not

into something solid, and felt the gr

d the voice. It was low and le

nd the face above

two years he had stood behind my husband at every gala and board dinner, and in tha

dr

watching your window. I saw the blind go up. Please keep your voice down. Th

turned from the grave toward the yew

on this hill finds the dead woman at her own funeral, and whoever put you

ad ever heard him make. It wa

he

wa

s and down a service lane to a dark grey SUV with its engine off, and had me in

husband

the mirror. "That's

not an

y one I'm all

burbs and the suburbs into pine woods, and I said nothing, beca

d a different door. "The clinic flo

no visitors." A muscle moved in his jaw. "You were

ys, and I wo

, ma

e out as a cough, and my

nside it was clean and cold and nearly empty: a kitchen no one had cooked in, a sofa with the plastic barely off, a bedroom with fresh shee

n. The front door had a keypad on the inside as well as the out. And Idr

e," I

N

pto

N

uest or a

who had been asked before. "Mr Ashford will b

y hand into my coat pocket to check that the brass key

ht, headlights swep

l in the funeral suit, but the tie was gone and his collar was open, and there was grave mud on his shoes. Tall,

ep in his pockets, the way a man hides them when they

His voice was rough. "You

burie

es

death certifi

es

I had braced for denial, for the smooth explanations he us

athing," he said quie

ry convenien

a true

hteen percent passes

es

control of the compan

lly,

u look like a man who killed his wife for a controlling

the memory of it, there and gone.

me a reas

oon and said goodbye to a coffin that was not you. Do you think that was easy

bi, and neither was a good speech. But my pulse had stopped its frightened stutter

dy is in

losed like a doo

cia

dy to hear, and some of it you sh

to decide what

gh he had gripped something rough for hours. "Someone tried to kill you nearly three weeks ago. They made it look like an acciden

I hi

it that way, or whoever put yo