The Widow: the BRAND NEW page-turning, unputdownable psychological thriller from Valerie Keogh for 2022 by Valerie Keogh

Author:Valerie Keogh [Keogh, Valerie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Boldwood Books

44

It was another hour before Allison’s mobile rang again. This time, she’d learnt her lesson and checked carefully before answering, relieved to see the solicitor’s name flash up on the screen.

‘Benjamin, thank you for returning my call.’

‘Mrs Fellowes… Allison, I was shocked to hear the dreadful news. My apologies for not being available immediately, I was stuck in a meeting that went on far longer than I’d anticipated. Please accept my profoundest commiserations on your loss. I’ve known Peter for several years; I considered him as much a friend as a client.’

‘I’m struggling to process it all. The suddenness of it. We were celebrating three months together. It’s simply not fair to lose him.’ A gulp, indrawn breath, obvious attempt to regain control. ‘Sorry, it’s so hard…’

‘Of course, I can’t begin to comprehend your loss, Allison, but rest assured, I’ll be here for you. Whatever you need.’

It was what she’d expected to hear, what she’d be paying a hefty price to achieve. ‘I’d better fill you in on the details. I’m not sure I can do so over the phone; would it be possible for you to call round?’

‘Of course. I’ll get my secretary to cancel my early-afternoon appointments and call straight around now if that suits you.’

Now? She looked down at her black jeans and maroon T-shirt. ‘That’s so kind, thank you. How soon will you get here? I’ll have coffee waiting.’

‘Please, don’t go to any trouble. I’ll be about twenty minutes.’

Plenty of time to get prepared. ‘So kind. Twenty minutes, then.’ She hung up, finished her coffee, then dashed upstairs to swap her casual clothes for something more formal. Black wide-legged trousers, a black pussy-bow shirt she’d bought and never worn. With her hair pulled back into a low ponytail and no make-up, she looked suitably funereal.

She shut the curtains on all the windows, covered the mirror in the living room with a dark scarf, and stopped the hall table clock. Over the top, without a doubt, but these were details the rather pedantic, conservative Benjamin would notice, and consider appropriate.

When the doorbell chimed, almost thirty minutes later, Allison took a deep breath and released it slowly. With her shoulders slumped and the corners of her mouth turned down, she fixed her thoughts on the genuinely sad picture of Peter’s crushed body rather than the sunny future his death was going to allow her. As ready as she could be, she turned the handle and pulled open the door.

Benjamin Brown – by name and description – was a small, round man with thinning hair, a sallow complexion and bad teeth. His habit of tilting his head to one side at the end of every statement or question made him creepily sparrow-like.

‘My dear,’ he said, stepping into the hall, both hands extended. Taking hers, he held her at arm’s length for so long that Allison wondered if she’d failed dismally in her portrayal of a grieving widow. ‘My dear, you look wretched.’

Since this was exactly the look she was aiming for, she gave a mental air-punch before making her lower lip quiver like a curious rabbit.

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