed to
convey some scepticism, the front page added ‘Police confident
of early arrest’. Phryne hoped that this very public retraction
and absolution would silence gossip, but knew that it would
persist. But Miss Lee had handled confinement with aplomb.
A woman who could concentrate on Latin declensions under
such circumstances could handle gossip.
Phryne was just rehearsing her own knowledge of that language—capio,
capere, cepi, captum—when she heard a creak.
The door into the undercroft from Exhibition Street was
opening.
Phryne felt the tension level in the hot air rising. A slim dark
figure was fumbling along the wall, looking for a light switch.
There was a crash as he tripped over and a choked scream as he
was apprehended by Robinson, who recognized him.
‘Yossi Liebermann,’ grunted the policeman. ‘Now don’t
struggle, young man. We’re after bigger game than you. You’re
small fry. Now sit still and don’t say a word, and maybe I won’t
charge you with breaking and entering, for which you’ll get six
months. No, Constable, it’s not the one,’ he said to his offsider,
who had run to his aid. ‘Tell the others to stay where they are
and keep mum. This is just a young fool and nothing’s going to
happen to him if he gives his word to be quiet.’
‘I give my word.’ Yossi, released, crouched by Phryne’s side.
She put down her hand and he grasped it urgently. His hand
was hot and sweaty with fear and shock.
‘Miss, please…my formula,’ he pleaded, almost in a whisper.
‘Shah,’ said Phryne. ‘Later.’
‘How did you know that he wasn’t the murderer?’ asked
Phryne of Robinson in an undertone.