With a rustle of her full lilac petticoats, Miss Froxfield turned back to Alderley. When she was done she checked the patio door and carried his body into the garage, burying his remains next to the ten year old girl he had raped and killed last autumn, whose bones were starting to show in small areas where the maggots had feasted. “My sister,” she murmured, “is so independent. “They ought to have been lopped in the spring. “When you loosen the tangle in one place you tie a knot in another. Your pets are gone. Words of encouragement and sympathy were addressed to Jack, who, as he looked around, beheld many a friendly glance fixed upon him.
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