” It was sitting in her suitcase in the same pocket as the expired bus tickets. A thin line of red appeared in the white neck. ” She relented. ‘So it would appear. Now he lay there, a doubled-up mass, with ugly distorted features, and a dark wet stain dripping slowly on to the carpet. It belonged to his father, and was worn by him on the night he was murdered. She heard the bamboo curtain rattle slightly. She had never expected John capable of saying such things, of thinking such macabre ideas.
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