She guessed Jack was having trouble finding the right piece of carving. There was only one idea in his head now—to batter and bruise and crush this weakling, then cast him at the feet of his love-lorn wife. You are a detective?" "Yes. She responded as he slipped his hands under her sweater. “Dinner is served, ma’am,” he announced to Mrs. “Manning,” she said, and contemplated a figure of inaggressive persistence. Her mind jumped with questions as fear raced through her and hardened into a bid for retaliation. Abruptly the sterner look vanished and she twinkled.
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