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Back The Widow
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

Jo sputtered on the mouthful of coffee, sending an arc of fine spray across the table. ‘Nor yours? Give me a break; you forget I saw you push your husband under a train!’

Allison had lifted her mug to her lips. At this, it fell from her hands, clattering onto the table and sending a wave of coffee washing over the wood.

‘That’s a hell of a lot worse than a few crumbs,’ Jo said, moving out of the way of the coffee dripping from the edge of the table. ‘You don’t care so much now, of course; even with a million, you won’t be able to afford to buy this house.’

Allison went into the kitchen. She returned with a towel and spread it across the mess of liquid, swiping it carelessly and dropping the towel onto the floor. The mug she’d dropped lay on its side, intact. She picked it up and refilled it before sitting and looking at Jo with a frown. ‘What are you talking about?’

Jo waved a hand around the room. ‘This. A million won’t get you this house.’

‘Of course not, I’m not stupid. That wasn’t what I was asking you. What did you mean when you said you saw me pushing Peter under the train?’

Jo shrugged. ‘Sounds self-explanatory to me.’

Allison got to her feet and walked to the window. She stared into the garden, wishing the sun was shining, that she could sit outside and let it warm her face. But it was raining. A heavy downpour, rain slanting to hit the window and send drops chasing one another down the pane. Almost hypnotic.

She waited till she was calm, till she could find the words before she turned. ‘You have it wrong, Jo. I didn’t kill Peter.’

72

Jo laughed uncertainly. It was a bit late for Allison to be pleading innocence, wasn’t it? ‘I saw you, remember. That’s why you’re willing to pay me a million quid.’

‘No.’ Allison shook her head. Returning to the table, she took her seat. ‘You didn’t see me do any such thing.’

Jo had spent so many years stalking this woman, she’d thought there were no surprises, nothing she didn’t know. It seemed she was wrong. She thought back to that day on the platform. She had seen Allison near Peter, then she’d heard a scream, the ensuing kerfuffle hiding everything from sight for a few seconds. The next thing she remembered seeing, as clearly as she was seeing her now, was Allison hurrying away, her face pale. Jo had put one and one together and come up with a believable two. ‘You were on the platform.’

‘Yes.’

‘You’d told Peter to make sure he left the office on time, knew when he’d be taking a train.’

‘Yes.’