Part 230 (1/2)

”Better make time.” Her voice changed, roughened. ”I've been thinking

that I should drop that detective in the U.S. a note. You remember

him, don't you, dearie? Kesseiring was his name. Imagine me

remembering his name all these years.” She smiled to herself Everyone

thought she was stupid. They wouldn't think it for long.

He hesitated too long, and cursed himself. ”There's nothing you can

tell him.”

”No? Well, we'll have to see, won't we? I thought I might write him a

letter. They might reopen the case if they had a couple of names to go

by. Your name, for instance, and-”

”You stir this up, it's going to come back on you.” His voice was still

calm, but he was sweating. ”You were every bit as involved as I.”

”Oh no. I wasn't there, was I? I never laid a finger on that boy.”

What the h.e.l.l had the boy been named? Donald or Dennis, she thought. It

hardly mattered. ”No, I didn't lay a hand on him. But you did. It's

murder. Even after all these years, it's murder.”

”They've never proven anything. They never will.”

”With a little help they might. Want to chance it, dear?”

No, he didn't. She would know that he couldn't chance it. He was

exactly where he wanted to be, and intended to stay there. Whatever it

took. ”How much?”

She smiled. ”I think a million pounds would do it.”

”You're out of your mind.”

”It was my plan,” she screeched into the phone. ”It was my idea and I

never got a frigging penny. It's time to settle accounts, dearie.

You're rich man. You can spare it.”