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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

Being a monster, sadly, didn’t take away the fear. In fact, it made it worse to know there really were monsters living among us, to know they looked like everyone else, that you simply couldn’t tell… until they pounced.

She opened her eyes. The living room was in semi-darkness, lit only by the street lights that made strange shadows on the pale walls. Perhaps she should simply stay there, shut her eyes, try to sleep again. She was still so tired. Tomorrow would be time enough to face everything. She’d make an appointment with the solicitor, see if she could come to some arrangement with the RSPCA about money that would allow her to keep the house. Four million. She could do so much with that amount of money.

But tomorrow was a long way away. She’d still not finished with today. Getting to her feet, she crossed to Jo.

Allison had always been curious about her hair and, reaching down, she rubbed a strand between her fingers. Real hair. She pulled slightly, nodding when she saw movement over Jo’s scalp. Real hair, but it was a wig. She stood looking down at her. Maybe it would be better to know the answers. Safer, perhaps.

‘Wake up,’ she said, shaking Jo’s arm gently, a little more strenuously when there was no answer. ‘Come on, you can’t sleep there all night.’

‘What?’ Jo’s eyes opened and stared directly into Allison’s. ‘You didn’t poison me?’

‘Poison you?’ Allison reared back as if she’d been punched. ‘Why would you say such a thing? Bloody hell, why would you even think such a thing?’

‘Two million seemed a good motive to me.’ Jo stretched. ‘And I did go out like a light when I drank the tea you made me.’

‘I think you’ll find it was a surfeit of whisky that knocked you out. How many did you have? It’s a lot stronger than that cheap beer you normally drink.’ Allison sat on the sofa beside her. ‘You really thought I was going to kill you?’

‘Let’s say it crossed my mind.’

‘And you thought I’d pushed Peter under the train.’

‘Yes.’

There was only one reason someone would believe such a thing of Allison, only one reason they’d go on thinking it. She’d asked Jo earlier; she asked her again. This time, she’d wait for an answer. ‘You know what I did, don’t you?’

‘Yes, I do.’

80

Jo was so sure Allison had poisoned her… or had that been wishful thinking? Was she so tired of it all that death was preferable and she too damn cowardly to do the job herself? Had Allison really no idea? There was puzzlement in her eyes, in her furrowed forehead. Or maybe she was a good actress.