CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Rafferty wondered how long Shore had been listening outside the door. Not that it really mattered, because, judging from the furious look he directed at his wife, he'd certainly heard enough. Hilary's shocked face told him that she realised it, too. Her face had drained of colour. She stared at her husband, as if mesmerised, like a rabbit caught in a car's headlights, incapable of doing anything except shake her head in useless denial.
'I don't know what game you think you're playing,' he told her, 'but I'm going to put a stop to it. I knew you were jealous of Barbara, but I didn't think even you would make up such lies about her now she's dead.' He turned to Henry. 'Barbara and I were not having an affair. God knows how much I wanted her, but she turned me down flat. So
