Chapter Seven
The Black Forest Gateau
Loyalty is easily forgotten.
It was Lesley who first saw the fire; she was standing on the patio with a perfect view of the community hall. She had just plopped ice into her gin and was toying with the idea of slicing a lemon when she looked up to see a stream of smoke billowing from a window.
She sipped. “Agnus . . .”
Agnus, planted by the agar with Deirdre massaging a geranium oil blend into her skin, did not move.
“This meeting of yours,” said Lesley, “what time was it?”
Deirdre circled Agnus’s temples . . .
“Arrrh,” muttered Agnus.
“Is it still in the community hall?” said Lesley. She looked at her glass, then added more gin.
Agnus looked up. “Yes, why?”
“Come and see this.”
Deirdre moved down to Agnus’s jawline.
“Just tell me,” mutter
