McClintock sent his yacht over for us this morning. In truth, Sheila never saw Lucy murder anyone at all, she only saw the blood. He watched her, savoring her curious attention. Sheila was finishing her laughter as Lucy brought an elbow down on the back of her head, expertly snapping the vertebra that connected Sheila’s head to her shoulders. “It was my sister Anna. She visited the corner that had been her own little garden—her forget-me-nots and candytuft had long since been elbowed into insignificance by weeds; she visited the raspberry-canes that had sheltered that first love affair with the little boy in velvet, and the greenhouse where she had been wont to read her secret letters. ” Annabel shrugged her shoulders.
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