by Paul Charles
That was it, off she went into the night with her unnamed friend and off Mary and I went to our Wimbledon Village house in Marryat Road, very close to where George Carman QC lived until he died. Thanks to Mary’s family money and what I’d made from investments during the Thatcher years, we’d been able to give up our work several years ago and were enjoying a very comfortable life.
And that is about it – really this time; I didn’t tell Mary just how big a shock it had been for me to come face to face with Jean Simpson. You see, I’d never admitted to Mary that I really had suspected that she had murdered Jean, and dumped her body in the foundation of the Kopace Superstore.
But you really wouldn’t want to admit that to the woman you love, you know, that you think she’s a murderer now, would you?
The end….
COPYRIGHT
This edition first published 2016 by Fahrenheit Press
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Copyright © Paul Charles 2016
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