BooksBarbecue
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

With a sigh, she tipped the contents of the drawer into a bag, sweeping the books in on top, checking into the corners, making sure every trace was gone. Leaving the bags of clothes in the spare room, she took this final one down and dropped it on the kitchen floor. Later she’d take it out and put it in the refuse bin in the side passageway.

It was late afternoon. She’d had nothing to eat, had eaten little the day before. There were numerous restaurants in the area willing to deliver. It took a few minutes to find the menus for a couple of them, less time to decide. Italian would hit the spot.

The order placed with a promise it would be delivered within half an hour, Allison opened the fridge and pulled out a bottle of Chardonnay. Unable to face the décor in the dining room, she took the bottle and a glass through to the living room and sat.

The first mouthful of wine slipped down nicely. She put the glass down and picked up the remote. There were a couple of movies she wanted to watch.

She was still trying to choose when she heard the doorbell, looking at her watch in surprise. Only fifteen minutes since she’d rung; the restaurant was being surprisingly efficient. Grabbing her purse, she went to answer. Her expectant smile faded quickly as she pulled the door open.

It wasn’t a uniformed delivery person on her doorstep.

35

Allison felt her expression freeze in lines of disbelief. If she had to make a list of all the people she didn’t want to see that evening, Jo would have been near the top. Unusually lost for words, she opened and shut her mouth like a gormless goldfish.

‘I had to come when I heard the news.’

Disbelief was followed by confusion. What was she talking about? It couldn’t have been about Peter… could it? Jo hadn’t been one of the people she’d contacted earlier. Allison was almost sure. She lifted a hand to her face, pressing fingers to her eyes.

‘I can’t begin to know how you must feel.’ Jo stepped close enough to reach out and rest a hand on Allison’s arm.

She wanted to brush away her hand, look Jo straight in the eye and tell her to fuck off, that she neither wanted nor needed her concern. Strangely fake concern. Or was the woman simply incapable of creasing her stiff face into the correct position to imply sympathy?

‘May I come in?’