“Barnaby died in the night. I’m on my way to see Eleanor. And then I’ll have to stop for some mourning clothes.” He stared at her, unwilling to understand what he had heard. “Does that mean—does that mean—Cousins Manufacturing—” “Yes, it’ll come to me. But I can’t think of business now—there’s so much to do.” She leaned down and kissed him on his cheek. “Good day, Inspector. I’ll see you in the evening.” He remained frozen in place for a long time, then he dropped his head into his hands. She had what she’d always wanted—and he had never felt smaller or more lonely.
What a shit.
