Her fingers found the lump she sought and, with a little effort, she dragged out the black-wrapped foil. She brought her hands up to her head and ripped out two long chunks of her hair, pulling out shreds of scalp. ‘I am not a murderer. Gregory B. ’ The snaking suspicion rolled through his mind again. Her head had been shaved, and around it was swathed a piece of rag, in which a few straws were stuck. They had much to talk about, or rather Miss Prudence had. E.
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