Then she brought it around in a hard, smooth swing. Lester turned his head at the last moment, just in time to catch the gun’s steel-edged walnut stock between his eyes. There was a nasty crunch as the gunstock smashed a hole into Lester’s skull and turned his forebrain to jelly. It sounded as if someone had stepped very hard on a full box of popcorn. Lester Pratt was dead before he hit the floor. Sheila Brigham looked at him and began to scream.
