Killed is too kind a word. ‘You do not use your head, Emile,’ she said flatly. She quickly strangled him with the piano wire as he looked at her, his lips open as if to scream, but his larynx had been intentionally sliced. They will guess that I am English. Shall we say at half-past seven?” She rose from her chair. The sun was setting in spectacular multicolored streams beyond Whitefield Park.
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