The farmer was a widow who was slightly famous around town for his prize cows and slightly more famous for his good looks. ” When he brought home papers from Florence verifying that she had been declared dead having committed suicide the fateful day at the manor, she could barely believe Gianfrancesco’s signature at the bottom of the page. ” He looked at her with white, set face. “Indeed,” she said, “I would not. Her eyelids fluttered with recognition, and she cried out softly. ” Chapter XXV THE STEEL EDGE OF THE TRUTH The manservant, with his plain black clothes and black tie, had entered the room with a deferential little gesture. The investigators should have thought to check inside the garbage can. “It’s either now or never,” she said to herself. His hot juices coursed into her in quick bursts.
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