“Morning,” said Merryweather, as I opened the coffin lid to his leering face.
“I must be dreaming.”
“You wish.”
“You sound cheery, it must be a good morning.”
“Not today it"s not.”
“I should"ve kept my mouth shut.”
“You should, I smell death.”
“Why, haven"t you washed?”
“Oh, tee-hee. You are on a roll. Is there anyone you haven"t either offended, murdered, or made love to?”
“There"s you.”
“You"ve attempted two of them and you won"t be getting a chance at the third.”
“Any sign of Grella?” I said, ignoring him.
“No. It looks like he"s migrated.”
“Violante?”
“No. Love"s done for her.”
I shook my head and climbed out of bed. The curtains were already drawn back and the window open. That was a touch disconcerting as I wondered how long Merryweather had been in the room. I said no
