6. Capes went first, finding footholds and, where the drops in the strataedges came like long, awkward steps, placing Ann Veronica’s feet. It could only mean one thing—that her foster daughter was both a whore and a murderer! When Sheila confronted her about it, it was five in the morning. He had hurt her. “Want to see the computer?” He asked eagerly. Had he been trying to stop the grim descent, and had he dimly perceived that perhaps a fine deed would serve as the initial barrier? A drunken idea—a pearl in the midst of a rubbish heap.
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