’ ‘Like your father,’ Gerald put in deliberately. He thought rationally; that is to say, he thought clearly, as a child thinks clearly. But for the next few days he avoided Cheveney like the plague. ‘I suppose you think I can’t manage it myself,’ had complained Captain Roding sarcastically. When she was done she checked the patio door and carried his body into the garage, burying his remains next to the ten year old girl he had raped and killed last autumn, whose bones were starting to show in small areas where the maggots had feasted. Awkwardly, he closed his eyes and fumbled for a kiss.
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