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Back The Widow Save as PDF
Chapters (92)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. PART I
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. PART II
  15. 11
  16. 12
  17. 13
  18. 14
  19. 15
  20. 16
  21. 17
  22. 18
  23. 19
  24. 20
  25. 21
  26. 22
  27. 23
  28. 24
  29. 25
  30. 26
  31. 27
  32. 28
  33. 29
  34. 30
  35. 31
  36. 32
  37. 33
  38. 34
  39. 35
  40. 36
  41. 37
  42. 38
  43. 39
  44. 40
  45. 41
  46. 42
  47. 43
  48. 44
  49. 45
  50. 46
  51. 47
  52. 48
  53. 49
  54. 50
  55. 51
  56. 52
  57. 53
  58. 54
  59. 55
  60. 56
  61. 57
  62. 58
  63. 59
  64. 60
  65. 61
  66. 62
  67. 63
  68. 64
  69. 65
  70. 66
  71. 67
  72. 68
  73. 69
  74. 70
  75. 71
  76. 72
  77. 73
  78. 74
  79. 75
  80. 76
  81. 77
  82. 78
  83. 79
  84. 80
  85. 81
  86. 82
  87. 83
  88. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  89. MORE FROM VALERIE KEOGH
  90. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  91. The Murder List
  92. About Boldwood Books

When the front door opened several minutes later, she saw the holdall the woman held and nodded, satisfied. Her second scenario had been correct. Someone sent by Allison to fetch some belongings.

Jo hesitated only seconds before picking up her two bags. Tying a knot in the top of each, she shoved them under the leafy boughs of a nearby bush and took off after the unknown woman.

59

It was easy for Jo to follow the woman with the holdall. She didn’t appear to be in any hurry. Jo stayed a few feet behind, sufficient distance to allow time to turn away should the woman glance around. Portia. It was as good a name to call her as any until Jo was proved wrong.

Luck stayed with her. The holdall didn’t appear to be heavy, so they continued on foot. Jo would have quite liked to have jumped into a taxi and utter the immortal words follow that cab, but she’d a strange idea a London taxi driver would look askance at such a crazy demand, plus she didn’t want to waste her money on what could be a protracted chase through the city.

After a short walk, Portia stopped at a café. Unwilling to risk being seen or paying what would be an extortionate amount of money for a coffee that was sure to be half froth, Jo stood on the other side of the street, trying to look inconspicuous.

She wasn’t kept waiting long and soon they were off again.

Only to the nearest Underground station. It wasn’t too busy and easy to keep Portia in view. Keeping a few people between them, she stood fairly close to her on the platform, needing to get into the same carriage.

Jo looked at the few commuters who stood near to the edge, impatient to catch sight of their train and thought of Peter. Had he known? Maybe felt the push, had time to look around to see his nemesis as she walked away. It had been one of the questions she’d wanted to ask Allison. Would she have lied or told the truth? Jo liked to think she knew her well enough to be able to tell the difference.

It wasn’t difficult to follow Portia, but it was tiring to be constantly on alert and Jo was relieved when her journey came to an end outside a very elegant house in Kensington.

She was on the other side of the street, slowing to watch as Portia climbed the steps to the front door. Jo held her breath, hoping it wasn’t a visit, that this was where the woman lived, where, if she was right, Allison was hiding away.

She felt like punching the air in triumph when Portia reached into her handbag, fumbled inside for a few seconds then pulled out what looked like a ridiculously large bunch of keys.

Home, then. Not a visit.