Chapters (81)
- Cover
- Praise for Tess Stimson
- Dedication
- part one
- chapter 01
- chapter 02
- chapter 03
- chapter 04
- chapter 05
- chapter 06
- chapter 07
- chapter 08
- chapter 09
- chapter 10
- chapter 11
- chapter 12
- chapter 13
- chapter 14
- chapter 15
- chapter 16
- chapter 17
- chapter 18
- chapter 19
- chapter 20
- chapter 21
- chapter 22
- chapter 23
- chapter 24
- chapter 25
- chapter 26
- chapter 27
- chapter 28
- chapter 29
- chapter 30
- chapter 31
- chapter 32
- chapter 33
- chapter 34
- chapter 35
- chapter 36
- part two
- chapter 37
- chapter 38
- chapter 39
- chapter 40
- chapter 41
- chapter 42
- chapter 43
- chapter 44
- chapter 45
- chapter 46
- chapter 47
- chapter 48
- chapter 49
- part three
- chapter 50
- chapter 51
- chapter 52
- chapter 53
- chapter 54
- chapter 55
- chapter 56
- chapter 57
- chapter 58
- chapter 59
- chapter 60
- chapter 61
- chapter 62
- chapter 63
- chapter 64
- chapter 65
- chapter 66
- chapter 67
- chapter 68
- part four
- chapter 69
- ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
- Keep Reading …
- About the Author
- By the same author:
- About the Publisher
Yes, I think she needs a lawyer! I think there’s a good chance my wife—
That she what, Tom? Murdered a man in cold blood?
‘Of course not,’ I say. ‘I’m just covering the bases, you know.’
‘She’s very welcome to come down to the station with legal representation,’ DCI Hollander says. ‘But we’re not interviewing your wife under caution, Mr Downton. We only want to ask her a few questions. Shouldn’t take long.’
My wife saves lives, she doesn’t take them. She may not be a people person, but she’s not a stone cold killer either.
It wouldn’t be the first time.
No. That was different.
Something Millie said earlier, when she was talking about the desperate fraud victims, the pensioners scammed by Copper Beech, plays on a loop in my head. Do you seriously think one of them went round to his house, picked up a kitchen knife, stabbed him through the heart, got rid of the body and cleaned up the crime scene without anyone being any the wiser?
It was so oddly specific.
I can imagine Millie doing exactly that.
Except she’s smart enough to know you can never clean up a crime scene these days, not properly. If she wanted to murder Felix, she wouldn’t do it in a way that’d leave blood spatter, or DNA evidence on the murder weapon. She’d think of a way to get rid of him that’d ensure no trace of him was ever found—
Stop. Millie didn’t murder Felix.
But the pieces are falling into place whether I want them to or not.
That Sunday I came back from the museum with Peter and found her asleep in bed at five in the afternoon, her hair still damp from the shower.
Her slip of the tongue a few days later when I suggested Stacey might have gone back to her husband: ‘She can’t have—’
Why couldn’t Stacey have gone back to Felix?
Millie, what did you do?
I know what my wife is capable of. And she’s been in thrall to Stacey Porter ever since she met the woman. Felix warned me: Stacey’s like a Venus flytrap … She lures you in, and by the time you realise what’s happening, it’s too late.
Did Stacey persuade my wife to help her get rid of her ‘abusive’ husband? Or did Millie buy into Stacey’s carefully crafted portrayal of herself as the victim of Felix’s domestic violence and simply take the law into her own hands?
It doesn’t matter. I don’t care what she’s done. Millie will always have my unquestioning and unwavering support. No qualifiers, no buts.
Both detectives look up at the sound of footsteps in the hall.
‘You wanted to talk to me about Felix Porter,’ Millie says as she enters the room.