“He did that once before,” said Rita. “They all of a sudden weren’t around any more. I wonder what became of them.”
“Do you suppose their bodies could be buried in the garden?” asked Laurel politely.
Rita gave her a look as flat as her voice had been. “I think they stopped being useful to him,” she said. She lowered her eyes to the glass figurine on the table beside her chair—a small turquoise nude dancing forever on one toe. “A place for everything and everything in its place,” she said, standing up. “I’m going,” she announced abruptly. “I’ll have some more whisky and a bath. I don’t need the bath. Nice to have met you.”
The tennis racket dangling from her hand, she moved lithely across the room on her beautiful legs.
The door chimes sounded. Rita continued on her way. Laurel heard th
