Chapters (51)
- Cover
- Dead in Devon
- DEDICATION
- CONTENTS
- AUTHOR’S NOTE
- PROLOGUE
- CHAPTER ONE
- CHAPTER TWO
- CHAPTER THREE
- CHAPTER FOUR
- CHAPTER FIVE
- CHAPTER SIX
- CHAPTER SEVEN
- CHAPTER EIGHT
- CHAPTER NINE
- CHAPTER TEN
- CHAPTER ELEVEN
- CHAPTER TWELVE
- CHAPTER THIRTEEN
- CHAPTER FOURTEEN
- CHAPTER FIFTEEN
- CHAPTER SIXTEEN
- CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
- CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
- CHAPTER NINETEEN
- CHAPTER TWENTY
- CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
- CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
- CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
- CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
- CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
- CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
- CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
- CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
- CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
- CHAPTER THIRTY
- CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
- CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
- CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
- CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
- CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
- CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
- CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
- CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
- CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
- CHAPTER FORTY
- CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
- ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
- ABOUT THE AUTHOR
- By Stephanie Austin
- COPYRIGHT
Over the weeks, I have stopped feeling conflicted about Paul. In the beginning I felt as if I had betrayed him horribly. But now I feel I can’t forgive him. Not because he lost control of his temper and killed poor Nick, not even because he tried to save himself by attempting to murder me, but because of all those solicitous phone calls after Nick’s death, those anxious visits to check up on how I was. They reveal a cold, calculating side of his nature, somehow more shocking to me than the exploding heat of his violence.
I sent the rings I found back to Richard. He passed them on to Helena Burgoyne, from whom I have heard not a single word of thanks. Possibly, the humble pie has choked her.
Mrs Verbena Clarke had her interview with the police, which cleared the air. She then had the grace to apologise to me and to offer me back my job. I savoured the moment, but decided to decline.
‘So, now you’re in antiques do you think you can stay out of trouble?’ Ricky demanded. ‘Keep away from murder and other sorts of mayhem?’
‘I shouldn’t think so,’ I replied, eyeing up the delicacies on the three-tier cake stand that the waiter had just placed on our table. I selected a raspberry meringue, wincing as I bit through the fragile shell. ‘After all,’ I continued, when I could speak, ‘it was getting into antiques that got me into trouble in the first place.’
Ricky sighed and rolled an eye at me. ‘Well, promise us you’ll try.’
They both looked at me, expectantly. Morris giggled.
I nodded at them, licking the corner of my mouth for escaping cream. ‘I’ll do my best,’ I said.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I want to thank Martin, whose support for me never falters, Mum and Rose for their encouragement, and Di Davies, my dear book-swopping buddy, and her sister, Jill − their praise for my early efforts encouraged me to keep trying. I’d like to thank the team at Allison & Busby and my wonderful agent, Teresa Chris, for her skill, guidance and her extraordinary patience.
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