‘What was she doing here?’ she asked suddenly. ‘Mary Blakiston?’ ‘When?’ ‘The Monday before she died. She was here.’ ‘No, she wasn’t.’ Johnny laid down his knife and fork. He had eaten quickly and wiped the plate clean. ‘Don’t lie to me, Johnny. I saw her coming out of the shop.’ ‘Oh! The shop!’ Johnny smiled uncomfortably. ‘I thought you meant I’d had her up here in the flat. That would have been a right old thing, wouldn’t it.’ He paused, hoping his wife would change the subject but as she showed no sign of doing so, he went on, choosing his words carefully. ‘Yes . . . she did look in the
...more
Suspicious?
