By Robert Goddard

On a vivid autumn afternoon in Truro, the Napier kin celebrates one couple’s golden marriage ceremony anniversary and another’s marriage. yet for one member of the extended family, the day turns darkish. Chris Napier, prodigal son, unexpectedly spots the ragged specter of a former buddy, Nicky Lanyon—a guy whose family was once ruined via an identical coincidence with which the Napiers have been blessed. And the subsequent morning, Chris is horrified to discover Nicky useless, striking from a tree the place the men as soon as played….

For Chris, the suicide opens a floodgate of doubt and suspicion. How did his family’s wealth slip out of the arms of a great-uncle, brutally murdered sooner than he might switch his will? have been the boys convicted of the crime really accountable? And who's the mysterious, seductive lady who claims to understand the Napiers’ darkest secrets and techniques? because the crimes of 2 households are uncovered, a sequence of violent acts shadows him and unexpectedly Chris is familiar with he’s in uncharted waters…until a killer drops one final disguise—for the last word act of revenge.

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Had a job in the public library in Clacton for a long time. Gave it up so as he could nurse his mother. Since she died .. Well, when I went up for the funeral, I saw the change in him. Turned in on himself. Living more and more in the past. " "No. He came here last week, see. And how he was .. made me fear the worst. When we heard ... I weren't so very surprised. You could tell he weren't right. Sat where you're sat now, he was. He'd been on the road a while, I reckon. Clothes all lampered. And he looked so tired.

And now ... " "You know as well as I do, Don, that I've had to stand on my own two feet since leaving Plymouth. " "I'm not sure. " Don raised his hands in a gesture of pacification, smoke curling up from the cigarette gripped between his two most nicotine-stained fingers. "OK, OK. I'm sorry. It's just that from where I'm standing you haven't had things so bad. " "Since you ask, yes. " "How did I guess? You must have done well out of that. " "There aren't any royalties to speak of. " "Keeps goats.

There's really no room for doubt that Uncle Joshua did everything he could to help and encourage Michael. He came to look on him, I suppose, as the closest to a son he was ever likely to get. Which only gave the rumour-mongers more to chew on, and my grandparents more to resent. The grocery business was doing better and better, but it didn't run to an expensive private education for my father. His university was the shop in River Street, his destined profession not auctioneering but the world of bacon, bread and flour; of matches, mustard and soap; of thirteen trading hours per day, six days per week.

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